"What a world!" moaned Pol Martin in the
death row of the Jail, ”everybody is blaming me for killing my wits but nobody is asking me why or how
l happened to do such a thing.”
Behind pol's fate hangs a doleful story - a stark
tragedy indeed!
pol was the son of a jeweller and an Arts graduate
of the University of London. After leaving School he tried to get a suitable
job, but was unsuccessful When in the nineteen thirties the economic depression
knocked at the door of Sri Lanka (then Ceylon) too, not only Government
Departments but also mercantile establishments stopped recruitment of staff,
and Pol's prospect of getting employment appeared to be nil though his father
was anxious that Pol should get a job in line with his qualifications and not
follow in his father's footsteps to become a gold-smith.
Pol was not immediately in need of money as his
parents could have well afforded to feed and clothe him and supply all his
wants. Nevertheless, he wanted to do something to keep himself occupied and the
only way to do so under the drastic retrenchment caused by the world trade
depression was to go from house to house selling the jewellery that his father produced.
His father reluctantly agreed, because he knew that an idle man's brain was the
devil‘s workshop.
On his jewellery selling rounds one day, Pol stepped
into a Walauwa in Gampola. it was rather late in the evening, but nevertheless
the lady of the mansion (Kumarihamy) on hearing that a jeweller was at the
door, came down with her beautiful daughter (Ana) and on seeing the latter. Pol
thought that she was an angel incarnate Pol himself had a handsome figure and
there was no reason why Ana too would not have admired him. The old lady bought
a pair of bangles for her daughter, and when Pol deliberately quoted a low
price for it, she told that it was very reasonable and paid him the money at
once.
“Where are you from and where are you going to put
up for the night?" enquired Kumarihamy from the jeweller.
"I am from Colombo and there is a friend of
mine, whose house is about a mile from here," replied Pol.
"Mom," said the girl, ”if it is about a
mile away, how can he go so far in the dark"
"Yes, yes," said her mother with a
glance at Pol, “you seem to be a well-educated chap speaking good English. You
can stay here as long as you like. My husband, the Rate Mahathmaya is dead, and
you can even occupy his room." Pol was only too glad to avail himself of
her kindness. He had no heart to leave her daughter as he was beginning to fall
for the latter's beauty.
On the following day Pol did not go on his rounds
selling jewellery, but remained in the Walauwa. herself brought him a cup of tea in the
morning, while the servant girl was wondering why the lady did not ask her to
do so. Pol took the Opportunity to fall into conversation with Ana,
who he found was herself an educated girl though not a graduate. She had passed
the Cambridge Senior Examination and could speak flawless English. It was only
natural that soon enough a love affair should spring up between them. So when
Kumarihamy gauged some such happening, she made personal enquiries regarding
the status of Pol and his family background. Then she advised her daughter as follows:--
"Pol, though well-educated is a man of low
birth and a Christian. Please don't insult our high 'paramparawa' (ancestry)
and our religion by marrying a man of that type. i am asking him today to get
out of my house.”
“Please don't do that, Mom. Your ideas are all
based on man-made distinctions. Biologically human beings are all the same. i
have given considerable thought to this matter, and
Pol is the
only man whom I shall marry."
The obstinate daughter had her way in the end and
the couple was quietly married, first in the Anglican Church and thereafter
according to Buddhist rites including the poruwa ceremony, which was of some
consolation to the old lady. Whether the couple could have lived happily ever
after was a matter for conjecture then.
One day Kumarihamy received a letter from a
relative of hers, one Mr. T. james Godamune, G.C.S. Clerk, Grade l, that he was
transferred to Gampola and wished to become a boarder in her Walauwa. The
Walauwa was a vast mansion of the late R. M., and Kumarihamy could not possibly
refuse the request. As days went by, Pol found that he could not pull on with
Banda, the new comer, while Ana was drawing closer and closer to her kinsman,
who was always in the Walauwa in the night while Pol's job was such that he had
to walk about for days like a wandering Jew far away from home. When he found
that his wife’s affair with Banda was going too far, he advised her and even
ordered her to have nothing to do with Banda. Ana the obstinate girl that she
was--instead of listening to her husband, began to bandy words with him and
insult him in the presence of Banda. Pol was now in a daze when he realized
that his idol had but feet
of clay-~his former angel “incarnate had become now a devil incarnate!
One day, when Pol arrived home in the night, he
found his wife missing and on enquiry from his mother-in-law learned that she
had gone to Colombo with Banda for a dance. "What am l to do?" asked
the mother-in-law, “they never listen to me." It was past midnight when ana
and Banda returned home in a hiring car. Then Pol confronted his wife and said,
”How often have I told you not to do things of this nature behind my back
?"
"Shut your bloody mouth, you beggar. You must
understand that you are in my mother's house and can be driven out at any time.
You can’t stop me from doing what I want to do,” replied Ana with a superior
air.
Pol anger knew no bounds. He pulled out a knife
from his shirt pocket, opened the blade and stabbed his wife no less than seven
times. While her "legal lover Banda ran for his dear life, Ana lay dead on
the floor in a pool of blood.
