92. MY TALLEST TALES EVER

They say evidence given by a child is unconditionally accepted in the court of law as truth. I don’t know whether this is just an urban legend but it better had to be as I know how much we lied as kids. Or are they really so naïve not to have heard all the tall tales we used to say as kids.  Sometimes these tall tales were blown so out of proportion that one had to be either so dumb to believe it or had to have a very good reason not to laugh at them. I remember a few of the tallest tales I ever said to other kids.

The Toy Plane that really flew:

Sometimes the tall tales had this nasty habit of adding more and more features each time it was told. Yeah, like that grampa’s fish, alright. My classmate Rathwatte boy, whose wealthy aristocratic background made most of his outrageous lies more convincing, used to boast often about his toy plane.

Another boy who seemed to have been to Rathwatte residence confirmed this. At the earliest versions, it was a battery operated plane that ran on the ground. And each time the story was retold, it upgraded to something that actually took off and flew by remote control. This fascinated me who was a huge fan of airplanes. When I told my mother about this she said anything was possible with them as they were aristocratic and stinking rich Rathwaththes. I had dreams of me owning a toy plane that really flew. 

By the end of the year, more features were added to the story as well as the plane and finally the Rathwatte boy actually could get into the small cockpit and fly the above his massive estate. This made me really long for one.  At least to see this.  I had daily dreams of me flying over the school yard over the mat slide and seesaw and some nights I was just flying without the plane. That was in the second grade.

My Biker Dad:

In fourth grade I used to sit in the same row with this arrogant and conceited boy Dhammika, who was constantly fighting with me over the same girl who was sitting between us. We were locked in a never ending battle to impress the girl and win her heart. 

Dhammika’s family had a newspaper agency or lottery agency which I can’t exactly remember. I think it is a lottery agency as I had this mental picture of his parents driving around in their much boasted dark green Volkswagen with the lottery stick with fluttering lotteries sticking out of the car window. I’m not sure if I have really seen it or this was my imagination. Most probably the latter. And they were regular lotteries whose first price was a car and the scratch type instant ones were yet to be invented.

What really made me resent Dhammika most was the slogan he always muttered when he broke his pencil into two or bit a half of the eraser and spat it towards the dust bin or tore pages off his exercise book crushed them into balls and threw them, saying “අපි නාස්ති කාරයෝ. අපිට සල්ලි ප්‍රශ්ණයක් නෑ." (We can waste because money is not a problem for us) just to impress the girl, which failed most of the time because she was more down to earth type.

Dhammika was a very grumpy and whiny one. The girl seemed just to tolerate him. It’s so funny that I can’t remember her name exactly. It was something to do with moon. Maybe Sandhamali or something like that.
 

At the beginning I was sitting in the middle which led to constant fist fights and alarmed the teacher who strategically made the girl sit in the middle. Even the girl was trying to play the peacemaker, sitting in the middle, keeping us away from each other’s reach.  This didn’t stop us who used to lean over her head or reach behind her back and punch or kick each other and pull each other’s hair. We sometimes stabbed each other with pencils leaving pencil lead under the skin. And an occasional punch landed on the peacemaker girl, too.

He often boasted about his dad’s driving skills and the Volkswagen’s incredible performance.

“My dad pushes that car to the limits."

“Hey, that old rust bucket?”

This had a duel effect of making the girl giggle and Dhammika instantly pissed. I was feeling euphoric.

“Not like that stupid old wreck of a motorbike of your dads.”

“Okay, how fast?”

“60,” he said. (Remember this is MPH not kmPH)

“Sixty? You call sixty a speed? Maybe it is a big speed for a Volkswagen. My dad usually does 70 on our bike. I sit on the tank. So I watch the meter."

“Your BSA can’t do 70.”

“You don’t know jackshit. It can do even faster. 70 is the cruising speed. Dad says engine misses when going any slower.”

“Okay how fast can it go?” Dhammika wanted to know.

“The speedometer's marked up to 80. They are made for speed.” I instantly regretted this. I should have added at least 20MPH more.

“Haha, Our car speedometer has up to 90.”

There I sure had stepped on shit. In no time I was on damage control mode recovering fast.
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“But now it can do 100 easily.”

“Liar, Liar How?”

“Talk about a shit you know. There is a peg in the speedometer at 80. Last week Dad and I went for a ride and he twisted it all the way. Then that peg broke because the needle was pressing against it and now it can go all the way to 100.”

No matter how outrageous this farfetched claim sounded, not only the girl whose technical know-how was no match for the us two gear-heads, but also Dhammika-the know-all seemed to believe this bullshit. I was a bit surprised at this unexpected hit.

That evening when we went to town I saw a green Volkswagen which I thought must be Dhammika’s. I peeped into see Dhammika but only a man with a cigarette stuck between his lips was behind the wheel. Later as my dad was filling the tank at the filling station we saw this car go sailing towards Oluganthota. The VW's beautiful engine beat with a whistle made me wince with envy.

The next day in class we had our horns locked as usual. 

“We saw your car yesterday, dad and I.”

“We saw your too, You were trying your best to overtake a bullock cart.”

This truly pissed me off but I did my best not to show it.  And the girl giggled to make the matters worse. I held my ground.

“What? Only your dad was there in that rickety old wreck when we saw that. No one else was there.”

“Okay, dad dropped me and mom at the shop and went to Oluganthota.”

“Heh heh, that’s where that thing happened.”

“What thing?” Dhammika eyes hardened.

“We were also going to Oluganthota.  Then your dad came along and overtook us. Sort of challenging way.”

This brought huge grin to Dhammika’s face. Even the girl narrowed her eyes and was staring at me with a puzzled expression.

“That’s what I told you, your BSA is no match for our Beetle.”

“You just wait. Then this pissed my dad off. He usually won’t take shit like that from anyone. “Hang on, son,” he said, He shifted up rapidly and sped after your car. Your dad was stepping on it too. We caught up with him easily. We were overtaking your car but in the middle of that he paused by your dad’s window. I looked at the speedometer. We were doing 70 on that twisty road. Another bend was coming up. Coolly my dad took out a cigarette while still riding the bike with the right hand and tapped the cigarette on Volkswagen's roof three times. Then he stuck the cigarette in the mouth a he tapped on the car window with the knuckle and asked your dad “Got a light, mate?” And your dad was so stunned. He gave his cigarette to my dad. My dad lit his one and handed the cigarette back over to your dad and said, “Thanks mate. Bye,” and twisted the handle grip. And Wham! Off we went. We were doing 90. I looked over my dad’s shoulder and watched your Volkswagen falling behind fast. After two bends there was no sign of him. When we bought the newspaper a Oluganthota and coming back we met your father still coming that way.”

Dhammika’s eyes popped out of his face and his mouth hung open. He watched me incredulously. Even the girl seemed suitably impressed.

“You are lying! He didn’t say anything like that happened yesterday. You are a big fat liar.”

“You think he would? Ever? To anyone?”

Dhammika knew when he was beaten and decided to shut up. And I can’t remember him saying anything about this incident or contradict it then or even later. I still can’t imagine why.

Read in Sinhala @ මගේ ඩෙනිම/MyBlue Jeans as

ටොම්පච, කෙබර, බේගල් සහ පම්පෝරි.

91. The Kindhearted One!

 

He loves animals, specially dogs.  And the dogs seem to unconditionally love him back.  Wherever he goes strange dogs around used to come looking for him. Unfortunately, in the country he had to spend his childhood in, displayed a sign at the airport which listed dogs as contraband in addition to fire arms, dart guns, idols of worship alcohol and pork products. So he had an aquarium instead.

90. Lovelocked Padlocks - the Love Token Hardware - The Russia We Saw - 1

 





Foot deep snow crunch under our feet as we walk down the wooded path to the river.  The merciless cold bite through the thick winter boots and two layers of thermal socks. The crisp chilly morning air hurts the lungs. When I turn my faces up towards the watery sun which is shining relatively brighter today, I feel the ghost of a warmth in the -7  ͦC Russian winter. We childishly shake the branches of the evergreens laden with snow creating mini s snowfalls.

89. THE TWO DIRECTORS WORLDS APART.

Photo from Facebook page of Gamini

I squinted at the small cardboard box on the computer table.  I picked it up and read the label. Engine Oil temperature sensor. The seal is broken. I opened the box and took the gadget out.  The metal gleamed. This is brand new. Then what is it doing sitting on the table? Usually if I replaced this last year, this box should contain the old oil stained used part.  And it shouldn’t be on the computer table.

88. IN THE AFTERMATH OF AN ORDEAL

My dear HeyDude,

My wife is cooking in the kitchen. She doesn't have the faintest idea that I nearly died 30 minutes ago. I didn't make up my my mind whether to tell her about my ordeal or not.

87. The Wonder Years With My Kids - 3

From Smartcracks Collecton On Our Son.
Hirusha and the Ethiopians

In an effort to make our children think twice before wasting any resources, we always took the less fortunate ones than us like the homeless people, the children in Somalia, and Ethiopia, etc. as examples.
“Hey don't waste food. There are millions in places like Ethiopia dying in starvation at this very moment.”

86. CRAZY HOBBIES. JOIN THE CLUB?

Well, just like a lot of people out there, I have some curious pastimes I've had as long as I can remember. If time cures it - in case it is a disorder - well, the time is up. So, no worries. They are here to stay.  There would be million other hobbies like this one out there some of which I share too, that you are (perhaps secretly) engaged in. And there would be millions out there who share the same interest that you are going read next.

Well without further ado, here we are.

85. Well, that's what it's all about, isn't it?

No birthday cake.
No gifts.
No party.
No guests.

Still I had the most memorable birthdays I've had in a very long while, yesterday, even though our kids were not home this time.

84. SNOT! Uncensored

Uncensored thoughts
 

I’m bored.

When I write “I’m” in “I’m bored”, I feel the pair of round, buggy eyes boring into me. They belong to the stalactite. When I write “bored” his eyes are trying to read what I’m writing, upside down.

I look at him trying to convey the message ‘Why the f**k are you trying to read what I’m writing?’ as effectively as possible with my eyes and facial expression. It works to some extent. He looks down at his question paper. The stalactite that was dangling from his right nostril swings crazily before it is sucked back into the dark cavern of his nose.

I start again.

83.Parallel Parking of Honest & Dishonest Parking.

The stretch of the Highway A2, Galle Road, running through Colombo 3 is widened and modernized with wider sidewalks with colored paving blocks.  Quite an eye pleasing improvement. But the improvements ends where it comes to parking. The designated color block paved parking places are owned by the ones who own the businesses nearby them. Or else, already occupied by an early bird. We wanted to go to the ‘PC Partner’ where I had bought an hp laptop and a lifetime friend with it. We were visiting him.

That was the third time I circled and retraced my own track. 

No change of status in the parking spaces. 

Then I saw it. 

82. On Rails To Badulla...The Final Part.

CAUTION: THE MEMORIES ARE IN THE MAKING...

This is the final part of an unforgettable train tour, on probably the most scenic rail route in Sri Lanka.

If you missed the first 4 parts, here they are.

On Rails To Badulla...Part One 

On Rails To Badulla...Part Two- Up to Kandy

On Rails To Badulla...Part Three - Up to Hatton

 On Rails To Badulla...Part Four - Up to Great Western

81.On Rails To Badulla... Part Four - Up to Great Western

In case you missed the previous parts:

On Rails To Badulla...Part One 

On Rails To Badulla...Part Two- Up to Kandy

On Rails To Badulla...Part Three - Up to Hatton

 We're pulling out of Hatton, which is a large and important station on upcountry line where all the trains stop. As this is closer to Sri Pada (Adam's Peak) the pilgrims who come on the train get off here.  

80. On Rails To Badulla... Part 3 - Up to Hatton

The Badulla bound පොඩි මැණිකේ and  Colombo bound උඩරට මැණිකේ, both Class S12 trains  passing each other at Watawala.

So we rolled off from Peradeniya. If you missed the two previous parts, these are the links.

On Rails to Badulla... Part 1
On Rails to Badulla... Part 2 Up to Kandy

79. On Rails To Badulla... Part Two - Up to Kandy

If you haven' read  "On Rails TO Badulla...Part One|", please click the link.

The Map. Lap one. We are going from Gampaha to Kandy

78. On Rails to Badulla... Part One

Finally we did something we’ve been putting off for years.  Last December, We made that long awaited, dream trip to Badulla on rails. Each time we saw a train roaring past us while we were held up at a level crossing or rattling along on rail tracks that ran parallel to the main road, a feeling of nostalgia swept over us. If you just wonder why we went there, crazy as it may sound, it was purely for the pleasure of the journey.  Have you set off on a journey, where all that mattered was the pleasure of traveling itself and not the destination at all? Just for the hell of it? 

77. SHIT HAPPENS. Nightmare on E01 - Part 2

If you missed the first part of this article Nightmare onE01-the Southern Expressway!, please press here.

I dreamed the luminous markings rushing at me out of the darkness in my sleep that night.  However I called Chunji as soon as I woke up.

76.Nightmare on E01-the Southern Expressway!

I stared incredulously at the dull yellow glow of my headlights reflecting off the aluminum garage door. They looked like two fireflies.  I stepped out and walked in front of the vehicle for the first time. They were like fireflies alright. This was unbelievable! Then the light outside the garage door came on. I got back into the van and waited patiently for the garage door to complete its leisurely upward crawl. Once the doorway was clear I drove in.

75. Welcome Home! - Vacation Tales.

We had started the homeward bound journey early in the morning and after traveling by land, sea and air hauling our heavy baggage through jetties and airports, were quite exhausted. The usual ticketing troubles caused by the reservation errors and many other mishaps that we are destined to have on our return journeys, just to take the thrill of coming home, haven’t been very helpful either. On the way from Katunayaka airport, too, I had to get off the van we had hired airport taxi service, so many times in search of a 5 liter bottle of water. It was past midnight when we reached home as usual. After the taxi departed leaving us home, we hauled the bags into the sitting room. 

The lights were working but the faucets were dry. This wasn’t unusual and all I had to do was to prime the water pump filling the suction line using the last bit of water left in the overhead tank through the special plumbing I have made just for that purpose. In the worst case scenario I have to go to the well, bring a bottle of water and use it to prime the pump. 

I used the LED rechargeable torch we had brought with us to walk through the garden overgrown with weeds and covered with layers of dried leaves. While my wife was dealing with the spider webs and dust inside, my son helped me to deal with the water problem.

Using the water from the overhead tank didn’t help because there didn’t seem to be any. So, I went to the well and brought a bottle of water and started filling the line. Unlike other times the whole bottle of water just disappeared gurgling down the pipeline and never topped up. Five or six 5 liter cans of water later, we decided to use a huge Sheetrock bucket to bring the water. Hauling the bucket from the well was a killing job even though both my son and I were lifting the bucket from two sides. But just because we wanted to get the job done so badly, we ignored the soggy shoes and muddy water creeping up our jeans legs. 

We poured the contents of the entire bucket into the waterline and watched it disappear making gurgling noises. Anyway we switched on the water pump and anxiously waited for the noise of water pouring into the overhead tank. No such luck. The pump was running dry. We switched it off fearing a burnout, running it dry.

“Shall we bring one more bucket of water and try?” I finally asked my son who as disgusted as me.

“We have to get the water running somehow, don’t we? Okay let’s go,” he said.

Bringing another bucket of water was a nightmare but we did it. Not only once. We hauled bucket after bucket of water from the well and poured into the waterline. It never filled up as expected. I suspected the foot valve must be faulty and the water was pouring back into the well. Finally we brought another bucket of water and left it in the bathroom because we couldn’t even flush the toilet.

Wait a minute! I had a priming point under the driveway. Because it used to get damaged by vehicle tires, especially those of tractors and trucks which brought in building materials those days, I had buried it under a layer of concrete. Maybe a leak has sprung there. I got the gardening tools and started digging the driveway while my son shone the flash light beam. After many failed attempts, I managed to dig up the pipe line and find the place covered with the layer of concrete.  I hammered away at the concrete and after a long struggle found that the joint was dry.

At about 5 o’clock in the morning, after struggling to get the water for so many hours, we just flopped on the beds with sweat, dirt and mud and tried to sleep. We had tried to boil some water from the 5 liter water bottle and make some tea, but found the gas cylinder was empty.

I woke up in one hour as this water problem was bothering me. I woke up and tried to fill water one more time. After dawn, I went to two neighbors who were awake now and borrowed two lengths of garden hose to attach to my garden hose to get water from the front house faucet instead of manually hauling water from the well. At the same time bought a gas cylinder from the hardware store next door. Then we boiled some water and managed to have a warm cup of tea. 

The guy who is renting the front house saw me and asked what the problem was. When I explained he said, “Bro, I think your pipeline could be damaged in the middle.” 

“No way? This is a buried along my driveway. It is impossible for that to get damaged. And I checked it digging it up. It sure must be the damn foot valve.”

He wanted to say some more, but obviously changed his mind. He must have been listening to our struggle last night. 

I took a long pole and shook the foot valve underwater. Then tried to fill water this time with the garden hose connected to the faucet of the front house. Still the water gurgled down the pipe and disappeared. I bent into the well and tapped the pipeline to make the ball valve drop down in case it was jammed. The tried again. The same result.

Now my plan was to empty the well, get into it and check and replace the foot valve. I went to the neighbor who rents submersible water pumps. The sign on his door said OPEN, but he was still going through his daily religious rituals prior to business. I walked back home intending to return a little later.

I shook the foot valve one more time and tried to fill the waterline. Same result! Frustrated, I was walking along the driveway back to the well when I noticed the patch of water in the middle of the drive. Well as it had rained the previous day there was water on the drive, but this pool of water was different. I just thought it was growing. I squatted down and watched the edges of the pool of water. Hell! It was growing. I was overwhelmed with relief! At least I found the cause and I don’t have to empty the well!

This place was a few feet away from the place I dug in the night. And I started excavating with a lot of care. And the hole I dug started to fill with muddy water. The water, we have been feeding the pipeline with all night. And what I saw swept me off my feet. The pipeline was severed in the middle. Actually a piece about a foot long was missing. No wonder the water never topped up! And What I saw next made me throw a fit. The other end of the pipeline was neatly blocked with an end cap!

Then I understood. The neighbors have cut down a tree and a falling tree or a stub of a limb has pierced the earth and severed the pipeline. Why the hell nobody told me and save us all the back breaking labor we had last night? Actually the guy next door knew this but didn’t want to get involved. And why the hell didn’t they repair the damage and save us all the trouble?

I walked to my brother in law, who is always there to help. He was back from night duty and was sleeping. The thrill of seeing me didn’t last long when I explained the situation to him. 

“Oh my god!” he said. “Yes, they cut down a tree and a trunk fell on to your driveway severing your pipeline middle. Actually a stub of a branch had pierced the ground. I was the one to fix the end cap. I actually intended to repair that, but I forgot! 

He volunteered to come with me to help me. Together we cleaned the two ends and with an extra length of pipe and PVC Glue and managed to mend it. 

After that I watched the water filling up the line and top up and when I switched on the water pump the note changed and it started to pump water into the overhead tank, the sound of which was sweet music to our ears. I waited eagerly to see the tank fill up and overflow into the garden. 

I opened a faucet and listened to the sweet music the water made splashing the sink singing Welcome home!

Epilogue: 

I looked around the garden. The garbage pit was full of junk. There were broken glasses neatly packed in poly-sacks and left on my toilet pit. There were broken old fashioned four foot florescent lights which we don’t use. Windows glasses we don’t have, glassware we have never seen, perfume bottles we never used. And to top it off, I had huge pile of coconut branches piled up near the staircase from a tree that was cut. And we have no coconut trees. Anyway it was easier to remove than the tree trunks they had piled up last time when we came, which gave us a hell of a time to return to the proper owners. It was nice to be back anyway.

Simulblogged in  මගේ ඩෙනිම in Sinhala Language.