Short Story: Celluloid Visions

By Koom Kankesan -August 31, 2012

Koom Kankesan

Rajapaksa was mad and he wasn’t going to take it any more. He was sick of all the people, his people, who questioned his government’s decisions. He was sick of the journalists who wagged their censorious fingers at him. He was sick of his own family who embarrassed him. Didn’t they know what he was trying to do out here? You try to do something great and nobody appreciates it. He was staying near the port in Hambantota for the weekend. The traffic in the port functioned beautifully and on a clear day, you could almost see straight to Madagascar.

He sat up in bed now, late at night, with the brand new 10G laptop and mobile internet stick, a small gift from the powers that be in China. He waslooking for Youtube clips of the Sri Lankan team at the London Olympics. What he found was footage of British Tamils protesting, waving their cursed red flag with the stupid face of their tiger on it. What, are the doughnut shops closed? Don’t you have anywhere to go? Rajapaksa thought irritably to himself. ‘What do we want? Justice! What do we want? Justice!’ chanted the Tamils again and again, reminding Rajapaksa of his futile time at the hotel in London. “This isn’t a Sai Baba bajan, you fools!”he muttered aloud, “think of something original to say!”

The large frame of his wife turned slowly and spoke with a croaking voice, “Go to sleep Mahinda, it’s late… put that thing away.”

“Don’t tell me what to do, Miss Lanka ’73” muttered Rajapaksa and shook off her cloying arm.

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