I have been called names for not updating frequently enough to satisfy those craving for the mythical village life! If only you knew the reality. That’s why the blog is called Dream into Reality. It is just that the Dream did not turn out to be real! Since the last entry, I had a sword, yes a sword as in the ancient style pulled on me; A real “kaduwa” (sword) threatening me with being chopped into pieces.I did not realize that such things existed in the modern day! Actually I was not really worried then or now, having looked at the incident in hindsight. Did I call his bluff or was I just not phased when it was pulled, so as to put him off balance I don’t know what?
So much for that as I do not want to regurgitate the incident in detail, but thankfully there were witnesses to the incident, and knowing the village I can just imagine the stories that must be told, as people are prone to exaggeration and multiplication, just to make it sound more juicy than it really was. To some I could be the hero not giving into the village bully to others I may be the villain from outside come to bully the macho guy with promises that vanish. No matter, I live to tell the tale and the inveterate readers know this is not the first escapade I have had to face in this journey.
The more real worry to me was when I was returning from Polonnaruwa, late on a Sunday evening (Nov 8th), my now rickety ( 5 year Tata with 150K km) cab just clapped out in the middle of the road right in the heart of the Kurunegala town. What was I to do with the clutch gone and not being able to change gears and not move with traffic trying to pass me by on both sides? I was eventually able to get it to the side with much difficulty in the pouring rain, and after an overnight stay to have it towed to a garage close by that specialized in clutch work to have it repaired. Thankfully as it was the heart of Kurunegala, there were motor spare retailers, where I was able to purchase a new clutch to replace the one that had broken to bits. The amazing revelation was the garage. No awning, all in the open with no hoists, just a bunch of guys about 10 beavering under the vehicles, and only they could get under the vehicles on the stony ground, as they were thin and scrawny, no fat American mechanic would be able to slide easily into place let alone get under without his belly getting stuck!
It makes you proud of being Sri Lankan to see how this acrobatic act of removing the underside differential just with hands and spanners and replacing the clutch was done. All this before the inevitable rain shower that was expected shortly which would have just left a torrent of water, mud and all, come down the hill into the quad flushing the mechanics, spanners and all.
