Will the real blood-suckers please stand up?

Some guys have all the luck. Some guys have all the pain. Some guys get all the breaks. Some guys do nothing but complain… the immortal words of Jeff Fortgang resonate in my wondering mind. To be or not to be, the Bard sums up the mood of the islanders, excepting, of course, the guys with all the luck.

People pray to their gods more earnestly than ever; toil as laboriously as they can. Bounty is greater than ever, but the cost, literally and spiritually, has never been higher. The proverbial rat race continues unabated but the rats have been dislodged by mad dogs. Some pretty nasty ones at that.

I am looking for the doltish moppet who once said that only the fittest will survive. No matter how ‘fit’ you may be and how hard you fight, without some luck, from the gods above or elsewhere, you are doomed for good. Most of us mercifully will not quit, though, for our biggest battle is to prepare the next generation for their own battles and as we do, we pray for luck.

I’m on a repulsive mind trip and you already knew that. We wake up every morning to a society domineered by blood suckers and scavengers. The business world is now the hell on earth. Unless you become like them you have no chance in hell.

Russel Gunesekera ran a fortuitous trading agency for 20 years. In an era of ruthlessness he then ran out of luck. Now in his mid-fifties with a lifetime’s hard work done for, Gunesekera left the city, vowing never to return. He retired to his ancestral estate somewhere in Anuradhapura.

Society is laced with unceasing heartbreakers. Everyone you speak to has their own story. What is really ironic is that there are just ‘victims’ and no ‘bad guys’ among us, even though the cocktail circuit abounds with them. What is happening outside the business world is even more bizarre. Today you just can’t trust anybody.

This week, a 17-year-old girl filed a case in the Fort Magistrate Court against her ‘boyfriend’. As for the defendant, he only held the hand of his long-time girlfriend. The complainant alleges sexual harassment. We will have to wait for the learned Magistrate’s verdict as the case is postponed.

Just heard of plans to widen the road to World’s End; judging by the way things are free-falling, authorities expect greater traffic on this road. The route to Horton Plains from Blackpool has been in a state of despair.

The radio jockeys on morning drive time have been proclaiming a ‘no-driving’ day, urging people to ride their bicycles to work. Insiders say that the Government may have a hand in the idea, as the impending economic doom could compel many people to shift from cars to bicycles. The ruling types get blamed for all our woes. Their ‘fringe’ benefits are no match for the load they carry. Let me know if anybody sees Dr. Doom on a bike.

Met Mihira Wickramarachchi, the renowned optician and a man of many facets. His sense of humor veils his uncanny business acumen. His business card doubles up as an eye test. If you find the lettering too small to read, as I found out, he gently suggests a meeting with his opticians.

Hopefully I’ll be in a better mood next week. For now I’ll go complain a bit more.



(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].)