The Red House

A simple household in Dalugama in 1965

2 min read·Mar 30

Step into our neighbourhood, and you’ll see a house that’s anything but ordinary. Our house is a true marvel with its grand entranceway boasting grills and not one, not two, not three, but four doors. But that’s just the beginning of the story. Our house underwent a complete transformation three years ago, with a magnificent arch in the middle, two extra bedrooms, and a built-in kitchen. And just when we thought our house couldn’t get any more unique, my father decided to paint it red earlier this year, making it the only one of its kind in the entire neighbourhood. It’s easy to spot and gives us a sense of pride, but sometimes it’s hard to look at too.

But that’s not all that makes our home stand out. My mother is a master of crafting birds out of cotton wool, and her creations are displayed all around the house in glass cages. These little white birds, chickens, baby chickens, swans, ducks, rabbits, and plants on black cloth are true works of art that leave visitors talking about them for hours. I can’t help but wonder what they’re all saying as they go from room to room, admiring my mother’s handiwork.

And then there’s the statue box in our family hall. It’s filled with crosses, statues of Jesus, Mary, Saints Sebastian and Anthony, and a red lamp that burns with oil. The box is nailed to the wall, way above everyone’s height. The height indicates that God is our ultimate supervisor and watchman. My mother takes great care in refilling the lamp with coconut oil, replacing the flowers, and pouring fresh water into the copper vases. It’s a sacred space way above my height, and I must stand on a chair to peek inside and admire this wonder where every adult in the family bows and prays. As I compare the statue of Mother Mary to the medal hanging around my neck, I can’t help but feel a sense of marvel and awe in this house that’s anything but ordinary.