by Piyumal Wijeratne

Created on: June 21, 2010

She looked back at the village that was burning down to the ground. It was where she was born, where she had spent her childhood, where she had married one special person, where she had given birth to her children. But now all that she can remember of the small village was that it was where her loving and caring husband had died, where her eldest so was tortured and killed, where her parents were killed. Now she cannot see the lovely river, only a dark gush of muddy water washing away the blood. Now she cannot enjoy the life-giving water from the sky; her mind tells her that this water will wash away her life.

 She was bleeding from her forehead and the pain was almost unbearable. But she did not cry for her small John in her arms would feel the pain if she did. She knew that she was doomed; if these foreigners found out that she was such a lovely young women, her fate would be sealed. Even if they did not find her, how could she survive in a village without a single man; all the men would be enslaved now.

 She closed her eyes to stop her eyes from growing tired with the sight of her burning village. The flames had engulfed the small village and would soon die away, leaving behind the ashes of her doom and devastation. The invaders were not so audible now. They must have started to move. How many lives have these barbarians taken away?, how many innocent young men have they tortured?, how many villages have they destroyed? She could not find the answers for these questions.

 Her closed eyes did not relieve her from her agony. The image of her husband was still looming over her confused mind. She could remember how he fought the invaders, how he saved her and her little John, how he was shot with that bamboo arrow, how he fell, how he said “I love you!”. This was enough to make her cry. She cried. She kept crying for a long time as she could remember. Now the fires have subsided and her village was in ashes.

 She stood up and went back to where a small lovely village used to stand. Now it was nothing but ashes. She was still in tears and she started searching her husband’s body. She knew the place where the fight has taken place. She was truly searching for husband in the vain hope that he would be alive. She searched him all over the village, trying to find him under the ashes of the destroyed village. And she saw him.

 His face was totally blackened and his clothes had burned almost completely. She would not 

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