I sit on a stone step at Kaluthara bodhi, caressing the burn I got from an oil lamp, with my mother and my grandmother on either hand, fluently reciting mantras that I don't understand.
A hundred people around us, dressed in white clothes and wrapped in white sheets. They arrange flowers in simple arrays to find inner peace.
I hear an abrupt roar of metal, coming from the south side. A train passes on the railroad next to us, in it's quick, steady stride.
I cannot see it directly. The temple limits my sight.
But I feel everything shiver against it's might.
A hundred heads turn towards the noise; fifty agitated , fifty amused. They all watch the smoke elevate towards the heavens until it's completely reduced.
Then we turn back from the empty railroad, we resume our rituals as we please,
while the bodhi leaves flutter gallantly against the constant sea breeze.
