Selections from Life on Three Wheels / මාවතේ ත්රීවිල් ජීවිතේ
28 MONDAY
“Niccolo Machiavelli was an ass-kissing sleazeball. Fucks like Vasu have forgotten all about Karl Marx now. We did politics with Weerawansa, Dullas and Marshal back then. Better drink yourself to death than get drunk with power.” A weird beardo got into the three-wheeler reeking of alcohol.
“Where do you work sir?” I asked.
“Only sales reps call strangers sir. The comrade is a vanguard of the proletariat. I give palm readings on the pavement these days.”
Revolutionary salute.
FRIDAY
Upul Sanjeewa from our three wheel park got married. I was the cameraman. I clicked a photo of them holding a brass tray with betel leaves as a wedding custom.
“He married a daughter-in-law of Ranji ayya from the Marandagahamula paddy market.” Talk flows as the party gets tipsy. An auto dealer says someone in arrears all over the country has started a car sale in his own village.
Paddy stinks like putrid water. It seems this town of rice mills has surrendered to an army of mosquitoes. The burning sawdust makes the entire area sick with respiratory illness. Everyone is coughing.
The couple bid their farewells in the middle of the party. The mountain of sawdust ash sleeps amidst moonlight. I see this mountain as a demon of death waiting to prey on children. Many people who earned their plate of rice by drying paddy now dry coir for a living. I hear two new bars opened up. Now, people who find their rice dry don’t need to stay dry anymore. Sanjeewa, come back to Dunagaha safely. Marandagahamula is deadly to little tots.
