COLOMBO CHANGING FACE

(Excerpted from Life can be a Frolic by Goolbai Gunasekara)

COLOMBO’S TRAFFIC HAS REACHED almost unmanageable proportions of late. Well maybe not so late but I have been noticing that my usual book-read (as I get bumped along the roads) is far less comfortable than it used to be and is taking far longer too. Sitting in a car and enjoying the ride is no longer one of my happier pastimes, as I take double the time to reach my destination than, say, six months ago.

I live in Kotte so a foray into Colombo is not undertaken without considerable planning. One must consider the timetables of schools that lie between our home and the city. It has been known to take as much as an hour during the traffic ‘rushes’ but need barely 15 minutes if driving at 11 p.m. or some such traffic-less time.

Being thus forcibly imprisoned in a car for long stretches, I carry a book with me to pass the time interestingly. Naturally I am not overly concerned with the passing view since I assume I know it as well as the back of my hand. So imagine my shock when one annoying day my book of the moment was left at home by a careless driver. I was left with nothing to do after receiving abject apologies from a driver who does not enjoy answering my odd questions while he is driving. In fact, even when he is not driving.

To get back to my shock.

When had Colombo and its suburbs changed so much under my very nose? When had all these unfamiliar landmarks arisen? Under the last Rajapaksa government, the beautification of the city was a matter of delighted comment by everyone but me. I accepted it was happening but did not actually take notice – until now.

“Sarath – what has happened to Colombo?” “Nothing Madam.”

“What do you mean nothing? Where is the little beheth kade where we bought that medicinal oil? And where has Tailor Mendis’s shop gone?”

“Aney,

Madam. The beheth shop has not been there for two years. And Mendis tailor retired when the flyover work began.”

“Nonsense, I gave Mendis our Mahattaya’s two trousers to alter just last month.”

Sarath’s expression changes to one of patience. He thinks I’m nuts at the best of times. I’m only reaffirming his belief that I am quite touched in the head.

While this sort of conversation is taking place, I am admiring the new (to me) scenery. Two newly erected high-rises advertise brand new apartments.

“See that Sarath. That’s where I’d like to live.”

“Madam says that every six months.”

“Nonsense. I’m seeing it for the first time.”

Sarath’s expression is almost saintly in its forbearance. “Madam is reading and suddenly saying things anney.“

“I suddenly say things when you go over a bump and disturb me – not otherwise,” I tell him a trifle nastily.

Sarath develops a double chin while his whole body expresses outrage at this sheer bit of injustice. He is a superlative driver and knows it. He stops talking to me for the rest of the drive.

I am in a good mood during the return journey after a happy ladies’ lunch and a glass of wine (well, two to be exact).

I am giving Chereen a lift as I often do.

“So how Sarath?” she greets him. “I always tell your Madam to get me a good driver like you.”

I have forgotten my morning’s conversation and agree with her enthusiastically.

“Oh yes, I’m always telling Sarath he is such a good driver – aren’t I Sarath?”

He chokes. I continue blithely. “He hardly ever jerks the car. In fact, I can read comfortably during most of the drive nedhe Sarath?”

I realize that not only can I read but after heavy lunches I am usually sound asleep by the time Sarath has reached the first traffic light. I mend fences with him, but I still cannot believe how Colombo and her environs have sneakily changed without my noticing.

Sarath forgives me. He correctly puts my peculiarities down to age and there is not much doubt that he is right.

(Goolbai Gunasekara’s latest book, Life can be a Frolic is now available at leading booksellers)