We spend the days lounging around and reading in the living room, feasting on curry and rice, napping and idly wandering around the garden, always marvelling at how Bawa managed to pull in views from every angle in the house. At sunset, we sip cocktails in the garden and watch the sky turn black and the crystalline stars emerge. The cooling air brings the song of crickets, the shadow of fruit bats winging above, and an awareness of just how privileged we are to be here.
On our last morning, after a delicious breakfast of feathery light hoppers and curry on the lanai overlooking Lake Dedduwa – after which Lunuganga, Sinhalese for “salt lake”, is named – and before leaving for the airport, we wander across the west lawn, past a few grazing cows and up to the crest of a hill which Bawa called Cinnamon Hill. Here, under the broad shade of a solitary Munamal, or Spanish Cherry tree, a little concrete rectangle is set into the lawn. This is Bawa’s final resting place – the ultimate statement in minimalism in its nondescript simplicity – though rumour has it that most of his ashes were scattered throughout his beloved garden.
Source: CNA
