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Having failed to post on Wednesday since I was in Kumana, I wondered about talking today about my roof garden, but thought it best to leave that for Wednesday and reserve Saturday for the ponds in my gardens. And having dwelt on those in the balcony for two weeks, and the lotuses therein, I will move down to the garden today, and the different ponds there and also the seats I put in place so I can gaze on them and the fish and the flowers there every morning.
I have four such special seats. The first or rather the first two are granite ones, which I call my designer seats, put in when the garden was first walled off from other sections of Lakmahal, which went to my sister and brother. It is against the wall of the house, and had no water features next to it at first, but soon enough I put in on its right a bathtub that Nirmali Hettiarachchi gave me, and then on its left a tank on a stand that Lohan gave me, which he had had at the cottage. It had initially had a catfish in it, but that was transferred to a larger pond, and then it had all sorts of different fish, angels at one stage and now carp and catfish, transferred from that large pond when a pair of white fish there had little ones.
The second seat is a swing, which my father had placed in the garden many years ago, which Kavi had so much enjoyed in his childhood – as my father, with his attachment too to new life, had enjoyed watching him.
The swing had fallen apart over the years, but a couple of years back, as a present to the house for its 84th birthday, I moved the supports to the south-west corner and attached a new seat so that it looks forward to the doorway into the garden, and over the lotus pond on its right and the waterfall pond a bit behind it on the left.
And then there is a little granite seat next to the two ponds in the south-west corner. After I redid this area in a little time that became available in 2020 in the midst of covid restrictions, I had removed the swing. But since the old dead temple flower tree had to be propped up with a couple of support, I had wondered whether I could sling a seat between them. But that would have been too much for the branches they propped up, so instead I surrounded them with beds of anthuriums, pink with dashes of red. And I reinforced the tree still more with a concrete base round which there is a pond, and above it a bed in which I tried roses, though when they failed I had to be content with ferns.
I start with pictures taken from the first designer seats, the pink bathtub that Nirmali gave me with first just anthuriums above it and then quite recently lotuses. Then there are the fish now in the upright tank to the left of the seat, carp and catfish, and then, taken from the other seat, the fish now in the pink tub, angels and just one gourami. The last picture is of me in the first of the designer seats, early in the morning.
I had thought to move, after the introduction to this series with the lotuses that inspired it, to a historical perspective on my ponds, and the fish and the flowers that have developed therein. But this week too I will dwell on lotuses, for the last week too has been fantastic, with the larger pond too producing two blossoms in rapid succession.
I mentioned that larger pond last week, but did not go into detail. It is on the other side of the balcony, built against the wall over which the roof extends, so that it covers a bit of the pond. The first picture shows it being constructed, last August, and how snugly it fits under the overhang of the roof.
Then there were fish placed in it, and flowers, though I concentrated in September on the former. But there is a glimpse in the second picture, along with the angels, of the lotus plant I placed there, and soon leaves had begun to proliferate. I show a cluster of them in October, with the angel who had spawned by then, which led 1to a relocation of fish.
And the angel babies then flourished, though the mother sadly died a couple of weeks after this picture. But their father continued to preside over them, and is still there now, feeding in the midst of his brood. But today is not their day, and the pictures will concentrate on the lotuses.
For in November there were leaves rising above the waters, a precursor of buds, and sure enough by January a little bud had emerged. Unfortunately I was away when it flowered, but Janaki sent me a picture and I saw what I had not seen before, a double lotus blossom.
It had faded away by the time I got back, but there was joy in store for me, for another bud had emerged, and blossomed, and then yet another before the end of February. But after that blossomed in early March, there was nothing for a month.
And then over the new year period there was great joy, for two buds sprang up there through the waters, to match the two buds in the smaller pond on the other side. One of them blossomed a couple of days after its counterpart in the smaller pond, and then the other, on the cusp of blossoming two days ago, was in full flood yesterday morning.
I end with the two lotuses in the two ponds. The first picture is of the smaller pond, where the first lotus was still in fine fettle four days after it bloomed, when the other had followed, though the petals of the former were all blown the next morning. In the bigger pond, the double lotus seems to have a shorter life span, for it had begun to lose its bloom when the other had still not quite blossomed. There are also other differences, for the double lotus has just four seeds to a flower, as can be dimly discerned, whereas the other variety has a great many more. I suppose that is why the former is so rare, and I was incredibly lucky to have acquired one by pure chance.
Constructing the seats on the roof garden was a complicated operation, for after the supports were built the cement seat itself was made down below, and had to be carried up the stairs and manoeuvred through the narrow entry points to the stairs up to the balcony. But my expert team did all this carefully, and soon enough the seats and the basins and the beds were all plastered and looked very smart.
The pictures I showed last week were before the seats were placed on the supports, though after the latter had been plastered. I show here a seat being conveyed through the open space between what used to be my sister’s room and the stairway going up, and then it being carefully tied up to be hauled to the slab to be placed on the supports. This was not an easy task to perform, and it had to be done three times over, for the three seats.
Before these I show a seat in place, the same perspective over my water tank to the west, though now a pot of bougainvillea is in place at the corner. And beyond you can see ever taller buildings as you move towards the Galle Road. These are what make my roof garden, high though it is, a haven of simplicity in comparison with what surrounds it. For the second picture, which shows Ranji engaged in some final touches on that same seat, looks southward so that in the distance are the skyscrapers on Bauddhaloka Mawata and beyond. You can see the antenna on what I think is the Buddhist Channel Building, and then an unusual building halfway between the Galle Road and Thunmulla, then the relatively old Pearl Grand Hotel, and on its right a massive new hotel that has come up at the corner, where there used to be an old Elasto advertisement with a pond and flashing lights, which I passed every afternoon when I walked back from the bus stand on what I then still called Buller’s Road.
Funnily, when I was setting papers in the nineties, I adapted for comprehension a passage about a young man visiting his uncle in the old family home which had become surrounded by skyscrapers. Since that prophetic passage, I had sensed this happening to Lakmahal, as lots of condominiums sprang up around us, and most recently a very high building at the corner of Alfred House Road and Alfred House Gardens, where in the old days Ruby de Mel lived. From the roof garden what has happened around us is even more horrendously clear.
After the transportation of the seats, I show a view to the north, on the right, though behind the bougainvillea is the building to the west seen in the first picture. This one shows too my new building at the back, framed by two mango trees, which reinforce my joy in Lakmahal with its green curtains providing relief if not shelter from the rising tide of cement.
I had thought initially to post on the same subject on Wednesdays and Saturdays, as I have done from the days when I reduced posts on this blog to two a week. Those were travel posts then, but last Wednesday I moved to my roof garden, the latest innovation in the determination to surround myself in beautiful things.
But this morning I was spurred by the blossoming of a lotus to have a variation on this theme on Saturdays. I will therefore start on another series, about the various ponds I have created over the years, in the little walled garden at ground level, and then more recently on the little round balcony perched on top of the exercise room which in turn is above the porch that opens onto the walled garden.
It was last year that, delighted at the success of the flowers in the beds I had created when the balcony was built, I decided to introduce a pond on the side, the south, that overlooked the garden, between the little bed in the corner and the seat that abutted another bed westward. When it was ready I introduced some little fish, and then a lotus plant, which soon produced wonderful blossoms.
The little fish, red ones and pink ones, were joined by two angels from the larger pond, of which more anon, when the other two had babies and protected them fiercely from the other fish there and also these two. And they all seemed very jolly together, until suddenly, after having produced three or four wonderful blossoms, the lotus plant started to die away, new buds becoming brown as did the leaves.
In the end it had to be removed, and while waiting to replace it I put in some reeds, which soon congested the place so that one of the angels died, and the other was only just revived by Janaki. But by the time he was put back there I had got another lotus plant, and this soon started to shoot out leaves that grew taller and taller, so I knew a bud would soon emerge.
And one did, at the corner near the wall, and then another, in front of it. But when I was exulting the first one grew brown, and soon it was clear it was dying. Then I feared the worst, a repetition of the earlier blight. But the bud in front continued to develop, until it looked ready yesterday to burst into flower. And since it had done so when I went up this morning, I thought it was appropriate to herald the new year in with this utterly beautiful flower.
Next to it, in the first picture, is another bud that emerged, just before the first one started to decline, on the other side of the pond, also in the front. That too seems healthy, though as the second picture shows the first one also seemed healthy when the second was emerging. And then it is seen in decline in the third picture, when the third bud had also shown itself in the opposite corner.
The next picture shows the two surviving buds last evening, with the flowering of the one this morning, taken from the roof garden.
Having over the last several months looked, on this blog, at my travels, I thought I should show something of adventures at home, and the new venture I embarked on in the last few months of 2022.
This was a roof garden, built on top of the slab which covered the little stairway to the balcony which overlooks my little enclosed garden. It was last August, in between my trips to Rajasthan and Kerala, so that the workmen started to develop this, little beds on the edges, two big basins in the middle, and also three seats on the sides except for the one over the balcony.
It is not a large space I have there, on top of the staircase next to my upper balcony, and Ranji the expert of loads that can be borne suggested that the area that hangs over the central space above the stairwell might not be strong enough for cement blocks. So I ordered bricks, and only put a couple on the sides for about half the four edges. My staff is worried that that is not enough, and I will slip and fall over the edge, so I have promised not to go up there on my own.
But I too had worried about that, and I believe that the protection I have devised will be enough. Convinced that I am old and very frail they wanted high walls at the sides, but I thought beds for flowers would suffice, since no one would then fall unless they deliberately trod on those beds. But since I did not want to have beds in a continuous line, I broke them up with spaces where I placed pots, which would be as effective I thought in stopping people falling over.
And there was also protection against falling off the balcony through the seats which had high backs, placed on three sides, though not the side over the balcony. There were also extensions to them in sections where there were no pots or flower beds, as can be seen in a couple of today’s pictures.
For the construction the workmen went up there from the roof of the main part of Lakmahal which extends over the balcony. I would get on the roof myself – though breaking more tiles than the rest of them did together – and direct them, but I did not dare get onto the slab where the garden was being laid out. But I had a good enough view from the roof, and the layout worked well, with deeper basins in the centre of the space, for taller trees than the shallow flower beds would hold.
The first picture shows the garden being laid out, a bed on the top right, a basin in the foreground, and half walls on the right and ahead. The second shows Ranji the senior mason who worked there taking a breather, while the third shows shows the side over the balcony with the roof on which I would stand to see what was going on. Then you see one of the central basins, behind the flower bed over the balcony, with the backs of seats in front and to the right.
The next picture shows the latter seat and also the one next to the roof, with a view through them to the water tank and the solar heating mechanism on the slab above the bathroom beyond. These pictures were after the seats had been plastered while the final picture shows the roof garden as seen from the new building at the back of Lakmahal, before the back of the seat nearest the water tank had not as yet been plastered.
Soon after breakfast at that desert camp near Jaisalmer, Jaishu returned and we drove back to the hotel, where I had a quiet day in my room, reading and working on the internet. But in the evening I was up on the terrace again, for beer and dinner, and then had to make sure Jaishu and the car would be available at 1 am. He suggested he stay up but I wanted to finish my book, an Elizabeth Goudge after half a century, and he assured me that his alarm would work.
But there was no Jaishu at 1 am, and he did not pick up his phone, so I had to wake the helpful assistant manager, who found him asleep in an area where there was no signal. But that was in time for the car had been brought up to the upper courtyard, and he took me to the station and the train was waiting so I got in and settled down.
Unfortunately the window by my seat was filthy and I could not see through it, which was irritating for one of the great joys of Indian trains is seeing the country flowing past, and also the activity on station platforms. But apart from that the journey was very pleasant, and for most of it I could stretch out on my seat for the compartment did not have many passengers until the end. I ate a packet of pistachios and read and slept, with a meal and snacks and lots of tea from the vendors who charge through the train calling their wares.
It was an eighteen hour journey, and by the time I got a prepaid auto to Christine’s – for there were no pre-paid taxis at Delhi station – it was near to midnight. I knew she and Himmat were away, but their faithful Bahadur was waiting up for me and let me in, and I had a wonderfully comfortable night, in air-conditioned comfort.
And then I had a quiet day on my own, or rather with the dogs too, for they were delighted to see me. But I suspect the fact that they would not leave me had more to do with the air-conditioning in my room than devotion.
As when Christine was there, I had early coffee on the balcony and then after working on the internet breakfast, before retiring to my room to read. Then, after a short walk outside for shopping, mainly for almonds and pistachios, Bahadur got me lunch, and then I finished Chasing the Monsoon, the bits before Deeg I had omitted, and then the wonderful conclusion at Cherrapunjee, another favourite place of mine.
And at 4 pm Bahadur got me a taxi to get to the airport, and I headed back after another energetic expedition. I had not thought earlier in the year, after the rigours of coronavirus and its aftermath, that I would ever travel intensively again, but Georgia had been fun and this time I had ventured forth on my own, and again enjoyed myself hugely.
The pictures are from the rooftop and then a decoration in my room before the journey back and coffee with the dogs on Christine’s balcony.
I was hungry soon enough after the downpour, and we waded through the lake that had built up to the restaurant, where I found only tea, and no snacks. Jaishu then went off and I had a long wait for coffee, and the not very tasty snacks they produced, a sad contrast to my mind with what I had enjoyed in a more primitive guesthouse seven years earlier.
Then we had the cultural show which was also part of the package. Unfortunately it could not be outside because of the rain, so the large dining room was cleared, so that the performers started at a disadvantage as compared with those who had had a marvellous space to whirl about it in seven years earlier. But this lot also did their best in the limited space they had.
The music and the special drum performances and the dances were nice enough, but I ate as soon as food was produced, and then went off to bed, with the mud worse though the rain had stopped. Next morning, when I got up early, though nothing was ready one of the staff had seen me going in search of it and trotted out and got the kitchens to work. I was able to wait outside the camp then, as light spread over the dunes, and he brought my coffee there so I could watch camels coming in across the sands for their duties. After my coffee I had another walk onto the dunes, and then Rafiq got me another cup of coffee to enjoy on my verandah. And that was enough to satisfy me though breakfast was boring, as dinner the previous night had been.
The contrast with the previous visit is enough to have led me to look out old pictures of my previous visit to the desert. So I start with a picture of sunset on that occasion, and then the fabulous sunrise the following morning. Then I go back to the performance in the night and a dancer in the courtyard. That is followed by the recent performance, whirling and the orchestra and a guest inveigled onto the floor.
Those are followed by my coffee being brought to my seat outside the camp, and then views of the dunes and the camels, including of a train setting out from the grander hotel nearby. The last picture is of a last cup of coffee on the verandah outside my room.
From Lodhruva it was straight on after that to the desert, to what was called the KK Resort, one of several set in a row opposite layers of sand, known as the Sam dunes. Accommodation was in tents with toilets attached behind, in rows on the side, nothing like as attractive as the isolated rooms I had stayed in previously.
The camel ride was scheduled for a bit later, so having checked out the room I had tea, and then was prepared to wait but I was summoned soon afterwards. Once again I clambered onto a camel, and was led slowly into the desert. This was not as thrilling as when I had first done it, and one could not be comfortable, and the sky was cloudy so the colours were not as dramatic as then. But it was still fun to be high up to view the dunes and other camels wandering across them, sometime a few in single file, which was lovely as the sun began to sink.
After we had wandered around for nearly an hour, with the sun still not near setting, the driver took us to a high dune just above the hotel and asked whether I minded walking back, if I wanted to stay on to see the sunset. Though it was certainly not going to be as spectacular as on the last occasion, I did like the changing colours, so I got down and off he went with the camel. But I had just settled down on the sand when drops of rain fell and within a couple of minutes this had turned into torrential rain.
I rushed back to the hotel, but was soaked to the skin by the time I got there, Fortunately Jaishu, who had asked if he could go off to stay with a friend, which I thought would be fine, had not yet left and he came dashing out with an umbrella, which he insisted I take, so that he too was soaked by the time we got back to my room. But fortunately there were two towels and we rinsed off the sand, and the mud, for the courtyard in front of my tent had been flooded, and dried ourselves and waited to be warm again. Fortunately the airconditioning in the room had not worked, nor had the second massive fan they had brought in to supplement the first.
Once again a plethora of pictures, beginning with four on the drive to the camp, a decrepit building in Lodhruva, a tree that somehow flourished in the desert sands, and then sheep and a camel; then, after me on the camel, there are a couple of pictures I took while we moved, after which I got down and the driver went towards the camp and I settled down for the sunset. But after a lovely picture of camels against the setting sun, it began to pour and I rushed back to the camp, to the safety of Jaishu’s umbrella and the tent. But we had to stay there while it continued to pour, resulting in the flood outside which greeted us when finally the rain stopped and I ventured forth for sustenance.
Rajiva Wijesinha 