PETTI-KADE

‘Petti-Kades’ were generally found in every small neighbourhood in the Sri Lanka I grew up. It was our version of the British Corner-Shop or the Bodega found in most Hispanic/Spanish neighbourhoods in most US Cities. My immediate neighbourhood in Dehiwela was no different. Ours, was located at the corner of Atapattu Pedesa (now Galvihara Mawatha) and Piyarathanarama Road. It was literally within three-minutes’ walk from my home. It was owned and run by a Muslim gentleman.

It was a small shop. Three-sides were wattle and daub and the front was open with a small entrance and a long counter. At night, long wooden slats were placed in a row to close up the front of the shop. These wooden slats were stacked up against the sidewall during business hours. They were uneven slats. But slid into place with surgical precision to protect the establishment, at night. I have seen (many times) these wooden slats being put into place (at night) and being removed (in the morning). It was only then I realised why the wooden slats were numbered, sequentially. If the slats were slid in out of sequence, they did not fit snugly into place ! The shop would open for business almost at the crack of dawn. I have (many a time) stood waiting until the ‘mudalali’ completed his morning routine, to buy excise books, pencils and pens, on my way to the school bus, at 5:45am.

After removing the slats in the front, he lit a long-handled ladle with various incense. Then he took the smoking ladle around the shop and inside it, until the smoke permutated the interior of the shop. I am sure there was some spiritual reason attached. But from a more practical and logical explanation was, it drove away any mosquitoes trapped inside and cleared the musty air trapped, over night. For a while, the shop smelt of a sharp and sweet odour. He then lit some joss-sticks and placed them inside. Thereafter, he sprinkled a mixture of Saffron Power and Water on the front ‘porch’ of the shop, where customers stood.

This was an old (yet effective) disinfectant and discouraged pesky flies. Then, and only then, was he officially open for business. As a small school boy patiently watching this daily ritual, it was both entertaining and educational. It obviously made an impact on me. Almost half a century later, I can recall it, in vivid detail. The wattle & daub walls and its construction too was fascinating. Although I had seen such walls (and houses) and learnt about them in school, it was the ‘Petti Kade’ which gave me the opportunity to observe it, up close and personal. It was a very basic structure and construction. Yet sturdy and served its purpose. There were two frame made of wooden sticks in the form of a lattice. These frames were placed a few inches apart (I guess depended on the desired thickness) and a mixture of mud and clay firmly packed inside and outside the frame. As there was no ‘finishing touches’ applied, one could clearly see the frame and stuffed mud and clay.

The mudalali and his family lived in a house a few meters behind the shop. His small children would often be seen playing in the garden, next to the shop. Today, that area is completely changed and the houses where the shop used to be, are enclosed by high garden walls. Back then, everything was open. At the back of the shop, there was a door which was used by the mudalali and his family to gain access to the shop. I remember seeing a faded curtain with a floral design, adorning the door. There was an ever present bunch of plantains hanging on the outside of the shop, suspended by a coir rope, from a roof rafter. When you wanted to buy the fruits, the mudalali came out, cut a comb. Unlike today, plantains were not sold by its weight. Rather, it was sold by the comb and the number of fruits in a comb. Some customers would break off one or two fruits, consume it then and there and pay for it. No one cheated or stole. Inside the shop, hung the traditional mechanical scales with various weights. This was to weigh dry goods which were sold loose.

Between the counter and the half-wall was a wire-mesh. On the inside of the shop, next to the wire-mesh, was a row of glass bottles filled with various coloured sweets. They were strategically placed at eye-level of small boys & girls. The mudalali did not have a degree in marketing or a MBA. But his merchandising skills were, without doubt, unmatched. Those bottles contained colourful boiled sweets, bulto, delta toffees, jujubes, chewing gum and various savoury (and crunchy) delights. None were too expensive and quite affordable to us, who got pocket money.

The mudalali knew (by name and by sight) almost all his customers and especially his regulars. Some households ran an “account” with him. They settled at the end of the month. All transactions were recorded in his ledger (book). Some customers had their own book which they maintained. Both books always tallied. It was a win-win credit system and no one cheated. He also knew which brand each regular preferred. I remember being sent to the shop to get sugar, by my mother. She preferred the brown variety. When I asked for one pound of sugar, I did not need to specify the colour. He knew it ! The shop did not have electricity. So, all what was sold were dry goods & elephant-house (un-chilled) fizzy drinks in glass bottles. They also sold coconut oil. They also carried limited amount of newspapers, which were neatly folded and stacked on the counter.

Their entire stock was the kind any household would need for daily use, when you ran out of stocks, mid-week. This included different types of raw rice, other grain and gram, milk power (both loose and in packet form), sugar, eggs, various condiments, etc. They also carried selected school supplies such as excise books, pens, pencils, pencil cutters, erasers, rulers, etc. They also carried sewing needles (never sold after 6pm), hair clips, small vanity mirrors, hair dye, etc. Their stock also carried tooth paste, tooth brushes, dental cleaning powder, torches and batteries. During the various religious festivals the shop sold papier-mâché masks, greeting cards and other related novelty items.

The shop also sold cigarettes and cigars. Once, I was waiting for the mudalali to fulfil an order for my mother. There on the floor, sat a man in a sarong with bundles of beige coloured cigars. He was patiently applying some black oil on the cigars and they turned black in colour. Then he tied them into bundles with some string and laid them on the counter. That black oily substance had a strong, foul smell. I remember thinking to myself, who in their right minds would smoke that filthy stuff. I was wrong. Those cigars used to sell like hotcakes. To help his smoking customers, the mudalali had a small coconut oil lamp (with a low wick) inside a wooden cigar box along with strips of discarded cigarette packets to help them light up! Later, he hung a thick coir rope with a smouldering fire at one end. It was slow burning and people lit their cigarettes, cigars and beedi using it. No disposable lighters even in the distant horizon.

There was a stack of old newspapers (cut in half) hanging from a hook inside the shop. Adjacent to that, was a large ball of twine made of coir. Together, they constituted the packing area. When anyone bought loose dry goods, a newspaper from the stack was taken and made into a paper-cone (gotta) and tied up with the coir twine. Shiny brown-paper bags were only sold if one was buying something which was to be given as a gift. No plastic bags back then. We were environmentally friendly, in an old-school sort of way.

If memory serves me correct, the Petti Kade was burgled a few times. We only got to know it, when we went to the shop and found it closed, in the morning. Each time this happened, a crowd gathered and the details of the dastardly act, came into the open. The culprits were always apprehended in record time handed over to the police, after they were beaten up, by people of the neighbourhood. This was our Petti Kade. It was our corner-shop. No one was allowed to mess with it!

As dusk approached, the Petti-Kade was illuminated by the aid of two petro-max lanterns I used to watch with great fascination while the mudalali put kerosene, pumped it to prime the lantern ad lit it. At that time, I though what great fun it was. It looked very easy to do. Little did I realise then, that a few short years later, our household too invested in two or three of the same, when we had regular power-cuts in the evenings. It was not as easy as I thought. And, quite dangerous, unless all precautions were taken.

Once, the mudalali funded a theatrical show (naattiya). A stage was erected next to the Petti-Kade. A shed (maduwa) was erected to be the dressing room. The young men of the area eagerly lent their brawn in the construction and it was indeed a sturdy one. I cannot quite remember if the stars were local talent or not. It was an all-out effort with stage lights, sound and et al. Again I cannot remember the actual storyline of the play. But it did have the much needed ingredients of any local play, featuring a king, a queen, a battle hardened warrior and a love triangle ! And oh yes, many sword fights!

The play ran for several nights and ended at the wee hours of the night. Needless to say, we were all part of the audience, on several nights. Those who purchased tickets, were given chairs and benches to sit and the riff-raff like us, stood, during the entire performance.

The mudalali was always dressed in white-sleeved baniyan and a sarong (not white). He also wore a thick belt with several pockets on the belt. Whether he actually had any money in those pockets, I never found out.

What happened to the Petti-Kade, what happened to the mudalali, what happened to his family and his kids, I do not know. All that remains are the memories and the life lessons I learnt while observing the goings-on at the Petti-Kade.

A Colombo-based IT consultant and social change campaigner, Nalaka occasionally likes to immerse himself in the art of writing in keeping to the traditions of his family of writers. You may contact him at nalakadevendra@gmail.com