Indran Amirthanayagam: Old School

Well alright, I won’t visit the island any time soon.

I have lost the terrorist thread. I don’t know how

to sport a backpack stuffed with ball bearings. But

 

the government engages righly in wooing visitors

back, reducing landing fees, excusing the pesky

need for a visa in advance (except for Chinese

 

and Indians, which seems counter-intuitive

given investments by the aforementioned nations

in their ongoing tussle for hearts and minds)

 

But I am getting distracted. The government

impresses me with its desire to dream again

of being number one in Travel and Leisure,

 

the place to go in the New York Times.

As a good Ceylonese of the old school

I will make my tea and buy seeni sambol

 

from the local Sri Lankan grocer. I live

in a diverse metropolitan area close

to a powerful capital. Seeni sambol and date

 

chutney are available here. I can order

string hoppers from local Lankans who turn

their kitchens into profit. So no harm done.

 

I remain unable to sport terrorist thoughts.

I am a Ceylonese of the old school, where

race was an unpleasant subject not discussed.

 

Give me a statue in front of the old parliament.

And the right of return, as well. After all

we have signed the most important UN charters.

 

We believe in non alignment and ploughshares.