Doing a Sanga…

Kumar Sangakkara is someone I’ve always looked up to – not just because he’s a Trinitian but for his exemplary conduct both on field and off. (I like to think that Trinity had a hand in that – but I digress.) Understandably with the claim to fame comes the opportunity for endorsements and Sanga has been seen promoting a wide variety of products from diamond jewelery and motorbikes to soft drinks and malted milk. He was also an ambassador for Hutch Telecom and so I received quite the shock when I switched on the telly to find him advertising the new player in the local mobile scene AirTel. The upshot of it being the tagline “Mang AirTel walata maaru unaa – aeka kochchara simple plan ekakda…” (I switched to AirTel – it’s such a simple plan…)

This left rather a bad taste in my mouth because to me it somehow didn’t seem ethical to switch endorsements to a competitor just like that. Of course I thought it was just me.  And then I received these two emails.

It’s a pity…

More than just a show…

From the Thrithva Ranga 2008 souvenir;

It’s that time of the year when crowds throng the College Hall to see Trinity’s finest take the stage in a dazzling spectacle of lights, music, dance, drama, smoke, and lasers punctuated by the trademark double entendres. The parents come curious to find out what their sons’ late nights over the past months have been in aid of, the lasses come dressed to the nines to catch a glimpse of their beaus (and occasionally discover that they look good even in drag!) and the juniors come to get a little of their own back from the relative safety of the darkened balconies.

Any Trinitian who has been privileged to sport the Red Gold and Navy tie will bear witness that the years spent in the cop room were the most memorable years of his life. At the mention of the words “Thrithva Ranga” the said Trinitian may be observed going misty eyed with nostalgia. For the days leading up to Thrithva Ranga are the best days of those best years. Thrithva Ranga is much more than an evening of fun and laughter. It is the highlight of a School Officer’s tenure – one which will remain etched in memory long after the last bell has called. The uninitiated might call Thrithva Ranga just another show – but that would be akin to calling the Concorde just another aircraft.

From the minute that the first plans are laid, under the watchful gaze of the Beatles and the Bee Gees, up until the curtain falls on the big day, Thrithva Ranga is a veritable whirlwind of practices, hunting for sponsors, proof reading souvenir drafts, writing letters by the sack load, late night poster patrol, and plenty of boyish mischief – all powered by a well balanced diet of kottu and light tea from Kumar’s (enriched with essential condiments, vitamins and minerals!). Thrithva Ranga is more than just a show – it is an experience which teaches those fortunate few a multitude of lessons that can never be learnt in a classroom or anywhere else. A distinguished old boy Mr. Deryck Aluwihare could not have spoken a truer word when he declared “A Trinity education is what a Trinitian learns at Trinity when he’s not attending class.” Being behind the wheel of a Thrithva Ranga is a lesson in collective responsibility, mutual respect, accountability, team spirit and how to cope with demanding situations. The pressure is intense and the sleepless nights are many. The arguments put presidential debates to shame and the sparks fly like a welder’s blowtorch. You learn the difference between a par can and a scanner and that “the amount of paappa on a school officer’s shirt is inversely proportional to the number of posters pasted.”  And when an eighteen year old spends more time on the phone chatting to the printers than he does to his girlfriend, then you can rest assured that Thrithva Ranga is around the corner.

Thrithva Ranga is far more than the sum of its parts – it is the ultimate embodiment of the spirit of the room under the stairs. As the curtain falls on tonight’s show, there’ll be many a Trinitian who would gladly give his eyeteeth to stand once more on that platform and hear the College song reverberate in glorious baritone. Alas that opportunity comes but once. I wish the School Officers of 2008 all success and hope they have the time of their lives. I know I did.

Respice Finem.

J.W

Good times those…

10 Random Things That Make Me Happy

Dinidu (of Barista fame) tagged me on this viral post thing and so here’s my two cents worth (albeit long overdue!! )

• Being at home

• Getting car brochures in the mail

• Cooking

• My (sister’s) dogs

• Kottu – the kind you eat!

• Driving

• Sleeping late

• Old British Comedies – ‘Allo ‘Allo, Black Adder, Fawlty Towers etc.

• Friends

• Music

And I tag Haren and Prageeth. There. All done!!

Tackling Traffic – OFF SIDE!!

Yesterday’s Sunday Times carried an article – Tackling Traffic – which dealt with the National Transport Commission’s proposals to reduce fuel consumption.

Hilarious.

This country allows the import of gas guzzling 6, 8 and even 12 pot vehicles when most of the time a run-of-the-mill 1500cc Japanese saloon can’t get past 4^th gear – and then proposes a 4 day working week to cut down on fuel consumption!! There are Hummers, Ferraris and Aston Martins here for crying out loud – Not to mention the countless V6 Monteros and Prados and V8 Cygnuses – and the smart alecks at the NTC propose car pools for office workers!!

Our roads aren’t built for speed – so why on earth keep importing cars and sports utes with such massive power plants?

As Jeff Dunham’s Walter would say : Dumb Asses!!

Californication

No. This post is not about the Red Hot Chili Peppers – but something just as hot. Well at least on paper. When a Top Gear newsletter landed in my inbox the other day – I almost fell off my chair. What am I on about? None other than the newest offering from the motoring maestros of Modena – the latest to proudly sport the Prancing Horse badge – Ladies and Gentlemen…..(drum roll please) The Ferrari California. My initial reaction was one of shock – because a hardtop convertible Ferrari is only slightly less unexpected than an amphibious Airbus. And yes you did read it right – a metal drop-top Fezza.

The California is Ferrari’s fourth model in the current line up – an all-aluminum two-seater slotted as a mini Grand Tourer parallel or just above the much loved F430. The car is a departure from Ferrari’s traditional thinking in that the designers have made a marked attempt to produce a luxurious everyday supercar – in stark contrast to the usual focus on speed and handling alone.

The car also marks a number of firsts for the Italian manufacturer. In addition to being the first folding metal hardtop, it is also the first to feature a front engined V8, direct petrol injection, dual clutch transmission and multi-link suspension. At the heart of the California lies the same 4.3 litre V8 that powers F430, producing 460BHP at 7500RPM and is expected to propel the car from 0-62MPH in under four seconds. Bringing the car to a halt is a process effortlessly executed courtesy of the standard carbon brakes while the 599 Fiorano’s brilliant traction control system is also onboard.

Whilst the new Fezza remains true to its roots under the hood, it does leave much to be desired in the looks department. The swept back head lamps are reminiscent of the Toyota MR2 while wee hints of Lexus and Peugeot are also visible. Unfortunately the Prancing Horse badge alone is most often insufficient to give this car the Ferrari touch. That said however the rear detailing deserves mention with the rear lamps and quad exhaust complementing each other beautifully.

Despite being a mixed bag and the subject of a plethora of polarized opinions and speculations on internet automobile forums, the California remains a desirable car. How will the Ferraristi respond to the unabashedly American name? That (as the undertaker said when the bottom fell out of the coffin) remains to be seen…

Specs : Top Gear

Memories

While talking to a friend the other day, in passing he mentioned something about College that got me thinking. Needless to say it opened the floodgates and for days after that I couldn’t help but reminisce about the good times we had in school. I suppose it’s a phase which everyone goes through but in this instance it got me thinking so long and hard about how much I miss College that I thought I ought to preserve these memories of all the mischief, antics, fights, arguments, victories, defeats, romances and not least all the canings. If nothing else, a few years down the line I’d be able to read through these and have a good laugh. And hence in no particular order – chronological, topical, spatial, causal or otherwise – shall follow the  the memories of Trinity (1993-2006) through the mind’s eye of yours truly.

Respice Finem.

Midnight Ramblings

To say the past week has been hectic would be a bleeding understatement. And to cap it all – the damn work still isn’t done. Serves me right for complaining back when I was jobless. (3 months – it seems so long ago!!) So here I am at 12.45 am Kandy Central Time – pulling an all-nighter armed with a thermos of Nescafe and a box of home made marshmellows. I seem to be wired all wrong though – I’m not a coffee person but I always thought caffeine was supposed to keep you awake – I’m feeling so bloody drowsy. Maybe it’s the combination of the marshmellows, coffee and the looped 250+ track playlist…

Anyhow – I’ve got a deadline to meet. So toodle-oo.

Kangaroo Whipped!!!

So…. Ponting and Co. took us to the cleaners. Again. For the third straight time in the series (albeit with a little help from Messers. Duckworth and Lewis.). Which leads me to ask the obvious question – WTF???

What is it that prevents Mahela’s men from kicking some serious kangaroo ass?

I don’t think talent enters the equation at all. It’s a more a question of mentality. No matter how small a total they are defending or how many wickets they’ve lost, the Australians seem to have the ability to come out with all cylinders firing. Perhaps it’s the energizer bunny attitude that makes them the top team in the world. The other aspect of the Australian approach is the fact that all 11 players pull the same weight. They can keep going regardless of who performs (or who doesn’t) on a given day – unlike a certain other team which for some obscure reason, folds like a house of cards if there isn’t a Jayasuriya induced run explosion at the top. Speaking of Jayasuriya – at present it looks like he’s only on the team to provide moral support. Whilst fully acknowledging him as the great player he is, who has made an immense contribution to the game, I fail to see the logic in fielding someone who has been under performing consistently with both bat and ball. True, he may still be the fittest man on the team but I don’t think a specialist fielder is a luxury that any team can afford.

Sri Lanka’s bowling department doesn’t seem to have fazed the opposing teams in the least during the current tournament. The big guns – Murali, Vaas and Malinga haven’t been able to deliver to their full potential. (Although in their defense, the batsmen haven’t exactly provided defendable totals) What is worrying is the fact that even batsmen facing Murali for the first time seem to be able to read him like a book. I’m beginning to wonder if the famed doosra is losing it’s sting. Vaas used to make up for lost pace with consistent swing but that seems to have diminished as well.

Cricket is a funny game and teams and individuals have their lean streaks – but for a team to be on such a consistent losing spree is a cause for concern. I know I’m playing armchair guru but when I crawl out of bed at 6.30 am to watch a match, I expect to see some real cricket, and moreover I like to see Sri Lanka come out on top.

As I tap out this staccato symphony, the Indians have just come to the party – beating us by 7 wickets. Not just “Kangaroo whipped” but now “chapatied” as well.

Maybe the boys in blue should take up some other game. Like marbles for instance.

My Only Vice

All addictions begin with harmless experimentation. Mine was no different. Only in my case it was not fags, booze or drugs. It started with doodling on sheets of exercise paper in grade six. A few kids (me and a few likewise jobless others) with colour pencils drawing those boxy cars to while away the time. The boxy cars soon evolved into fairly accurate sketches (thanks to raiding tracing paper from ammi’s sewing box!) The blocks for the tracings came from various sources – paper ads, the pics in the yellow pages and a couple of old motor mags. But then we discovered that the car importers actually had brochures for every model!!! (Had we known the word at the time, we’d probably yelled “Funkyyyyyy”!!)

I soon lost the drawing kink (wonder where those drawings are – there was a folder with maybe 200+!!!!) but right around that time my aunt was looking for a car and once she finally decided, guess who ended up with the brochures??? I was irreversibly hooked – That was just the beginning and my inspiration. I’d found a way of adding to my collection. I’d walk into a car dealership and tell the sales exec that I was there to collect some brochures because my aunt was looking for a new car. At the prospect of a sale, poor guys bent over backwards to please. This worked out fine until one fine day (aged 13) I walked into a certain agency and asked for the sales department and before I could say Peugeot – found myself face to face with the Director – Marketing… Suffice to say that I came out with a stack of brochures nonetheless.

About a year down the line I decided it was time to step up the game. Together with a buddy who had the same mental disorder, two elaborate “heists” were planned and executed to perfection – over consecutive school holidays. The modus operandi was simple – having cajoled an unsuspecting aunt into letting us have the car and driver, we’d spend a full day going from dealership to dealership with some well spun yarn, collecting “scalps” or an equivalent thereof! (needless to say leaving behind a trail of confused and bemused sales people!)

This worked until the dealers cottoned on that they were being played like a Stradivarius, which is when I had to resort to outsourcing. A few willing friends (Sajjad, Haren, Sajid, Dinidu – thanks!!!!) did the needful for a while and my collection kept growing.

And since of late I’ve moved to international level. Contacting the manufacturers direct via email has resulted in my receiving brochures from Europe, US, Malaysia and Down Under.

I’ve learned the hard way that the “collector” approach doesn’t always work. So I’ve begun the “I’d like more information” approach.. On principle I don’t say I want to buy a car – I merely request for literature. Any conclusions they arrive at is upto them! No doubt there must be numerous sales execs worldwide wondering why they don’t hear from a certain someone in Sri Lanka once the brochures reach their destination!!

And so it continues – my seemingly childlike fascination (bordering on obsession) with automobiles. Any closeted collectors out there – come out of the garage and drop me a line!!

Took my collection off the shelves last week – arrangement courtesy of my lil sis!

Tall Story a.k.a One For The Price Of Two

Had to make a rush trip to Colombo last Wednesday and since there were no train tickets available I was forced to bus it. Now the bus has never been my preferred mode of transportation due largely to the facts…

a.) the roof of an average bus is about 6′ – 6′6″ whilst yours truly is 6′10″. So much for standing.

b.) the seats are placed in such a way that I can only sit in ‘em if I remove my legs store them on the overhead rack…

The only seat then is the middle of the rear bench where the aisle makes for some extra leg room. Hence the only buses I board are the ones in which the said seat is unoccupied. (A fact which, justifiably, would piss off the guys with whom I used to travel when in school!!!)

The ride down to Colombo was fine – no complaints. On the return leg though, I made the mistake of boarding an intercity bus. Now this was one of those large buses with “jump” seats along the aisle. My pet seat being available I made myself comfy and settled down for the 3+ hour drive. 10 minutes after we’d left the Fort bus stand some guy got on the bus and made his way to the back to the bus and tried to unfold the jump seat in front of me. He couldn’t for the simple reason that my knees were in the way. Even if he had, he wouldn’t have been able to sit straight and would have got off in Kandy looking like the hunchback of Notre Dam. So he moved to the next seat down the aisle.

The conductor (ah! what a wonderful breed!), having seen this, made his way to the back and told me rather curtly to move someplace else in order that the jump seat in question maybe used, to which I replied that had I been able to sit elsewhere I wouldn’t have parked where I did in the first place. The sod then declared that the seat had to be used somehow. The prospect of getting off in Dematagoda and looking for another bus was the only thing that prevented me from introducing my fist to his face at high velocity.

The end result was ofcourse that I had to pay for the bloody “jump” seat meaning I paid double fare for the journey. I hope somebody “jumps” the damn conductor. And don’t get me wrong – this is not about the 200 bucks extra, but rather about how money has come to dictate even in such trivial matters.

C.R.E.A.M indeed. Akon and Wu-Tang hit it right on the head!!!