58. Marking the Territory.

I saw Umesh’s dad as a strange, detached person. He wasn’t home much, except on weekends. Maybe, because he was a lawyer who worked in another district. He didn’t talk much and I was careful to steer clear of him. And, I had this nagging feeling that he didn’t like my being there. Well, that was the impression I got.

One day, I asked Suresh, “Dude, is your dad mad at me or something?”

“Oh, no Henry Aiya,” Suresh said, “That’s his nature. Don’t worry about that. Actually some days he asks Mommy about you, like if you had your meals!”

Maybe because he was a man of law, even the dinner was a silent affair when he was home.  Silence reigned. Even Umesh used short, formal answers like “Yes sir!”, “No sir” when talking to his own dad, which looked a bit weird to me. It reminded me of the movie “The Sound Of Music”

  

And, dad was unpredictable and would yell at anybody, anywhere. And, he voiced his opinion aloud, to the embarrassment of his anyone who had to accompany him, no matter what.

“Henry Aiya, I don’t want to go anywhere with him if I can avoid it in the first place," Suresh said one day. “You never know what he’d do."

"Sometimes Mommy sends me with him by force. And, on top of that, I have to carry his awful fabric satchel, too. You know what happened one day?"

"Mommy asked me to go with him to where he works. I had no choice. So both of us went there and we stayed the night in his boarding place. So early next morning, both of us were at the bus stop to come back to Kandy. First thing he did was handing that dreadful, old fashioned, snake charmer's satchel to me. Dude, I hate to carry that, but again, I had no choice.

Now both of us were standing there at the bus stop. Dad opened a newspaper. More and more people started arriving.  I slowly slipped the bag off my shoulder and left it on the ground because I saw some school girls join the waiting crowd. They were giggling and wriggling from the time they came and I was also becoming very interested in them by the minute.  And, actually one pretty chick was giving me the eye. Yeah. And I took one more step away from the incriminating bag.

And my heart was picking up speed in excitement when things started to go wrong.  Actually that morning, bad luck arrived on four legs, in the form of a stray dog. He first sniffed the metal pole of the bus stop, lifted his paw and watered it.

The bored dudes at the bus stop who had nothing better to do, watched this with amusement. The giggle-ready  girls giggled.

But I didn’t. My sixth sense switched to over drive and recognized the impending doom. The world stood still. I sensed it that day in every hair of my body, I felt cold sweat break out on my forehead and back. And, my throat felt dry like sandpaper. I distinctly felt my heart pounding a double beat in my head.

This goddamn dog marked his territory on the metal pole and made a U turn to go. Then he saw the damned satchel on the ground and paused. He trotted over to it with a twinkle in his eye and sniffed it. I froze. No way! How could  I claim the satchel now?

The rest happened in slow motion. The dog lifted the paw over Dad’s satchel and sprinkled it. I felt dizzy. Girls giggled louder. One dude, blurted out, “Shit, whose bag is that?”

Dad who had buried his nose in the newspaper all this time must have heard that remark. He lowered the paper and peered over his glasses. I watched in dismay as his eyes  bulged out.   His face distorted, He gritted his teeth and screamed, “Are you blind, you idiot? Didn’t you see that damned dog pissing on the damned bag?”

I felt naked. I felt my cheeks burning. I wished I simply disappeared from the face of this earth. Girls giggled louder and I saw them covering their mouths to the corner of my eyes while I bent over to pick up the satchel. And as I hugged the bag, that now dripped dog pee, the girls roared with laughter.

Just then, the bus arrived. Everybody jostled  and shoved to board it. Daddy seemed to have suddenly lost interest to get home early. “Let’s catch the next bus, this seems to be crowded,” dad said, surely out of the empathy he felt towards me."
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THIS STORY WAS ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED IN MY SINHALA BLOG මට හිතෙන හැටි AS සීමාව ලකුණු කිරීම. PLEASE CLICK THE LINK TO READ IN ORIGINAL LANGUAGE.
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57. HAIR GEL.

“Then  I was a kid,” Umesh said opening his archives ‘down the memory lane’.

“When I go to our bathroom, I see a lot of beauty culture stuff that belonged to my sisters. I used to experiment with them in secret.”

“Once, a bottle with a picture of a beautiful gloss head of hair on the label attracted my attention. I managed to read the word H-A-I-R with some difficulty and my mind was set to experiment with it. After a shower and drying my hair, I poured some of the stuff onto my palm and rubbed into my hair. Mmm  the smell was awesome, too. When I combed my hair, to my greatest delight, it was in total control! Wow! Just the stuff I ‘ve been looking for!”

“And after that day, I used to help myself to the magic stuff before going to school.”

“Everything was quite fine until one fateful day, a cricket ball with a bad notion, homed in on my head and drew blood. The first aid dudes of School ‘Saukyadana’ Unit carried me to the First Aid Room. They held my head over the basin and started washing my head as it was still bleeding.”

“And to everybody’s amazement foam suds appeared from my hair. And the more they washed the more  it foamed. Finally one dude asked, “What on earth did you rub into  your hair, bro? Shampoo?” Then it magically dawned on my whiz brain, that my future and reputation was riding on my answer.   So I let it ride and groaned louder to show them that my head injury was more serious than they thought, which diverted attention away from the suds and bubbles.”

“As soon as I returned home I made a beeline to the bathroom and checked the label under better perspective.”

“Yeah! The word SHAMPOO was staring at me in the eye! How could I’ve known, dude!” said Umesh.

Epilogue:

“No one knows about this, so I don’t want you make it public , okay?”

“Whew, dude, What makes you think I’d do that?”

THIS STORY WAS ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED IN මට හිතෙන හැටි, MY SINHALA BLOG.

Happy Anniversary

A love so sweet

Yet so strong

A bond so deep

That  wins it all.

My only wish

Is that some day

I’ll have a love

As special as yours.

A love that never

Ever fails

In good and bad

It stands strong.

And on your 26^th

We want you two to know

That the years you’ve passed are just a few

The years yet to come are very much more

May your love grow stronger each single day

With new memories to cherish

With happiness in your hearts

 

Thaththa and Amma,

Wish you a very very happy 26^th anniversary!  

Thanks for the best love story we’ve ever seen!

Written by Hiruni

Click here to read henryblogwalker's Poem on Happy Anniversary.

55.Veggie Remedy For The Guilty Feeling

This is another story from Padidilian series. 

Suresh is Umesh’s younger brother. We became buddies during the time I was a boarder there. Well, not exactly. I’m not doing justice to them and their hospitality, if I use the word ‘boarder’, which is an ugly, commercial word. I was actually their guest, because Umesh was my friend. And they didn’t charge me for anything. 

I was in my first year at the Teachers’ College in Peradeniya, Kandy. Umesh was still working in Ampara and came home about twice a month.

In a world where everything was money, the Padidilians were an exceptional family. They never asked for money for my stay, nor food. When I made an attempt to pay them they flatly refused it and said I was Umesh’s friend and that their home was no boarding place. I could stay with them as long as I liked so long as I don’t try to be funny offering money in exchange of friendship. 

Sri Lankans are a hospitable nation. So hospitable that the westerners would misunderstand it for something else. Still this was very strange. And them not being millionaires either. They treated me as family. 

I somehow was suffering from this guilty feeling of being a parasite and taking the mean advantage of their kindness. 

So one day, I bought a huge bag of vegetables home, just because this guilt was tormenting me. As soon as I went in the door, Suresh saw me. 

“Hey, dude, where are you going fully loaded” with that sneering grin he is famous for. 

I, suddenly realizing what was in store for me, said. 

“Dude, do me a help! Can you take this into the kitchen for me?” 

“Whaaat??? You brought all these for us?” Suresh hollered. “Mommy, mommy, come and take a look at this. Look… we got a visitor…Mommy!” 

The whole household came out running to gape at me as if I was something the cat had just brought in and then started howling with laughter. I felt like a clown. 

“What made you do such a stupid thing, my boy?” Mommy asked finally, when she recovered  enough to speak. 

And that, unfortunately, wasn’t the end of it. It was only the beginning of some Padidilian dinner time entertainment.

 Each time they cooked one of the vegetables I had brought that day, either mommy or a sister just would announce at the dinner table. “Today special is our dudes, beans and corrots…” and so on. 

And mommy would watch me for some time with her wide motherly grin and say” Henry, you are a wonderful…” Before she finishes her sentence I hastily to fill the blank “...idiot”, in the hope of avoiding a more eloquent vocabulary . 

And the day when I saw the last of the vegetables, no need to say, I felt so relieved. So long as I stayed with the Padidilians, I never did anything ‘stupid’ like that. 

 And In a few months I moved to the college hostel. 

I miss that loving family even now. 

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If you haven't read the Part One of the Series "Tongue Twister Family", click here. 

If you want to read the original Sinhala version of this post 
පැඩිඩිලියන් 2 – වරදකාරී හැඟීමට එළවලු වලින් ප්‍රතිකාර, click here.

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54. Tongue Twister Family.

We’ve inherited so much from our imperialistic invaders, the Portuguese, the Dutch and the British. Some of us aren’t even aware that kamisa (shirt), sapaththu (shoes), paan (bread) isthoappuva (verandah), aren’t even Sinhalese words. They’ve run so deep and are comfortably localized and naturalized.

I’m sure you are so much familiar with Silvas,  Pereras , Fernandos and Fonsekas.

But ever heard of Padidilians? 

Well, I once knew a whole family of them. I met Umesh Padidilian for the first time at the Pre Service Teacher Training at the Teachers’ College at Peradheniya in  Kandy.  Umesh is a handsome dude who reminded one of Ranjan Madugalle, the cricketer.

Oh what a time it was!! 

After the pre service, to the immense relief of both of us, both Umesh and I were appointed to the same area for the compulsory difficult area service. Our schools were in the city and within a few minutes’ walk from each other.

This compulsory difficult area service for all government employees is generally regarded as ‘going to hell alive’. And everyone was dreaming about coming back home as soon as possible from those God forsaken places. We were no exceptions. And today, though it may seem strange, I feel so much nostalgic about those years.

Okay, back to the Padidilians.  

The first impression you get about the Padidilians is their talkativeness. They have a way of talking themselves out of any situation. They were rich in vocabulary and knew how to use it to the best effect. I was never bored of listening to their spicy tales with that unique Padidilian accent in eloquent English or Sinhala. Even the way their mouths worked was something to gawk at.  They had the talent of narrating even the most boring story in the most appealing way possible. 

To get to Ampara, where we were appointed, you have to pass Kandy, then those famous 18 hairpin bends, Mahiyangana and Padhiyathalava. And more than normal CTB buses, there were those small minivans like Isuzu Elf Route Vans, Toyota Hiace and Nissan Caravans. 

And there were military check points on the way!

One such day, at a check point either at Mahaoya, or Padhiyathalava, I can’t remember which, they were stopped for inspection. If you aren’t familiar with the routine. First, you are stopped at the barrier with a stop sign. Then the driver switches off the engine and waits. The conductor reports to the temporary office with documents. The passengers take their bags and get off to form a line with IDs in hand to be scrutinized , patted down, questioned and then walk through the barrier under the vigilant eyes of soldiers with T56 automatic rifles. Once cleared the passengers flock on the other side waiting for the vehicle which would be searched and released before crossing the barrier. 

Once the vehicle arrives, the passengers retrieve their original seats with mixed success and wait for the others who are still going through the inspection process to arrive.

That day, there was unusual delay for the van to resume the journey. When the passengers peeked through the dusty rear window, all they saw was one passenger being grilled by the soldiers who were now gathered around. The other passengers were growing furious as the temperature and the humidity inside the jam packed small van was rising. After a lengthy delay of sweating and cursing in the sweltering heat, the detained passenger arrived red faced and furious at the uniforms. 

Then, to make the matters worse, passengers started grilling him.

“Why did it take so long, sir?”

“Oh, that was because my name was a bit unfamiliar. They were suspicious.”

“Why? Aren’t you Sinhalese?” Passengers asked with growing suspicion.

“I am Sinhala alright, dude!” This was said a bit harshly.

“Then, what’s wrong?” One dude asked.

“Ok, ok, What is your name sir?” A bit more sensible passenger asked.

“Umesh Padidilian”

Everybody gawked with jaws dropping.

“Paddy..what?” There was a murmer while everyone was trying to pronounce the unpronounceable.

“Padidilian,” Umesh said with his patience wearing thin.

“What the hell kind of a name is that sir?”

“Dude, My great great-great-grandfather was Spanish!” Umesh explained.

“What the f***** Hell, sir,” one passenger yelled, “Why the hell don’t you have a pronounceable name like the rest of us without wasting everyone’s time?”

By the time he told us this story at dinner, he was back in his normal jovial mood.

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Click here for part 2 of the Series, "Veggie Remedy For The Guilty Feeling"

If you want to read the original Sinhala version of this post 

පැඩිඩිලියන්ලා, click here.

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53. Some Guys Have All The Luck!

“When I discovered I really have no talent in writing I had been a writer for 15 years!”

“Then what did you do? Gave up writing?”

“How can I? By then I had become a popular writer.”

   

     Though this is just a joke I have heard, it has something common with my situation.  Though I’ve been a teacher most of my life, teaching is way down in my career preference list. Or in other words a list of cool jobs.  Come to think of it! Teaching is not there at all.

     Just take a quick look at this very concise and censored list: This is not necessarily  in order of preference.

Photographer, Photo Journalist, Journalist, Travel Writer, Writer, Artist, Architect, Civil Engineer, Draughtsman, Landscape Artist, Horticulturist, Pilot, Aircraft Technician, Rally Driver, F1 Driver, PTI, Doctor, Surgeon, Seaman, Computer Dude, Computer aided designing , Fashion designer, Advertising, Guitarist, Engine Driver…

 

     This, by no means suggest that I’m an unpopular teacher. According to the critics, I’m supposed to be one of the best, ever, if this doesn’t sound like blowing my own trumpet. But I hate teaching so much, I’d rather be anywhere else other than the classroom on a  Monday morning. I’d wake up in the morning to go anywhere else other than to the school!

     My ambition had taken different perspectives through the passage of time. Sounds familiar, huh? Each time I visited a circus I had wanted to be an acrobat and  I thought it would be an awesome thing to be an ice cream van driver because I would be the center of attention of all the kids and also I had the chance to park under a shady tree and eat my merchandise  if I pleased.  So time and time again it switched between fireman, bus driver, jack hammer operator, crane operator, engine driver, miming artist, drummer, girls’ school bus driver and so on.

      I became a teacher because I happened to pass an entrance exam I wrote while I was job-hunting. Teaching, a thankless job,  lost its attraction due to the extreme stress it entailed and lack of freedom. You had to live up to the expectations the society set for you.  And too much was expected of you. Job satisfaction was some mythical thing. You are rarely appreciated, but more often criticized. It had long term goals most of the time depended on luck and the effort of someone else. A baker had a better chance, because if he bakes bread he gets bread in a few hours. 

     I always thought playing the guitar would be cool, which I used to do in my free time.  Well, at least until the day I met Dhanushka, a friend of mine who worked in the army band.

"Hey, you are one really lucky bastard",I said giving a light playful buddy punch on his chest.
 

"Why are you saying like that Henry Aiya?" Dhanushka asked. 
He always had a pleasant smile.

"Dude. Our jobs have a hell of a lot of stress. Whenever I get some free time, I love to play the guitar. It really unwinds me. I’d be doing that that all day long if given a chance than to teach a bunch of unruly kids.  But I have to return to reality."

"So?" 

"So you people on the other hand, get paid to do a cool thing like playing a guitar. Aren’t you lucky? I feel so jealous about you guys.  Some guys have all the luck and some guys get all the breaks! 
   

“Ha ha ha!!!”  he snickered in obvious amusement.

"What’re you laughing at? What’s so funny?" I asked.

"Hey dude, listen. I also used to love playing guitar before I joined the army band. Now that I have to do it as a job, I started hating it. Do you know in my free time, I don’t even want to touch a guitar.  I’d rather dig a hole in the ground than playing the guitar in my free time, oh yeah!"

I watched him letting what he just said sink in slowly.

"And do you know" he continued,  "these city schools ask for our service to train their school bands. We guys in the army band really fall over each other to grab a chance to train school bands? We love working with children, dude." 

Oh, Come on man! Gimme a break!!

52. VERY HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

Birthday “WISH” of a Mom & Dad

Though you would be

15

today

We wish you would still

hug us as tight and say good night.

And when in doubt,  ask for our advice.

And you would wrap your arms around our necks,

even in a swarming crowd,

without the slightest discomfort.

And you would still share 

your never ending views and opinions about

movies, books, music,

trains, planes,automobiles,

 guns,  games, computers

and anything that matters with us.

And you would still tell a joke,

pull a prank and make us mad,

throw us a playful punch,

tickle and tease  us  a little.

And most important of all

Not be ashamed to show emotions

no matter who is around

like you always used to.

And remember we’d dread the day,

you would outgrow them,

because

you’d never be too big in our eyes.

just because 

you’ll always be our little son.

BIRTHDAY WISH OF A SISTER.

The day we brought you home

When  you were newly born

You were so little

I thought you were brittle

You were the cutest thing

The laughter you’d bring

And you were a smart one

We just knew that you were the one

I remember playing all alone

With no sibling to play along

And then my only wish was someone

I wouldn’t have to share with anyone

Then my prayer was answered

A little brother was granted

And the day you came home

Our hearts just felt so warm

The Chupa-Chups you always bribed us into

The ‘penthinis’ you always just clung to

The times you at once disappeared

And from under the chairs you reappeared

Even in those few bad times

You would always bring about smiles

With your jokes and clowning

We felt our problems trifling

I am not saying you are an angel all the while

And not that we agreed all the time

There were times you’d drive me nuts

And make me feel that I am a mutt

Remember the fights we always had

And all the times we made each other so mad

I am sure Thaththa and Amma thought

We just always yelled, screamed and fought

But we’d always stand up for each other

You are always my little brother

And whenever you need me

Just know that here I will be

When I remember now you’ve grown up

Seems like yesterday you were trying to stand up

But even though we are miles apart

Remember you will always be in my heart

This is to the best Malliya anyone can ever ask for, 

WISH YOU A BLESSED B’ DAY MALLIYA!

Love you a lot

Yours Akki