Colombo Confessions is all about having a laugh. I’ve had the misfortune of associating with a wide cross-section of Colombo denizens. This column is a look at the lighter (sometimes) side of Lankans in the capital of Sri Lanka.
Dear Colombites, what a week it has been. After “standing in line” at the eChannelling app, I finally managed to get a spot sorted out for the Sinopharm vaccine and went to stand in line at the MOH at Kirula Road. Despite getting number 75 as my token to stand in line, I managed to get the vaccine sorted out within a mere 20 minutes. Everything went smoothly. What didn’t go so smoothly was the arm wrestling I had to do with some Colombo’s “well-bred” aunties who insisted on jumping the line. A very special few were even demanding they get the vaccine despite not getting their token from the eChannelling app.
I know some of the bridge “aunties” (there are other words that come to mind to describe these hags) have pulled this string and that string and jumped every queue to get vaccinated, because, after all, the rest of us are just peasants, aren’t we? You may remember my column last week about the prolific surgeon’s harridan of a wife and their spoilt Rolex-wearing daughter? Well, the precious calf ended up getting her vaccine via OPD because Daddy dearest is so high and mighty. Spoilt begets spoilt, and I am certain we can expect a great deal of spoilt hideous children running around the place in a generation or two.
Some of the energetic and smart nurses at the vaccination centre were given the task of asking those standing in line whether we would give a blood test to check the antibodies in our system post-vaccine. I readily agreed; after all, desiring the best for the rest of our fellow citizens should not be a matter of contention. Yet one old cow ignored the nurse and jumped ahead of me as I was handing over my details to the poor sweat-drenched nurse. I took a great deal of pleasure in emitting a Cyclops-stare at the old hag, who Covid-19 (in any mutated form) would probably hate to infect.
Unexpectedly, and perhaps fortunately, I encountered only one batakola achchi who was making a hue and cry over the sun beating through her fake wig. Besides dealing with that dysfunctional set of chops, the process of getting vaccinated was a smooth and seamless experience. While I was advised to sit and wait for 20 minutes to see if I experienced any ill effects, I decided I preferred going home instead of dealing with the coterie of Colombo aunties seated and seething with discomfort.
Some organisms are worse than viruses, dear Colombite; remember that. The walk home was blissful and it was great to be out in the open air. The greedy devil in me led me straight to Hyve where I soothed myself with their delightful eclairs. This armed with a nice cup of Nescafé is sure to keep all types of negativity away, at least for a time.
Besides the fact that I had absolutely no ill effects after the vaccine, there is a ray of hope, I thought to myself, as I bit into one luscious eclair after another, and that is how easy the vaccination process was. I love a good gripe against the Government as much as any Sri Lankan, but I have to say kudos to the authorities that sorted out the vaccination process with such ease. A special mention to the nurses and medical staff who did a damn fine job managing the herd of unhappiness that streamed in through without any sense of courtesy or politeness. If there’s any hope in humanity, it would be found behind the masks of those frontline workers who are doing their utmost by everyone.
(Rohitha Perera is a writer, blogger, and content marketer from Colombo, Sri Lanka. He used to be an editor at a lifestyle magazine, and now works in the IT industry)
The views and opinions expressed in this column are those of the author, and do not necessarily reflect those of this publication.
Dear Colombites, what a week it has been. After “standing in line” at the eChannelling app, I finally managed to get a spot sorted out for the Sinopharm vaccine and went to stand in line at the MOH at Kirula Road. Despite getting number 75 as my token to stand in line, I managed to get the vaccine sorted out within a mere 20 minutes. Everything went smoothly. What didn’t go so smoothly was the arm wrestling I had to do with some Colombo’s “well-bred” aunties who insisted on jumping the line. A very special few were even demanding they get the vaccine despite not getting their token from the eChannelling app.
I know some of the bridge “aunties” (there are other words that come to mind to describe these hags) have pulled this string and that string and jumped every queue to get vaccinated, because, after all, the rest of us are just peasants, aren’t we? You may remember my column last week about the prolific surgeon’s harridan of a wife and their spoilt Rolex-wearing daughter? Well, the precious calf ended up getting her vaccine via OPD because Daddy dearest is so high and mighty. Spoilt begets spoilt, and I am certain we can expect a great deal of spoilt hideous children running around the place in a generation or two.
Some of the energetic and smart nurses at the vaccination centre were given the task of asking those standing in line whether we would give a blood test to check the antibodies in our system post-vaccine. I readily agreed; after all, desiring the best for the rest of our fellow citizens should not be a matter of contention. Yet one old cow ignored the nurse and jumped ahead of me as I was handing over my details to the poor sweat-drenched nurse. I took a great deal of pleasure in emitting a Cyclops-stare at the old hag, who Covid-19 (in any mutated form) would probably hate to infect.
Unexpectedly, and perhaps fortunately, I encountered only one batakola achchi who was making a hue and cry over the sun beating through her fake wig. Besides dealing with that dysfunctional set of chops, the process of getting vaccinated was a smooth and seamless experience. While I was advised to sit and wait for 20 minutes to see if I experienced any ill effects, I decided I preferred going home instead of dealing with the coterie of Colombo aunties seated and seething with discomfort.
Some organisms are worse than viruses, dear Colombite; remember that. The walk home was blissful and it was great to be out in the open air. The greedy devil in me led me straight to Hyve where I soothed myself with their delightful eclairs. This armed with a nice cup of Nescafé is sure to keep all types of negativity away, at least for a time.
Besides the fact that I had absolutely no ill effects after the vaccine, there is a ray of hope, I thought to myself, as I bit into one luscious eclair after another, and that is how easy the vaccination process was. I love a good gripe against the Government as much as any Sri Lankan, but I have to say kudos to the authorities that sorted out the vaccination process with such ease. A special mention to the nurses and medical staff who did a damn fine job managing the herd of unhappiness that streamed in through without any sense of courtesy or politeness. If there’s any hope in humanity, it would be found behind the masks of those frontline workers who are doing their utmost by everyone.
(Rohitha Perera is a writer, blogger, and content marketer from Colombo, Sri Lanka. He used to be an editor at a lifestyle magazine, and now works in the IT industry)
The views and opinions expressed in this column are those of the author, and do not necessarily reflect those of this publication.