From my vantage point in this new kuti up in the mountain, I look down upon the valley below. Even though this is the vassa, in Sri Lanka it’s the dry season, and every evening I am the audience to glorious sunsets, each unique and as beautiful as the other. The air is hazy from the fires in the dry paddy fields: farmers burning the hay to prepare their lands for the next round of rains.
Today the sky is illuminated with bright orange, and ornamented with swaths of deep red in the horizon. As I enjoy the slow dance of colour in front of me, a different kind of red and orange beyond the valley catches my eye: a forest fire.
The northern face of the mountain which is home to the Sudugala Forest Monastery is burning. It is not a pretty sight.
There are no people living down there, and it is quite far from the monastery. It’s a protected government reserve, home to trees and animals. Elephants live there.
Almost half of the face of the mountain is already ash. Giant tounges of fire lap up trees around the edge of a growing patch of black and grey and smoke. Was it some villager trying to create a barrier so that the elephants don’t come down to the village, as they sometimes do? Or is someone trying to grab land for his hena?
I find another fire – of rage – burning inside me. I turn away from the window.
