Royalty on 3-wheels!

We live in an age where you have to ask a vendor twice, a friend trice, spouse six times, and children a dozen before anything ever gets done. Add peers, subordinates and politicians to the list and you’d wonder if anybody ever listens to you. You don’t even listen to your own self, right?

Then it struck me. There’s one infallible hireling who’s at your command in a flash, rain or shine. He’ll break every rule, put his life on the line and walk the wire, just to be at your service. Hail the 3-wheel driver!

I didn’t have time to put my raised hand down; he’s done a U-turn smack in the middle of a one way and greeted me with a peppy smile. What I saw floored me. Clad in pure white national dress festooned with a red satakaya was honourable Basil Rajapaksa. His charming visage lit up the night as he announced that tonight the ride would be free. At once I touched my forehead for signs of delirious fever. Nothing amiss there I checked if the good Minister was feeling alright, before bundling myself into the back seat.

To dispel my heebie-jeebies he explained how he took one for a spin at a ceremony held to grant 3-wheelers to unemployed youth. He said he liked it so much he rode on. The unflinching statesperson thought he’d feel the pulse of the people just the same way a noble king did in disguise. He, however, forgot to leave his satakaya behind.

He was in his elements as he sneaked through traffic. Traffic? It seemed strange. He hasn’t been in a jam in years. I told him how mangled roads get paved and traffic disappears at the sight of his convoy. He asked how I was and before I could say CJ he scampered into a filling station, just as any seasoned 3-wheeler chappie would do. At the same moment a truck load of people came to a bone-jarring stop right behind us. A dozen or so zealots sporting fairly large breadbaskets jostled to get into the 3-wheeler. I heard one saying that they had been looking for him all day long.

Since there was no longer room in the band wagon I thanked the Minister profusely and walked. I thought to myself how those in the limelight delight in amaranthine fanfare. Limelight was actually invented in 1825 and used in lighthouses and theatres by burning a cylinder of lime which produced a brilliant light. A performer in the limelight in a theatre was the centre of attraction.

The next day I told my secretary of my shenanigan the night before. She said that she could believe the Minister driving a 3-wheeler but not me riding in one. That pretty much debunked my whole story.

Lunch with K. Dharmasena, erudite Commissioner of Inland Revenue, wasn’t at all a taxing affair. In fact, it turned out to be quite a revelation. He said that only 13% of the GDP constitutes taxes when the reading should be at least 18%. Despite the country being now classified as a middle-income earning economy, the number of tax payers hasn’t shown a comparative increase.

He said that the Government was striving to make the department more people-friendly and encourage more tax payers. I told him that I duly pay my taxes but taxmen were still out to flog me. He promised to ask his men to smile before they do that next time.

I have a badly roughed up knee. If anyone sees Dr. White put a shout!

(Dinesh Watawana is a former foreign correspondent and military analyst. He is a brand consultant and heads The 7th Frontier, an integrated communications agency which masterminded the globally-acclaimed eco tourism hotspot KumbukRiver. Email him at [email protected].)