Rangana Thala Mawa Lyrics by Chandani Hettiarachchi

Setting up a dancing rhythm, singing songs of two lines
Tell me now, what is this I’m saying? Work it out for me
Listen to the song sung with two-line verses
Tell me now, what is this I’m saying? Work it out for me

Ramba kinda raban kikinda, tell me, what does it mean?
These lines of words said back to front
Ramba kinda raban kikinda, tell me, what does it mean?
Turn these tasty lines the right way round now

Likiri likiri likiri tiya, off she went to the well
Tikiri tikiri tikiri the girl, went to the well, they say
Wali kandaraka wali kandaraka, the gokara is scared, they say
Around the well, around the well, the monitor lizard, they say
Tikiri tikiri tikiri the girl, went to the well, they say
Around the well, around the well, the monitor lizard, they say

Ramba kinda raban kikinda…
Setting up a dancing rhythm…
Ramba kinda raban kikinda…

Blowing and blowing, the lips never touched
At the wayside rest, brimming and brimming, the pots were brought
Even sitting still without a sound, it looked just fine
Break it apart, you fool, you fool, and even I have to laugh
At the wayside rest, brimming and brimming, the pots were brought
Break it apart, you fool, you fool, and even I have to laugh

Ramba kinda raban kikinda…
Listen to the song sung to a dancing rhythm
What I said, now you’ve all sorted it out
I made the song by putting the words back to front
If you do the work back to front like that, it just won’t come right

(Ramba kinda raban kikinda, even turned back to front
these lines of words are easy to figure out
Ramba kinda raban kikinda, the right way round is the good way
don’t forget these tasty lines…//)

This is a playful word-puzzle song, the kind meant to make you laugh and scratch your head at the same time. There is no lover and no heartache here. The singer is playing a game with the listener: she sings lines that have been deliberately jumbled, syllables flipped and swapped, and dares you to untangle them. “Kanapita” means back to front, inside out, and that is the whole trick of the song. The words sound like nonsense until you turn them the right way round, and then a real picture pops out.

The fun is in the puzzle itself. Lines like “ramba kinda raban kikinda” are pure tongue-twister, syllables tumbling over each other the way children chant rhymes for the joy of the sound. The singer keeps asking the same teasing question, “tell me, what is this I’m saying,” knowing perfectly well you are stumped. Sinhala has a long love for this kind of play, scrambled verse and riddle songs that test how quick your ear is, and this is squarely in that tradition.

When you do unscramble the verse, the hidden scene is a little village vignette: a small girl walks down to the well to fetch water, and a monitor lizard (the kabaragoya, the big harmless lizard you still see sunning itself near village wells) is circling around it, while some creature nearby is startled and scared. It is an everyday rural snapshot, the sort of thing the lyric hides inside gibberish just so you feel clever when you find it. The middle verse hides another joke, a clumsy mix-up at an ambalama (the old roadside shelter where travelers rested), pots and lips and laughter all tangled together until you put the words back in order.

The singer closes by giving away her own game with a wink. She admits she built the whole song by saying everything back to front, and adds a small bit of real wisdom in the joke: do your work back to front, the wrong way round, and it will never come out right. So enjoy the muddle, but remember the lines are sweet only when you turn them the proper way. It is light, clever, affectionate fun, a song that rewards a sharp ear and leaves you smiling.