Illegal Signatures and School Days

I'm good at forging signatures. I probably shouldn't divulge potentially harmful information such as this, but I trust you fellows not to let my secret out. I know you lot is a good bunch. Anyway, I'm quite good at it, and usually withing 20 to 30 minutes I can reproduce one good enough for petty crimes - the ones that are more or less harmless - of others. I often struggle to reproduce Sinhala signatures though - they are too complicated - and that is perhaps one reason among many why I sign in Sinhala. Not that anybody will ever think mine is worth reproducing, but still. English ones are a different matter though - I only have to keep practising the curves, and eventually I get it. The key is finding out where the lines start and where they end. Because it is near impossible to do a perfect impression starting a line from a different position to that of the original. If you study people's handwriting you will see that though they are vastly different and unique, they all carry some very common characteristics too. For instance, take the block letter F. There are three main ways in which someone would write it; one - draw the two horizontal lines from left to right, then the vertical line, usually from top to bottom. Two - draw the vertical first, then the horizontal lines. Three - draw the top horizontal line, then the vertical and at last the lower horizontal line. Almost all the time people write lines from left to right and top to bottom. Of course there are exceptions but generally above mentioned are the three ways in which F is written. So, if you can look at the handwriting and find out start and end points, then the rest is only a matter of practising the curves.

So, this skill of mine came in very handy while at school. I'm not sure if it still is the case, but back then if you were absent you were supposed to bring a latter from your parents the next day, stating the reason why you were absent. But of course there arise the need of being absent without your parents knowing due to a variety of very important reasons ranging from going out on a date (for the lack of a better term) with your girlfriend, going to the latest movie or just because you felt like. But there is a better chance of government media in paradise being unbiased than your parents writing a letter for something like that, so we had to do it for ourselves. And I was the go-to man when they needed to get it signed.

So one day, a Tuesday morning as I can remember, this dude comes to me early in the morning.

"Machan, sign this quickly please, I was absent yesterday"

I never ask many questions, so I just signed it and away went the happy fella to show it to one of the discipline masters before the school starts. He (the discipline master) read the letter and was like;

"Oh, your grandmother passed away? I'm sorry son, please accept my condolences. But is one day enough?"

"Uh... yes sir, she passed away on Saturday, so we had the funeral yesterday. So it's alright. Thank you sir"

Now, our school had a 'College Diary' in which you have all the pre-planned school activities were listed on the left hand side pages while the right hand side pages were blank. We were supposed to write all these letter on it - no letters on pieces of paper were accepted for any reason whatsoever - and that day too the letter was written on this diary of my friend. So, the discipline master casually turns the pages for no reason and finds out that the grandmother in question had died not once, but thrice.

We heard that the discipline master, who was a man with a good sense of humor, had a good laugh before punishing the poor dude. Oh and he too must be credited since he never said a word as to who actually signed it because had the word got out I would have been in deep shit because my father, at that time, was the assistant discipline master.

Nostalgia

I grew up in a time when things, by which I mean life, wasn't as convenient, fast, high-tech and crazy as today. It was more like sedate, slow and hard but to compensate for all that, it was beautiful. It was nice. Everything had it's own pace, and we moved along enjoying life and the simple pleasures it brought.

When I was a kid, I enjoyed, played with and got to know the world around me. The games we played were real - be it a backyard game of cricket, a simple hide-and-seek or kite flying when it was the season. They were fun, challenging and taught us a thing or two about life. Backyard cricket isn't as easy as you'd think; to not shatter neighbor's windows which is essential in ensuring future cricket, rules had to be imposed saying anyone who hits it to a wall on either side of the wicket will be out. Even when playing on the road it was the same; on one side there was the river and on the other there were bushes - hit it straight or be gone was the order of the day. We became so good at hitting it straight, our straight drives would have put Sachin Tendulkar into shame. It was challenging yet fun. So was hide-and-seek though it wasn't the normal hide-and-seek you'd think of. The unfortunate souls who get caught will be tied to the nearest tree, and will have to remain be tied until a team-mate comes to the rescue. Often, though, when we were called back for lunch or tea, we'd go back leaving the tied be tied - intentionally or just because we forgot. Yet screaming for help was no option since our pride was at stake - sometimes we'd stay tied for hours trying to cut ourselves loose. If you managed that, you get the hero status and something to boast about for the whole eternity. Which is about two weeks. Otherwise, usually the mother of the one who's tied will come untie him while cursing us, and a good old ass whipping for the poor dude will follow making the whole thing hilarious. Kite flying was fun too; the whole process of making one is an art of it's own and you had to know little tips and whatnot to be a master of the art. But finishing one, making it fly, keeping it there, it was all wonderful memories. We knew the world around us; we had time, we had space. Wonder how many kids today know how to fly one let alone make. Forget kites, many fifteen year olds today don't know how to hold a bat and the only places that remain today the kids can play hide-and-seek are the two bedrooms in their houses.

Then, when we were a bit older, still the world was different. Cell phones were only heard of - even home phones were the exception, not the norm. Telephone was expensive and it was for emergency, not for casual chit chat. It was funny that you had to wait until there were certain number of applicants in an area to get a land line even. Otherwise it was too costly for SLT to provide a phone connection. So it wasn't easy, but we were still... OK. No last minute cancellations of appointments - if you said you would come, you would come. Only the 'important' people owned a cell-phone, for which the popular term was Celltell, and as kids or young ones you were not trusted to even touch them. Rich and poshy uncles and aunts would flash their half a kilo bricks in parties and family gatherings showing off their 'class'. We would watch in awe. It was also a good time to have a girlfriend; you didn't have a few thousands of rupees worth monthly mobile bill to worry of, no late night texting, and you'd have to wait with patience to see your princess the next week. Inconvenient, but romantic. Anticipation is a wonderful thing.

We weren't caught up in the rat race that is education. Until I finished my Ordinary Levels, I only attended two tuition classes and that too was not because it was necessary - just for fun, rather. School education was quite enough and that left us with ample time to sit back and enjoy our lives. To do other things - hang out with friends, play, go fishing or go after a chick you fancy. Moms didn't want us to get better grades than our neighbor's son, when we were still in grade five. Saturdays and Sundays were actually free, believe it or not. School holidays were that; holidays. As opposed to 9 to 5 tuition classes you have on holidays today. Sad, what it has come to.

Everything wasn't at your fingertips as today, but it was OK. Information was hard to come by, so it made whatever you get worth it. If you wanted to know Vivian Richards' Test average, you had to look for it. Maybe in old newspapers, sports magazines or as a last resort you could consult the next door neighbor cricket crazy uncle. He will most probably tell you the stat, but along with dozen stories like how he listened to it on the radio when Sobers made that epic 365. If you wanted to know the meaning of scaturient, acromonogrammatic, necromorphous, dolichofacial or unguinous, you had to look it up a dictionary. Or an encyclopedia which consisted of about forty volumes that weigh 72 kilograms in total, which could only be found in a library. Learning was slow, but you remembered what you learnt. Mail were actually something you sent using postal services and you needed stamps. You had to go to the theatre, or to the nearest video rental shop to rent a VHS if you wanted to watch a movie. And you had to rewind it to the beginning too, before watching. Being pals with the dude in the best video rental shop in town came with many advantages. You are the dude friends come to, then, when they want to know about the latest movie released four months ago. Music was something you listened to on radio, and you had a collection of only the favorite songs recorded on cassette tapes, each of which had 16 songs maximum. Friends were people actually you knew, and 'poking' every one of them would come with serious consequences. We learned to appreciate what we had. In short, life wasn't easy but it was wonderful, relaxing and..... humane.

And then came computers.

Longing for Paradise

My relationship with the paradise is a love-hate relationship of sorts. OK make it lovelove-hate because my love for it far outweighs the hatred. If there is any. But the point is, as much as I love it sometime I get fed up with the things there, how things work - or how they don't work, to be more precise - and countless elements that are so ready to piss you off. It's dirty, life is not easy and things never work the way you think they will over there. But one thing you can't accuse it of is life being uneventful.

Take Japan instead.

Things are so nice and orderly. Everything works the way they are supposed to work. Trains come and go on time. There are no sudden breakdowns of electricity. The place is clean - no dust, no mud. People are nice to you, it rains when the weather forecast tells you it will rain and you can order everything online. In short, life's so easy over here. But it sucks in adventure element. I can pretty much tell you how my year is going to turn out in 2010; it'll be the same monotonous crap until the end of March. Then the spring will come, and with it flowers and nice weather. I'll happily trot around with my camera in hand, and the FB profile will have a couple of new albums afterwards. Will follow that with about a week long holiday in May, we'll arrange a BBQ with friends and a lot more sleep. Then nothing of interest until August where I'll get Summer holidays. Off to somewhere, hopefully, for a week or two and then back at work in no time. Cricket would have begun, but that's about the only thing I'd have left with for the whole summer. Come the Autumn, there will be Autumn leaves (obvious, isn't it?) and another photo album. Then back to goddamn winter and hopefully a trip back home in December. That's about it, and it will work out exactly the way I have said here.

But this would have been a whole lot different if I were in Paradise. There are no seasons of course, but say, the rainy season could very well start with a three month draught and a power cut. There will be no power most of the time and candle lit dinner table (not for romantic reasons, obviously) conversations will be full of dissing the government. Meanwhile there will be a couple of strikes and a protest ending few people getting killed. By the police. Leaving us with ample things to talk about. And the planned trip to Galle will have to be cancelled because the hired van guy had some other last minute arrangements, but it will happen two months later on a Saturday after discussing it over booze on Friday night. Probably by bus or better yet, train, which will be delayed and cause the two day trip to be a three day one. Meanwhile, my laptop will break down but there will be no place to get it repaired. However, few calls to friends will end up with me and one of the said friends taking it apart and fixing it without a cent being spent as opposed to 10K you'd have to spend in Japan. I will go to university grounds every other weekend and play touch rugby with some known but mostly unknown people, and will make new friends. Booze with friend will be lot more fun, and sometimes will have to walk 10 miles because you missed the last bus and there is no cash in hand for a tuk-tuk. Parties will actually be fun, and there will be Baila tunes to dance to. And the food; OK, I stop there.

Yes, I'm seriously homesick all of a sudden.

Yoohoo!!!

I'm in the Paradise Island, which means I'm not at work, which in turn means I should not blog. So, wait till I get back to work will you?

Later...

I'm so glad...

... that finally it's over.

At this hour rumors are flying everywhere and the speculation is ripe that finally VP is dead. I honestly do not know what to believe, but it seems that it is fairly reasonable to conclude he is indeed no more. Well I hope so. I'm not really awed about all this, for death brings no joy. It doesn't. But, I do admit that I am relieved.

There are certain individuals throughout the history who's death always brought a sigh of relief, if not joy, to people. Be it Hitler, Idi Amin or any other mass murderer. I don't know about the world, but now at least most of the Sri Lankans breathe a sigh of release at the death of a man who terrorized us for a quarter century with some of the most brutal acts the world has ever seen. The fact that the number of suicide attacks happened in Sri Lanka during this time is greater than all the other such attacks in the rest of the world put together, says something. We have endured the epitome of terrorism for goddamn twenty five years. We want no more.

But, this is anything but the end. In fact, only just now that begins the hardest part. It is far easier to pick up a gun and kill people and gain a piece of land than gaining the trust of people who have been mistreated and discriminated against once upon a time. Such wounds doesn't heal easily. But we must try, for this victory would mean nothing otherwise. As a nation it is time to put all our differences behind and help these people - they are our people - to live a better life. We must give them hope, and show them that we can all live in harmony in this heaven on earth.

Only then, will calling this land a paradise be truly meaningful.