The Sri Lankan Sojourn - Friends All Around

My next two days went off swimmingly.  I was the first International Keynote Presenter.  I was also part of the panel discussion that wound up the summit.  There was a lot of banter, backslapping, great food, entertainment, exchange of visiting cards and wine.  And, my real trip started thereafter.  On the first evening post the conference, I left the banquet to go out with Charith who took me for a drive around Colombo by the night – and I saw the old Dutch Hospital (now, a super-cool 5-Star restaurant), some Indian temples, the beach, the popular hangouts and the cleanliness of Colombo.  

We even saw the Gangaramaya temple in the night, met his two friends at the temple, drank the best lemonade in a long time on a roadside place.  The nation that used to sleep at sundown during the heydays of the LTTE has slowly started changing.  There are more cars on the road at night now; the fear of being blown up or shot has almost melted away.  The beach sees a lot of visitors even on weekdays and fills up to suffocation on weekends.  

The second day at the Summit was shorter as we wound up by 4.  My Indian co-delegates had suggested in the morning that we go out shopping together.  I’d texted Roshan where to go.  “House of Fashion, Duplication Street” had come back the response immediately along with, “Are we meeting this evening?” “Yes, of course” I said.  “Okay! 6:30 I’ll come to the hotel and pick you up and take you around on my bike” he shot back. 

The House of Fashion is known among all travellers to Colombo.  A colleague of mine had gushed about her visit there last year.  Among other things, one gets to buy branded stuff (possibly seconds and export discards) at throw-away prices here.  Sample this: a good BOSS shirt would cost barely 800Rs (Indian) and an Arrow, about Rs 500.  My new Indian friends shopped substantially while I resisted every urge to splurge with supreme difficulty.  I however made a mistake of not shopping for souvenirs here for friends.  I could’ve easily bought some nicely packaged tea (umpteen flavours in various tin forms, resembling books, mangoes a la Sri Lanka) at very reasonable prices.  I still regret this.  

While window-shopping I left my camera bag (it went with me everywhere) and the sales manager at the shop found me to return it.  The ‘bhulakkad’ that I’m, I repeated this at almost every place I visited and still didn’t end up losing it.  My lucky stars and the infinite goodness in the Sri Lankan people.

My new friends and I went around the Gangarama Temple after their shopping spree.  The temple is a new structure in front of an old monastery dating back to the 18th Century.  And, the temple name is misleading.  It is a pansala (meaning a Buddhist temple, in Sinhala; ‘palli’ would refer to a mosque or a church while it’s Kovil – the Tamil word - for the Hindu temple) while it gives an impression of being a Hindu temple to us Indians.  Of course (like in most Buddhist temples in Sri Lanka) you will find the temples of Hindu Gods and Goddesses – here Ganesha, Rama and Siva - within the complex.  This is reputed to be one of the richest temples in the country.  Evidence was not very far from sight.  Ivory everywhere, golden statuettes, contributions from various countries, vintage cars, and donations from ardent devotees have flown in generously.  The entire place is a strange potpourri of Chinese, Sri Lankan and Indian design.  Outside the temple you find more statues along with a road roller from the earliest times of road building.  Sri Lankan – for all the right reasons – appear to be very proud of their road construction.  When you travel to Kandy, you will even find a museum dedicated to road construction.  Do visit if you find time.  

Roshan’s call came exactly at the moment we reached back the hotel.  He too had reached the hotel – along with a friend, Dilshan.  I’d assumed from the brief interaction before arriving in Sri Lanka that Roshan works for ann NGO dealing with HIV and sexual health.  I was mistaken.  He runs his own outdoor advertising firm and volunteers as an activist.  Niluka, his partner, is pursuing graduation in English Literature, apart from assisting in Roshan’s business and also working with a UN funded project on sexual health.  Niluka was away in Kandy when we met at the beach.  Work and studies ensure Niluka is in Kandy for three days in a week.  We went out to the beach, yapped away to glory trading stories over butter naans, chicken curry and multiple cups of tea.  We were joined by Charith too later.  Though the beach is right in the heart of Colombo, it is clean and the water’s decent to get in.  Though it was a weekday, the beach was bustling with activity.  There are umpteen number of thelas selling seafood and parathas (surprising, as otherwise Sri Lankan indulge in rice).  And, almost all food joints are called ‘NANA’.  Once there, Charith started talking to the thelewala in Tamil and I asked him, “How did you know he could speak Tamil? You’ve been here before?” 

“Most of these stalls are run by Tamil Muslims who have migrated from the strife-torn Northern provinces”.  “Oh!”

I had asked if I could leave my (excess) baggage with Roshan while I would travel to Kandy and he had readily agreed.  After seeing me off at the hotel, he carried my rather heavy attaché.  Charith left soon too, after giving me the number of Vishy.  She’d help me find accommodation in Kandy.  

One thing that stands out while you travel in Sri Lanka is the warmth and the hospitality of its people.  Even when they do not understand your tongue, they still try their best to help you.  Almost everyone you meet warms up to a conversation, treats you well – a rare experience for Indians in any country.  Like in India, the auto (tuk-tuk) drivers try to fleece you (though very reasonable compared to their Indian counterparts) but they are not rude and do not itch to quarrel.  Except at the temple of tooth in Kandy where the response was cool, everywhere else, I received abundant smiles, assistance and positive vibes.

On the 20th morning I had a leisurely (and heavy) breakfast and checked out of the hotel.  I almost had this crazy desire to flick a piece of driftwood that was kept as an ornamental piece in the room!  The tuk-tuk ride to the bus station cost me Rs 350.  With no difficulty I found an Air Conditioned minibus to Kandy.  Once on the bus I called Vishy who asked me to reach her the moment I alighted in Kandy.  

The Sri Lankan Sojourn - The Curtain Raiser

(Okay, Okay, I need to finish this Summit story soon and I promise I’ll do it without blowing trumpets pronto)!

Richard had told me that there was a get-together at the Breeze Bar (by the swimming pool) in the evening, a welcome party for all the delegates and speakers at the Summit.  I wondered what to wear and finally settled on my uber-colourful shirt for the eve!  I didn’t want to be at the ‘do’ right on the dot.  So, went around the shopping mall, found an ATM and drew some Sri Lankan money (as I wasn’t carrying any dollars and Indian money wasn’t accepted anywhere).  But, that still had left some time on my hands.  I just walked out of the hotel thinking I’d take a stroll on the beach that didn’t look too far.  I barely had crossed the road and walked a few steps, a stranger accosted me.  “You staying at the hotel right?” 

“Yes” 

“I work as a bartender there.  Where are you going?” 

“I just thought I’d go to the beach” 

“Oh but you must first go to the gem exhibition that’s going on.  It’s the last day today.  And, they’re giving huge discounts”

“I’m not interested”

“There’s no pressure to buy. Just go and see.  You may not get such an opportunity again”.  

Before I could say anything else, he’d called an auto, spoken to him Sinhala and asked him to take to the exhibition.  “How much to pay him?” 

“Oh don’t worry; he’ll charge by the meter”.  The auto’s called tuk-tuk in Sri Lanka (like in Thailand).  The driver asked me where I’m from and I said, India.  He happily pointed to his auto and said, “This is also made in India”.  The same story would repeat each time I’d board a tuk-tuk in Sri Lanka – be in Colombo, Kandy or Dambulla.  

The so-called exhibition place was hardly any distance away and it actually was a shop.  There were neither any signs of exhibition to me nor any boards that declared discounts.  I saw a man working diligently on a jewel-cutting-cum-polishing machine.  “Can I take a picture?” I asked the men who were chatting there.  “Please sir, but also see our wares inside”.  I walked in with a heavy heart, learnt of the names of many precious and semi-precious stones and walked out promising them to come back the next day.  

The auto driver on the way back said, “That man who spoke to you to come with me doesn’t work with the hotel as you think.  He’s an agent for these shopkeepers and a drug addict”.  I had seen similar things at other places – Agra being one of them.  It was a sales gimmick I wasn’t willing to fall for easily.  But I learnt, as I interacted with other (Indian and otherwise) delegates, that many had fallen for this and had bought gems by bagsful.  

The evening at the pool-side party rocked.  My inhibitions vanished with every peg of Black Label (“just water please with my scotch” made the waiters almost pop their eyes off).  It was good to rub shoulders with the high and mighty from the various governments – 14 countries in all.  Some even displayed sparkling wit and disarming sense of humour, especially those from Maldives.  And, Sri Lankans were turning out to be really good hosts.  But when I realized the time wasn’t standing still I chose to return to my room.  

“Was there any call for me?” I asked the receptionist.  “Yes Sir.  Also, someone had come looking for you.  He’s left something for you at your room”.  “Thanks”.  

Before I left India, a friend from Chennai - Senthil - had asked me if I could carry something for his friends there and I had agreed to and brought a parcel along with me.  Also, I’d befriended another Sri Lankan.  When I reached the room I found an envelope with a letter and two SIM cards – one for the phone and another for the data card.  From a very thoughtful Charith, a pilot from the Srilankan Airlines.  I called him and discovered he lived two minutes away from the hotel.  He promised to come.  My hotel telephone rang and it was Roshan this time.  Roshan was the friend Senthil wanted me to deliver the parcel to.  “Hello Sudhir, why don’t you check your voice mail?” I had no answer to that (how would I know there would be voicemail?) He too was waiting all evening for my call while I was happily getting drunk.  “Why don’t you come now?” I asked.  He agreed to come.  

It was a happy coincidence to discover that Charith and Roshan (who arrived with Niluka) each other.  After spending a while they returned.  These three were the musketeers (along with Vishy in Kandy) who made my trip so much more memorable than it could ever have been otherwise.  

(to be continued....)

Sri Lankan Sojourn - Prologue

Being nominated to go to Sri Lanka to take part in the FutureGov SAARC Summit 2012 (held in Colombo on July 18-19) brought in mixed reactions within me.  I was elated that I was going to an International Summit where 14 Countries were participating (7 countries apart from the SAARC zone).  That was an honour.  But, going to Sri Lanka of all places?  All other colleagues were getting nominated to go to more popular, European, American or Pacific nations while I was just going next door.  I cursed my luck and felt cheated too – my mind playing the spoilsport as ever in even the moment of pride.  It reminded me of previous such disappoints too (like, missing out on Lebanon assignment and being shunted to Bhutan instead; it was another matter that I fell in love with Bhutan).

My presentation was on what I’m currently associated with – Aadhaar, the Project that aims to provide a Unique Identity to every Indian resident.  It took me a lot of effort to even take a stab at preparing the slides.  In the meantime the organizers even called in and requested if I’d be fine in sitting on a discussion panel on financial inclusion.  I agreed to it as I head the processes of Financial Inclusion and Authentication (Application Development and Operations).  I wasn’t certain if I did the right thing by agreeing to be on the panel.  Other panellists were eminent (and much senior) people – a Director General from Pakistan, a senior Joint Secretary from the Ministry of Rural Development, India and Chairman of a successful banking group in Sri Lanka.  I was certain I’d make a fool out of myself.

I barely managed to cobble together a presentation and sent across to Richard (Richard Pain, from FutureGov, the Organiser of the event, was my contact for all details, arrangements and we had lengthy conversations over the phone and multitudes of mail exchange) as the entire office was plagued by one crisis after another just before my trip.  A field study that was planned was going haywire and there were frantic VCs, conference phone calls late in the night, weekend working – apart from heartburn, disappointment, frustration, anger, accusations and counter-accusations as the problems refused to abate.  Amidst all this I had to get my Official/Diplomatic Passport done, travel to Delhi to get my gratis Visa – I requested if I could use my ordinary passport and the answer was in the negative (had they said yes, I could’ve obtained ETA online and saved on my trip to Delhi both in terms of time and money).  My tickets were another issue of concern.  I decided to fly via Chennai at the last moment so I could reach Colombo early.  Travelling from Bangalore would’ve meant I’d reach my hotel past midnight.  And, I wasn’t able to fit into any of my suits (all of them were from a time when I knew what fitness was).  On top of all this I developed a frozen shoulder.  My friends even advised me not to carry (my rather bulky DSLR) camera.  I didn't see a doctor as I didn't want to be on medication.

My flights (Bangalore-Chennai-Colombo) were eventless.  Short-haul international flights offer just beer (only if you ask, that too) and a bad snack (potato puff).  And, Chennai airport possibly is the worst of all the airports I’ve seen so far.  I arrived in Colombo ahead of time, breezed through the immigration people and walked into a car that was waiting for me.

In about an hour (exceeding expectations and warnings from my Sri Lankan friends) I reached the Cinnamon Grand, the venue of the Summit and also the hotel I was staying.  A sprawling hotel complex with its own multilevel shopping mall and apartment blocks. I had arrived.