Mal Perahera Lyrics by Sangeeth Wijesuriya

I sat as though a flower procession were coming
I felt the comfort of you walking through my heart
I lay down as though a funeral procession were passing
When you looked away, I sank into sorrow…
That sorrow has no end, and still it doesn’t bother me
I’ll build up my heart again, I’ll keep wishing for you forever
I’ll come to you, always wishing only for you
Ho… ho…..

I saw it as if blue stars had fallen to the ground
In the gather of your eyes I saw all the light
I saw blue light spreading out in a row
When you looked aside, I tied my sorrow to that
Ho… ho….

I saw it as if the moon, the queen, were arriving
Inside my heart I dance the pantheru dance
I saw that the procession had passed me by
I saw that you were no longer beside me
That comfort has no end, there’s still no delay
I’ll hold your heart close, I’ll smile forever
I smile, always wishing only for you
ho… ho…
I saw it as if blue stars had fallen to the ground
In the gather of your eyes I saw all the light
I saw it as if the moon, the queen, were arriving
Within a smile I dance the pantheru dance
Hooo.. oo…..

I lay down as though a funeral procession were passing
When you looked away, I sank into sorrow
I saw that the procession had passed me by
When you looked aside, I tied my sorrow to that
That sorrow has no end, and still it doesn’t bother me
I’ll build up my heart again, I’ll hold your heart close
I’ll come to you, always wishing only for you…
Hoo… ooo

I saw it as if a flower procession were coming…
I felt the comfort of you walking through my heart…
I saw that the procession had passed me by…
When you looked away, I sank into sorrow…
Ho oo….
Na na na neee eee….

A young man is in love, and the whole song lives inside one feeling: the joy of having her near and the ache of watching her drift away. He doesn’t tell us a story so much as let us sit with him through the swing between those two states, hope and hurt, over and over.

The big image that holds the song together is the “mal perahera,” the flower procession. In Sri Lanka a perahera is a grand parade, the kind you see at temple festivals, with elephants, dancers, drummers and offerings, something rare and beautiful that you wait all year for and that passes by in a slow, glittering line. When she is with him, walking through his heart, it feels like that procession arriving: festive, sacred, once in a lifetime. He even reaches for the highest images he knows, blue stars fallen to the earth, the light pooling in her eyes, and the moon coming as a queen, and inside his heart he dances the pantheru netuma, a traditional Sinhala dance of celebration where dancers strike small tambourine-like instruments. That is how full he feels when she looks at him.

Then she looks away, and everything inverts. The same procession that felt like a festival becomes a “geal perahera,” a funeral procession, and he lies down in grief as it passes. The cruelty of the song is in that one small act, her turning her gaze aside, and how completely it changes his world from celebration to mourning. He notices the parade has already gone past him, that she is no longer at his side.

What makes the song tender rather than bitter is what he keeps choosing. He says the sorrow has no end, and in the same breath says it doesn’t trouble him, because he will gather his heart back together and go on wishing only for her. He holds her close in his mind and smiles, even after she has gone. The flower procession may have passed, but he is the one still standing in the lane, waiting for it to come around again.