Back to nostalgia, back to memories. ‘Sooriya Mara’: the Sinhala (Sri Lankan) name for it. ‘Albizia lebbeck’ is one of its scientific names as per Dr. Google. It doesn’t really matter. It’s the story that unfolded among its affectionate branches, that matters.

It’s a shady tree; and my father built a beautiful tree house on top of it, many, many years ago. Back in Sri Lanka, back in Kelaniya: my home town. Back in the days when we basked in the great outdoors and depended on it for all kinds of joy and sport. My father used loose timber lying idle on our property and new timber specifically purchased for the project, to construct the frame; a solid metal sheet went in to the roof. Strong pieces of wood were used for the ladder. The branches provided a solid foundation. It became our second home.

It was our refuge from the mid-afternoon heat, our getaway from blatant mischief and one of the key places where we discovered the beauty of literature. It was an observatory at night, I still remember so vividly, the number of shooting stars we spotted through the thick tangle of branch and leaf above and around us. We dreamt here too; bears, lions and deadly snakes lurked in the jungle below us. The snakes were not too hard to imagine, as several tropical varieties such as viper, cobra and the harmless rat snake slithered in the grass and soil underneath. I despised them then, I miss them now. Only the rat snake still lingers.

This heavenly pavilion, adventure books and a rampant imagination mingled and co-mingled with gleeful abandon. I still wonder how and why the winds were so deliciously cool, just a few metres above ground. Even the mossies: winged bloodsuckers, and other airborne vermin were swept aside. As evening fell, it became, even slightly chilly.

Then came Christmas, and with it, an army of extended family and friends; from all ages, child, teenager, adult and older. This pleasant invasion, stayed for more than three weeks at our house and my grandparents’, which were in the same garden. Our ranks swelled to just over twenty. So did the numbers on the tree house. But the tree house held on, so did the sturdy ‘Sooriya Mara’. The library in the tree had more books and more members, swapping books became so easy. Reading or simply swinging our legs in the air, while chatting, screaming and laughing, gobbled up the minutes and the hours. ­­­December also brought a Sri Lankan spring those days; the air was decidedly cooler and the skies were painted in unending hues of blue. This was the era before the advent of global warming perhaps; things are much hotter and humid these days during Christmas.

At nights we would scamper to grab the best seats on the branches, candles in hand. The older cousins lit firecrackers and sent off sky rockets, below us. The sky rockets looked majestic as they streaked heavenwards and even romantic, when seen through the gaps in the foliage. We screamed in delight as some of the spent sticks fell back on the tree house. It was a tree of laughter and joy.

Then the laughter stopped, the tree stayed. We grew up. We left home. The house on the tree fell in to disrepair and finally disappeared. I’m sure our parents missed us terribly and didn’t see the need to maintain it. It was too painful for them.

Then, it was back; much better looking; many, many moons later. We heard the same rowdy laughter and noise coming from its leaves. This time it was our own kids; my father lit the flame of adventure yet again, for his grandchildren. But, our numbers were few, our cousins were spread far and wide across the planet, just like us; grandparents, grand uncles and aunts and friends had left us, never to return.

The ‘Sooriya Mara’ and its house still stands resolutely, a hot bed of memories, a beacon for our future where I desperately hope and pray, more memories could be made.

But, as I write in times of Covid, I can still hear the laughter and the chaos from the branches; and a smile and a tear return to my face.

I introduced a tree house in to my first book ‘The Beast’ as a tribute to my parents and that house among the branches.