From Colombo with Love

Lost in Colombo

by Tariq Bhatti

Simple observations of a first-time visitor to Sri Lanka who is forced to make comparisons with Pakistan every time he sees something nice

In the wee hours of March 25, the aircraft landed on Shiva Jee International airport, Mumbai, for stop over before flying to Colombo. Passengers bound for India disembarked. As we fastened our seat belts for take off, the captain announced "Colombo airport has been closed for operations for an indefinite period of time. We apologise for the delay. Please remain seated and wait for the next announcement."

It was dreadful. We had no clue of what had gone wrong. After a frustrating hour came another announcement. "Passengers can dismount and get transit cards to go to the Mumbai airport." This was better. Now we could take a glance at Mumbai.

Only a few of the passengers had gotten their transit entry cards when security personnel appeared and asked the passengers to board the plane. They told us that Colombo airport was operational. We had lost the opportunity of getting a taste of Mumbai.

When we reached, Colombo was bathing in pleasant, warm sunshine and did not betray what it had been through a few hours earlier. "The Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam guerrillas dropped bombs on the Lankan airbase, around midnight." told Rajindhra, our host. "Our Air Force could not intercept them. They bombed and flew back safely."

As we drove out of the airport, we noticed that roads in Colombo are cleaner than most roads in big cities back home. There is a general respect for pedestrians. Drivers stop, if they have to make use of mobile phones. Texting is of course out of the question.

Predominant women presence in the public sphere, the roads and the streets, was also noticed with pleasant surprise. Seven days of interaction with people of various backgrounds reaffirmed the observation that women in Ceylon are more empowered than their counterparts in other South Asian countries.

Motorcyclists wear helmets in Sri Lanka. Interestingly, in case of pillion riding -- be it woman or man, girl or boy -- both wear helmet on their heads. At a few places one could see the familiar sight of garbage piled on the roadside, probably waiting for the city development authority staff. The appearance of people is simple. If someone wears slippers to formal meetings; it is not deemed casual.

Young couples, intimately embracing each other, was another common sight -- without inviting curious glances or censure.
The railway network was a lot more more effective than ours but just like us most of the trains were thronged beyond capacity. Government-owned buses still provide commuting facilities to the citizens.

The rickshaws (Tuk Tuk) in Colombo do not make the deafening noise as those in Lahore, Faisalabad and other big cities and were environment-friendly even otherwise.

Cigarettes are more expensive than beer and whisky. Rice is the staple food. The traditional way of eating rice mixed with various vegetables or fish curry does not involve use of spoons. Tourists from across the world with overwhelming majority from Western countries were seen having fun on the beaches and bars.

Shopping centers in Colombo were running their day and night shifts as their New Year celebrations start in the second week of April. Fixed price garments shops had long queues in front of them.

It was a surprise to see more churches, statues of Christ and Mary than Buddhist temples in the city of Negombo, one hour north of Colombo. 'The Christian symbols dominate the landscape in all coastal cities. "The early Portuguese, Dutch and British sailors along with their missionaries set their foot on the coastal towns," told a professor of economics in Colombo University. He also explained that most of the fishing communities are descendents of earlier converts to Christianity. Buddhism forbids killing of living beings; hence fishing was neither a sport nor a livelihood in the pre-Christian era. Proselytising Christians accompanying raiding parties brought this 'light' into 'the heart of darkness'.

When I was about to check out of the hotel for the journey back home, I had mixed feelings of attachment and gloom and how fleeting and transitory they are. Then words of Hema, 82, a journalist cum artist came to my rescue. She had said: "Till we breath, we can enjoy, relate and celebrate but can not possess. The moment we become possessive, dukhha (sorrow) takes over".
I regained the gaiety and became as light as one of the characters in Saadat Hassan Manto's short stories, who keeps all his belongings in one bag. Whenever he is exiled, he picks up his bag and moves to new places with no sense of loss.

http://www.jang.com.pk/thenews/apr2007-weekly/nos-22-04-2007/foo.htm#3 a link of article published in the news on sunday