08 August 2010

My version of the story

Either you are old enough to remember the story or too young too know who he is .

Of the Sri Lankan business magnate who get’s on his private jet from an east asian country , crashes in the Andaman sea and disappears forever.

 Either you believe the story as it was boiled down to , as an unfortunate incident .
Or  all the conspiracy theories published in news papers , found it's way through gossip and hovered in the air  reside in a corner of your mind. Permanently occupying some of your grey cells . triggering connections of many things , most things,  that happen around you.

Life is such. You believe what you want . And never believe what you don’t want to.

In this small dingy kiosk , barber shop , he is offering me the premium package .
A hair cut , a proper shave and a head massage with Bay rum, for 30 rupees. An offer hard to refuse . 
And  sitting in the worn out barber chair at Rathnam barbers’  , I pop the question at him .
He is Rathnam , the propriter , sole barber, and a man with a secret.
The mention of the very name startle him , and causes a small knick behind my ear .
“ Very rarely does a gentleman change his barber or the tailor , they say “
I deliver the first delivery a little outside the off stump.
“I guess so sir, “  an uncommitted stroke is offered.
I notice the old Unic radio on the table .And also the half open  razor edge at grasping close range .

“Some say he now hides away somewhere in Nuwaraeliya “
“Not so sure sir, He could be alive or may be he is dead”.

The  cobbler at the end of the pavement is supposed to be the eyes and the ears of the town .  even the Police is supposed  consult him for information. The mention of the name pitches short to  attract his attention , but the placing of the 500 rupee notes among the old shoes and threatening of a different nature, does.
“He used to live here for a long time , but not sure what happened “
“He lived with a servant boy with one eye , and every evening sang  que sera sera “
“Now he is dead?”
“ Yes , the tigers found him and killed him again “

Killed him again. Ironic isn’t it .

Just in front of the Saraswathi hotel , where the aroma  of fresh vades , the sounds of tamil tunes  try to subdue the shock of bright yellow , green , pink table clothes , a man is playing a keyboard.

The Tune is Que Sera Sera.

And I’ll be dammend , the man has only one eye.

Either you believe this
or not.

Actually the Barber charged me  30 rupees and trimmed my hair. The Cobbler was a simple man who spoke only inTamil. The musician is blind and plays some unrecognizable tune.

 As for the Great Sri Lankan entrepreneur , well for what I know , his plane crashed and the body was never found.

But don’t you like my version? 

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