Crazylanka: The Best of Crazylanka

The Two Men And The Bear

2013-09-20T22:05:00.001-07:00

The Two Men And The Bear

Minisün Dedena Saha Walaha

Gyan Fernando

Origin of this story: This was an original goody-goody story which appeared in the "Kumaraodaya", a Sinhala text for grade 1 in the 1950s. Our version has a goody-goody ending as well but the ending may be unsuitable for adults.

Once upon a time two men from a remote village in the Mahiyangana area were ambling along a jungle road talking of this and that (occasionally scratching their backsides) chewing Betel and spitting red betel juice all over the place whilst the women folk were busy working in the fields. This is rather typical of Srilankan villagers.

The two men were friends by the way.

If You Go Down To The Woods Today You're In For A Big Surprise...

Suddenly, they heard a low growl just like that of a Bear and the next minute a Bear appeared. Sound travels faster than Bears.

The two men panicked and would have nearly soiled their underwear except that they were not wearing any.

One man thought quickly, tucked his sarong into an Amude (thereby exposing his buttocks, but that's by the way) and quickly clambered up a nearby tree which unfortunately was full of red ants but red ant bites are far preferable to Bear bites.

The other man thought equally quickly and came up with the same idea but was handicapped by the fact that he couldn't climb trees. (This was the result of a bad childhood accident when he fell out of a tree and nearly ended up singing soprano.) He therefore abandoned the idea of following his friend's example. The friend was by now rapidly becoming an ex-friend for having abandoned ship!

He thought a little bit more.

Meanwhile the bear was advancing in slow motion like they do in wildlife films. "Jaws"-like Dum-Dum-Dum-Dum-Dum-Dum-Dum-Dum music was playing on the soundtrack. The man decided that the only thing to do was to lie down and pretend to be dead. He had read a story about two men and a bear.

Play Dead

He proceeded to lie face down on the ground. In his haste he didn't notice the freshly deposited cow dung but a faceful of steaming cow dung is better than being mauled by a bear.

In any case it could have been bull shit instead of cow dung which is the sort of minor technical detail that crosses one's mind when lying helplessly face down in the path of a charging bear.

*****

The bear was a little bit confused because he had never seen these hairless apes behaving like this. He of course knew that hairy apes - the ones with tails - regularly climbed trees, exposed their pink buttocks and did crazy things like grooming each other. But to see the hairless apes climbing trees and exposing their disgusting non-pink buttocks or lying like that in cow dung was a new one on him.

The hairless apes are crazier than the hairy ones thought the bear. Maybe they should have stayed up in the trees as well thought the bear.

Under the circumstances he decided to approach cautiously and silently and having turned off the sound effects.

The bear sniffed around the man on the ground. Bears are fussy. Villagers don't wash often and there emanating from the man was strong body odour mixed with the strong smell of cow dung. The bear sniffed around the man's ears and was disgusted to note the accumulation of dirt behind the ears. These hairless apes are filthy, he thought.

"Bugger this!" said the bear to himself and disappeared back into the jungle. (Technical Note: Bears hunt singly and have no choice but to speak to themselves.)

So-called Friends!

Relieved, the man got up and refused to speak to his so called friend who had abandoned ship.

"Never mind that but what did the bear whisper in you ear?" asked the guy up the tree climbing down and releasing his Amude.

"I am not telling you!"

"Aw, c'mon now! No secrets between friends! What did the bear say to you? Kiyapang Yakko!"

"I am not telling you! Palayang Yako!"

"You've got cow dung on your face"

"I am not telling you! Palayang Yako!"

"Kiyapang Paraballa!"

"Palayang Paraballa!"

"I'll kick you in the balls!"

" Oh all right I will tell you. The bear told me to invest all my savings on the SriLankan Stock Exchange as it is going to be a Bull Market. "

Bull Market

This was an exciting bit of inside information. As everybody knows stock market performance is referred to as a "Bull Market" or a "Bear Market" and it therefore stands to reason that bears should be knowledgeable on market movements.(So are bulls but this story is about a bear.)

The next day the guy who had abandoned his friend and had climbed up the tree took all his savings and behaving in his usual sneaky, smarmy, furtive and oily manner took the 0800 bus from Mahiyangana to Colombo via Hunnasgiriya and Kandy without telling his friend or even his wife. He ended up in Colombo Fort and had some difficulty in finding the stock exchange as Colombo is full of touts and it is dangerous to carry a lot of money. Eventually, he managed to find the place and invested all his money.

Millions? Shillions!

Ahhh! he thought. Tomorrow morning I will be a millionaire.

That night he slept on the Galle Face Green and dreamed of millions, a Benz car, whisky and girls in mini-skirts.

The next day the SriLankan Stock Exchange plunged dramatically taking with it our friend's savings. Our friend took a plunge as well…..in typical stockmarket investor/broker fashion....from the top floor of the Ceylinco Building.

The falling part of it didn't actually kill him but hitting the ground at the end of the fall did. He had precisely 2.83 seconds to think of this which is how long it takes to fall from the Ceylinco Building.

Moral:

1.Revenge is sweet!

2.Stockbrokers' advice is a load of bull!

The Gamarala Who Never Went To The Temple

2012-07-03T00:13:00.000-07:00

The Gamarala Who Never Went To The Temple

Gamarala Sil Gath Heti

by Gyan Fernando

Illustrated by Kumaran

Technical details: This is another classic Srilankan folk story.

We recently came across a new Sinhala version of the story in a pulp book called "Sabé Gamarala" (The Real Gamarala) written by some prat calling himself Jayatissa Boralugoda (ISBN 955-652-097-X), who attempts to sanitise and politically correct the Gamarala stories with pathetic results.

Any Srilankan who remembers the original story will agree that the new version is totally sanitised, a travesty and has very little resemblance to the original which appeared in the book "Ran Kekira Saha Thavath Katha" in the 1950s.

The MadPage version is closer to the original. In fact the original was so hilarious that the Mad Page didn't really have to jazz it up as such…

As usual memories were jogged by our MadSister Babs..

Once upon a time there was a Gamarala (village elder) who never went to the temple.

He had better things to do such as drinking arrack. This activity of course required a lot of advanced planning since liquor is not sold on Poya (full moon) days and the moon of course follows the Lunar Calendar.

Mrs Gamarala never touched alcohol like most Srilankan women do and went to the temple every poya day clad in spotless white to observe Sil.

She of course went on and on at the Gamarala, as women do, about his drinking habits and his non-observance of the Poya Day.

Sura Meraya

After all one of the Buddhist precepts is "Thou shall abstain from alcohol" (Sura meraya majjapama dhattana veramani sicca padang samadiyami) which ish not eashy to shay when drunk.

One day the Gamarala said to himself " Bugger this! I can't stand this anymore! I am going to the temple just to keep the little woman quiet." Anything for a quiet wife!

The Gamarala's announcement was greeted with considerable hilarity by his dozen or so assorted children ("Menna bolé Appachchi Pansal yanda hadanawa!").

He ignored them.

Mrs Gamarala took this business very seriously of course.

Women are like that. They are fussy, lack a sense of humour but are nice!

On the appointed day she first hid the bottle of arrack behind the wangediya (mortar) and got the Gamarala to get into a white sarong. The Gamarala preferred his dirty old multi-coloured striped sarong but decided to grin and bear it.

Because of the children Mrs Gamarala could not accompany him.

"What do I do when I get to the temple?" demanded the Gamarala slightly irritably.

"Simple!" said Mrs Gamarala. "Just repeat what the priest says!"

"Repeat everything?" he asked.

"Repeat everything! " she said.

Gloom and Doom and Dadoriya

The Gamarala set off with a sense of foreboding. He didn't like this at all. He felt uncomfortable in the starchy white sarong. It was like wearing paper. The old sarong was much more comfortable. One could scratch one's nether regions when wearing the old sarong. This one was scratchy but you couldn't scratch yourself.

Scratching oneself is a Sri Lankan past time.

The sun was up and shining but this didn't particularly cheer up the Gamarala. The sun always shines in Sri Lanka and therefore there is no reason why people should cheer up at the sight of the sun.

Very soon he ran into trouble in the form of "Dadoriya", a rather vicious dog belonging to his neighbour.

Relations were slightly strained between the Gamarala and Dadoriya.

As usual Dadoriya started barking, "Bow Bow" in Sinhalese. (Dadoriya could only speak Sinhala and could only go Bow Bow whereas English educated dogs go Bow Wow or Arf! Arf! American dogs bark in a broad Brooklyn accent like Spike in the Tom and Jerry cartoons.)

The Gamarala thought that this would be a good opportunity to practice observing Sil. Repeat everything his wife had told him.

The Gamarala looked at Dadoriya squarely in the eye and went "Bow Bow" with predictable results.

"Bow Bow" said Dadoriya.

"Bow Bow" said the Gamarala.

This went on for a while and then without warning Dadoriya changed tack, bared his yellow fangs, let out a low growl and went for the Gamarala.

The main point of contact between Dadoriya's fangs and the Gamarala was the seat of the pants except the Gamarala was not wearing any.

He was only wearing a thin sarong.

The Gamarala ran in the general direction of the temple muttering Srilankan swear words, which we decline to translate, as this is a family page.

Cross Talk

The priest at the temple was surprised to see the Gamarala. With a twinkle in his eyes he decided to tease the Gamarala a bit and greeted the Gamarala patronisingly and pompously but in the traditional Srilankan fashion "Kohomada Gamarala?" (Gamarala, How Are You?).

"Repeat everything" thought the Gamarala. That's what the wife said. So the Gamarala looked at the priest squarely in the eye, thought, "Well he can't bite me, can he?" and, with a patronising and pompous smile said "Kohomada Gamarala?"

The priest was a little bit taken aback and said "No!No!No!No! I said Kohomada Gamarala"

The Gamarala said "No!No!No!No! I said Kohomada Gamarala"

"I heard you the first time!" said the priest rather sharply.

"I heard you the first time!" said the Gamarala equally sharply.

"There is no need to shout" shouted the priest

"There is no need to shout" shouted the Gamarala

"Are you drunk?"

Voices were raised and very soon other members of the congregation had gathered around the temple compound to observe this amazing exchange of views.

Observing that he had an audience and aware that he was having the Micky taken out of him by this uneducated Gamarala the priest drew himself up to his full height (5ft 8 inches) turned to them and solemnly and majestically said,

"This idiot (buruwa) is drunk".

The Gamarala drew himself up to his full height (5ft 10 inches) turned to the audience and equally solemnly and majestically said

"This buruwa is drunk".

The Gamarala had a 2 inch advantage.

There was a gasp of astonishment from the audience to hear the priest being referred to in this manner and with a 2 inch disadvantage.

An old woman by the name of Kalapugamage Don Nimal Hamy, with recent cataract operations on her eyes and consequently not yet used to her thick spectacles, did not know what best to do under these unusual circumstances and said "Sadu! Sadu! Sadu!" which is of course the Buddhist equivalent of "Amen".

When he heard this, the Gamarala thought I must have been doing all right. That's why the woman said "Sadu Sadu".

The wife was right! Just repeat everything.

Coincidentally, there was a dramatic drum roll. Drums are part of the temple traditions.

The Gamarala smiled pleased that this Sil business was fun and easier than he had imagined.

The sight of the Gamarala grinning like a half-wit so incensed the priest that he almost forgot his own teachings.

He nearly burst a cerebral blood vessel. Turning to the gathering the priest pointed to the Gamarala and said

"Menna Bola Pissek!" ("This guy is a nutter!")

Gamarala: "Menna Bola Pissek!"

Priest: "Menna Bola Horek!" ("This guy is a cutthroat")

Gamarala: "Menna Bola Horek!"

Priest: "Mé Yaka Geri Kunak!" (This devil is a rotting carcass of a cow)

Gamarala: "Mé yaka Geri Kunak!"

Priest: " Mé Yaka ***$%&!1@#!"

Gamarala: " Mé Yaka ***$%&!1@#!"

This went on for a while. Srlankans have a colourful vocabulary and many insults were exchanged but we decline to repeat them.

Fun and Games

The Gamarala thought this was fun although slightly shocked by the language (he was only repeating everything) and a little bit taken aback to realise that this is what Mrs Gamarala was up to on Poya days.

Must have a serious talk with that woman when I get back home thought the Gamarala.

Dadoriya's Return Eka

At this stage the proceedings were interrupted by the sudden appearance of the dog Dadoriya.

Seeing his old adversary, the Gamarala decided to run to the other side of the temple compound.

This so-called "tactical withdrawal" on the part of the Gamarala convinced everyone that he must be clearly at fault and clearly guilty of something. Why else did he panic like that?

So they set upon him with the highly excited Dadoriya leading the attack.

Retreat

A battered Gamarala made his way home.

He who fights and runs lives to fight another day.

His sarong was torn.

His bum was beginning to hurt from the initial attack of Dadoriya and his left eye was rapidly becoming a "shiner".

He had had to creep through a barbed wire fence to get away from the temple mob. Not a very pleasant experience especially when in a hurry.

The bloody kids went about with barely suppressed mirth when they heard this account.

They started a new game of repeating everything the other said.

One of the kids started barking like Dadoriya.

"Bugger this," thought the Gamarala "I never knew religion could be so painful"

His only consolation was that he had given as good as he got in the temple fray.

He was particularly pleased with his left hook which KOed the obnoxious holier-than-thou Ratnayake Mudiyanselagé (Aiyo!) Sirisena who was always hanging around the temple just to impress everyone.

Bugger him!

****

In his excitement Dadoriya of course had forgotten his remit: i.e. of attacking the Gamarala exclusively, had abandoned the original battle plan, entered freely into the spirit of things and had bitten anyone who got in his way.

The enduring memory of Dadoriya hanging by his fangs on to the bum of one of the temple elders brought a smile to the Gamarala's lips.

Mrs Gamarala did her best not to laugh.

This was rather difficult as she was a naturally giggly sort of woman, like most Srilankan women are, and always held her right hand across her face when she giggled.

Most importantly she was a good woman.

She went into the kitchen and got the bottle of arrack out from behind the Wangediya where she had hidden it, got a clean glass and placed them before the Gamarala.

Ahh! Good woman! Thought the Gamarala……

Moral: Arrack is safer than religion and less painful.

First written on the 8th of December 2001

The Gamarala and the Ash Gourd

2012-06-26T21:23:00.000-07:00

The Gamarala and the Ash Gourd

Puhul Hora

by Gyan Fernando

Illustrated by Kumaran

Intro: This is another classic Srilankan folk story but spoilt by the rather tame and goody-goody ending. So we jazzed it up and in keeping with present violent times in the old republic have added a bit of violence! But don't worry: No one gets killed and so it has a U certificate and is therefore suitable for family viewing!

Once upon a time there was a Gamarala (village elder). This is the same Gamarala who appears in previous stories so read them first. He was a cultivator by day time and an Arrakku soak by night but he never was a violent man.

With a dozen or so assorted kids the only solace he could find was of the bottled form.

The Ash Gourd

One morning he got up with a hangover and after the usual cup of plain tea he went down to his plantation to check on his prize ash gourds (Alu Puhul). This was a Monday morning and as far as the Gamarala was concerned this was like turning up in the office on a Monday morning...except that the Gamarala had never worked in an office but some of us have and know the feeling.....

The birds sang causing the Gamarala to wince. He had that bad a hangover. The Gamarala went straight to his Ash Gourd plot to check on his favourites and was totally taken aback to find several missing!

The Gamarala did a double take and came out with a strong Srilankan swearword (which refers to a certain part of the female anatomy) which we decline to mention or translate!

"Fine start to the day, this!" thought the Gamarala, scratching his head and then his bum in that order. When this action failed to produce results, like all married men, he thought of his wife and decided to consult her.

"Good woman!" thought the Gamarala "She will come up with an idea!"

Mrs Gamarala of course had read an old story about the theft of Ash Gourds. Ash Gourds are rather heavy and the only way to carry them without giving yourself a double hernia is to carry them on your shoulder.
They are also distinctive in that they have a generous dusting of mildew which gives them their name and which gets on your hands and on your shoulders if you happen to handle them.

Trace evidence

This is "Trace evidence" in Forensic parlance or "Puhul Hora Ka ren dané" as the saying goes which roughly translated means "The gourd thief has trace evidence on his shoulders"

Easy Peasy! Just go down to the bazaar and make the announcement "Puhul Hora Ka ren dané" and the guy who reflexly brushes his shoulders is the thief!

That's how it works!

This is where the original story ended and the Gamarala caught the thief.

But this is Srilanka after a 20 yr old civil war. People are much cleverer or rather more crooked.

The worst rascals are politicians, supporters of politicians, Police, Army deserters, imitation Buddhist monks and Catholic priests.

On his wife's suggestion he went down to the bazaar and tried the old trick but they just laughed at him.... especially W. William Appuhamy ("Willie Mahattaya") who ran a tavern and illicit distillery (Kassippu joint) and a combined brothel just across the road from the Police station.

Cops and Robbers

Willie was a typical thug from the south who specialised in living off poor villagers in the Polonnaruwa area. The police were well supplied with moonshine and other services (Ahem!) and they had an "understanding" with Willie Mahattaya.

"Go and tell the Police" said Willie Mahattaya brushing his shoulders in a sarcastic manner. He knew what had happened to the Ash Gourds!

He had stolen them and given them to the Police by way of protection money!

"The Gamarala can jump up and down if he wanted to but I've got the Law on my side! Ha! Ha ! Ha!" thought the obnoxious Willie.

" Ha! Ha! Ha! Ask Willie Mahattaya" laughed the equally obnoxious desk Sergeant when the Gamarala went to the Police Station to complain and added, rather unnecessarily, "Palayang Yako!"

Gamarala and Mrs The crestfallen Gamarala came back home (The Gamarala didn't actually have a crest but had his hair tied into a little knot at the back of his head)

The Gamarala opened a bottle of arrack. The kids were silent for a change.

The Gamarala fully expected them to laugh at him in an obnoxious manner and brush their shoulders in a sarcastic manner but they didn't; thus depriving the Gamarala of an opportunity to vent his anger.

The Gamarala put his lips to the bottle.

Mrs Gamarala silently manifested herself and placed a clean glass and a few Vaddai in front of him. She had the curious combined aroma of sandlewood and curry that Sri Lankan women smell of. "Good woman" thought the Gamarala.

"Bugger this!" thought the Gamarala after the first gulp of arrack. I will have to do something about Willie Mahattaya and the Police.

Panathi patha

In spite of the seething anger inside him the Gamarala came to the realisation that he was a non-violent man. After all as a Buddhist ( but who never went to the temple) he could remember the precept Though Shalt Not Kill: Panathi Patha Veramani Sicca Padang Samadiyami.

So there was no question of chucking hand grenades at Willie Mahattaya's House Of Ill-Repute or at the Police House of IR although grenades were easy to come by and quite cheap.

"I might change my mind after I pull the pin and blow my own balls off!" thought the Gamarala.

In any case both Willie Mahattaya and the Police have superior fire power...I am not a violent man but something has to be done....Hic!

The next day he took a bus to Polonnaruwa Town and bought essential supplies including another bottle of Arrack.

In Polonnaruwa Town there was some talk of an impending terrorist attack and the atmosphere was tense.........

The Gamarala got back to his village and told all and sundry about the rumours of terrorist action that he had heard in town grossly exaggerating them.

Grossly exaggerating news is quite normal in Srilanka.

After dark the Gamarala, having adjusted blood alcohol levels for the dangerous mission in hand, crept up behind Willie Mahattaya's establishment. There were sounds of drunken roistering coming from the Tavern and female type giggles from the brothel.

"Sod them!" thought the Gamarala.

He laid several rows of firecrackers in the undergrowth and lit a time honoured Srilankan type Time Delay Fuse consisting of several joss sticks tied together. (Most SriLankan schoolboys master this technique by the 6th grade and some get expelled from school soon afterwards.)

May The Darkness Be With You!

This was the "Power-Cut-time" and the darkness worked in the Gamarala's favour.

It was The New Moon or the "Masay Poya" as well and the whole place was in total darkness or in local parlance "Gana Andura".

Next he crept across the road and behind the police station....The Police were getting drunk as well...A drunken copper was urinating in the back garden.

The Arrack was beginning to work on the Gamarala and just for the heck of it he decided to creep up behind Seelawathie's house as well...

Seelawathie was a rather tarty 30-something woman with a Sigiriya-fresco-type figure with massive child-bearing hips. Her husband worked in the Middle East. Without a man she was a highly excitable woman with a scream like a locomotive air horn.

He! He! (hic!) thought the Gamarala.

INDEPENDENCE DAY!

His work finished the Gamarala crept back home and set to work on the rest of the Arrack. Thus fortified and feeling happy he was about to launch into his usual conversation with the Missus to maintain an air of nonchalance when several loud reports followed by a so called blood-curdling-type woman's scream was heard in the bazaar.

"There she goes!" thought the Gamarala recognising his handiwork and Seelawathie's air raid siren-like scream....The Gamarala pretended that he hadn't heard anything.

****

In the bazaar things were happening very quickly.

Mistaking the Gamarala's firecrackers behind Seelawathi's house for machinegun fire and thinking that this was a terrorist attack the coppers, characteristically, decided to get out by the back door and hide in the jungle. No sooner had they thought of this when "machine gun fire" erupted behind the police station and in the jungle. Escape was clearly not possible in that direction.

Several coppers needed a change of underwear.

There was only one thing to do and that was to grab their machine guns and grenades and run out of the front.

The next minute gunfire could be heard from the other side of the road and from Willie's establishment.

On hearing the "gunfire" Willie had grabbed his arsenal and had started firing in the direction of the "attack" which happened to be in the general direction of the Police Station.

At about the same time the firecrackers behind Willie's house started going off causing Willie to nearly shoot himself in the foot.

He was obviously in a crossfire!

Several naked tarts screamed and jumped out of the brothel windows closely followed by their clients.

Kasippu will flow like....

After that the action became rather confusing. A flare fired by a constable landed on a barrel of kassipu and set Willie's distillery on fire.

Several barrels exploded and burning kassippu flowed out into the street. Seeing his assets and life's savings going up in flames and thinking that this was a cunning plan by the police to take over his business, Willie threw several hand grenades in the general direction of the Police Station.

The Police station exploded in an orange ball of fire in Hollywood disaster movie fashion but by this time the coppers had managed to get out and were firing wildly.

Stumbling in the dark the sergeant fell into a cess pit and swallowed several mouthfuls of the contents of the same.

A highly excited police dog by the name of "Viduliya" ("Lightning") trained to attack terrorists forgot his training manual and bit a policeman.

"Budu Ammooooo" screamed the policeman.

Deyyo Saakki!

Just about the same time as his own spilt moonshine set fire to his sarong a stray bullet hit Willie's left knee shattering the joint and lacerating the popliteal artery........"Deyyo Saaaaakki!" screamed Willie invoking the Gods.

Right on cue the power cut suddenly ended revealing a sorry sight.

They all blamed it on the terrorists of course!

****

Willie Mahattaya was taken to hospital in time and survived the experience although he had to undergo a left above knee amputation.

Realising that he was going to survive he stopped invoking the Gods and reverted to the more earthy type of Srilankan swearing.

This type of swearing mostly refers to the pedigree of the person being insulted or their mothers, and in this case that of the police.

Willie had also suffered 2nd degree burns in the areas normally covered by the sarong. With one leg gone, a painfully burnt bum and most of his assets destroyed Willie realised it would be dangerous to stay on in the village and decided to return to his own village just off Ahungalla.

The Police station had been reduced to a pile of smouldering debris of the 11th of September type.

On this basis the police managed to get posted to Colombo.

With the Police and Willie Mahattaya gone peace returned to the village...

Stop it!

"That's enough drinking" ("Oya biwwa athi!") rebuked Mrs Gamarala with an imperceptible smile and noticing that the Gamarala was grinning from ear to ear...

The Gamarala put the glass down...
Moral: Those who live by the gun are scared of firecrackers!

First written on the 4th of February (Independence Day) 2002

Classics Up To Date: How the Gamarala (nearly!) went to Heaven

2012-05-08T23:48:00.001-07:00

How the Gamarala (nearly!) went to Heaven

Gamarala Devlova Giya Hatti

A classic Srilankan sinhala folk story given the MadPagetm treatment!

Illustrated by Kumaran

Explanatory note: This story is based, rather loosely, on a very old classic Srilankan folk story. A Gamarala is best described as a village elder/farmer. As usual the story has been given the MadPage tm treatment and modernised with a very slight political/social commentary slant...

Once upon a time......

or Ekamuth Eka Rataka...

Once upon a time a Gamarala lived in a remote village in the jungle with his wife and half-a-dozen assorted kids and his mother-in-law. Life was tough. Not only because of the mother-in-law.

Foreign aid never reached this part of the country. Most of the foreign aid went towards sustaining politicians and terrorist groups. The poor Gamarala was at least lucky to have his own rice field (paddy field). That was why he was the Gamarala.

Crop Circles

Every morning after his cup of tea (strong, black and with three and a half sugars) he would wander off to inspect his field. One morning he was surprised to find that the rice field showed what appeared to be crop circles. The Gamarala had not heard of crop circles but he could recognise elephant tracks when he saw them and which they were.

That night after dinner he decided to lie in wait in the paddy field.

Soon after dusk he heard a low rumble like that of a four-high-bypass-turbofan-engined aircraft on low throttle and looked towards the jungle fully expecting a common-or-garden Elephas maximas to emerge from the jungle. It came as a surprise therefore when he saw a large white object in the sky approaching from a North-Westerly direction.

To his amazement this turned out to be a white elephant much bigger than Walt Disney's Dumbo approaching at a speed of approx 120 knots with flaps (ears) fully deployed and undercarriage down. The white elephant made a perfect four-point landing, reversed thrust and taxied to the paddy field and set to work on the rice.

The stunned Gamarala watched this strange phenomenon. He was stunned because it is not every day that Gamaralas see white elephants gorging on rice. In the cities this would not be considered strange. Stranger things happened in cities all the time.

Having gorged itself on rice the elephant eventually took off heavenwards.The same thing happened the next day and the day after. On the third day nothing happened. The Gamarala wondered why the elephant had not turned up when he suddenly realised that it was the Poya Day. Nothing much happens on the Poya day in Srilanka. White elephants don't fly on Poya days.

The day after the flights resumed.

The Gamarala started thinking. This was obviously an elephant from heaven. It had to be because it was white, it was obviously well-fed and fat and it looked happy. If I were to grab the elephant's tail in the same way that refugees hide inside the wheel wells of departing aircraft then I might be able to go to heaven.
Heaven must be a great place. They work in Dollars. No one is poor. Everything is big. Life is easy......

The Gamarala of course was a decent sort of bloke. He did not want to leave his wife or kids behind. He didn't give a toss for his mother-in-law but the wife might want to take her along as well. Excess baggage! he thought.

That night he told his wife about his experiences and his plan. The conversation started off in the traditional Srilankan manner: "Mé! Ahunada?" (Did you hear?)...........Took a lot of convincing. She thought he was drunk and said "Mé! Kagahane nathuwa budiyagannawa!" ("Shut up and go to sleep!"). Took a lot of convincing.

Planning took a few more days and meanwhile there were regular flights.

****

Final Call

On the appointed day the Gamarala and his extended family gathered at the paddy field. Because of air traffic problems the elephant was late by approx 50 minutes. These were anxious minutes. The Gamarala drank Arrack to calm his nerves. Eventually the elephant landed and went through its usual routine. The turnaround time was short. Just before take off the Gamarala grabbed the elephants tail. Mrs. Gamarala grabbed her husband around his waist in pillion rider fashion. The kids grabbed their mother and each other in order of seniority, with mother-in-law bringing up the rear, in Conga line fashion. With a gentle pushing of the throttles and flaps 10 degrees the white elephant took off into the night sky with a loud but reassuring rumble.

Jumbos can carry a decent payload and the slightly increased take-off weight did not bother the elephant at all. At 2000 ft the lights of Colombo were clearly visible on the Port side. At 4000ft there was a bit of turbulence and the Gamarala wished that he hadn't drunk that much arrack in the departure lounge. At 6000ft the Jumbo cleared the low cloud ceiling into the clear moonless sky and having received ATC clearance settled into a steady climb to Flight Level 33. A faint glow of twilight was visible to the west. The east was dark. The stars were bright.

"Ahhh!" thought the Gamarala. Very soon we will be in heaven he thought. As soon as I get a half decent job, even if it is with McDonalds, I am going to buy a Merc......No! A Cadillac..... No! A stretch limmo!... Mother-in-law can go in the boot! She is an old bag anyway! Ha! Ha!

10000ft..... 11000ft..... 11500ft.......and then disaster struck!

Disaster!

Unknown to the Gamarala the elephant had been gorging itself on over-ripe Jak fruit (Waraka) that morning. Unfortunately overindulgence on over-ripe Waraka can lead to flatulance. With the rapid rate of ascent and the consequent rapid drop in atmospheric pressure the intestinal pressures had increased to dangerous levels, particularly in the lower colon/rectal end. Passing 11800ft suddenly and without warning the elephant suffered explosive decompression and the Gamarala who was hanging on to the tail got a face full! Oxygen masks did not deploy as oxygen masks only deploy at altitudes above 12000ft.

The surprised Gamarala said "Shit!" which was appropriate under the circumstances. In his surprise he let go of the Jumbo's tail which was inappropriate under the circumstances. The Gamarala and his whole entourage went into a free fall in the night sky.

Are we there yet Daddy?

But then this was the 21st Century! Even Gamaralas of remote Srilankan villages had heard of parachutes! With a shout of "Geronimo!" or rather the Srilankan equivalent of Geronimo (which is "Adoooo!") the Gamarala et al entered the free fall.

"Dad! This is great!" said one of the kids. "Shut up!" said the Gamarala through gritted Betel stained teeth.. He couldn't remember the kid's name as he had so many kids and wasn't even sure if it was one of his.

The Gamarala took control of the situation. They were falling through 10000ft and then through 9000ft. At 8000ft they deployed their 'chutes. The white canopies mushroomed in the night sky and they wafted slowly earthwards.

"Daddy! Are we there yet?" asked a small voice. "Hey Dad! Are we going back home?" asked a medium sized voice. "Mission aborted!" said a bigger and slightly sarcastic kids voice.

"Shut your bloody faces! All of you!" said the Gamarala... "None of your smart-arsed comments!" said the exasperated Gamarala slightly ungritting his teeth. Constant gritting of teeth causes premature wear of the enamel....

Down to earth

The landing was rather uneventful except that the Gamarala who was rather big landed awkwardly in the muddy paddy field and ended up waist deep in mud. They pulled him out with the harness of the 'chute.

Later that night after a good scrub and a wash the Gamarala sat in his favourite chair in the verandah, lit a smelly Jaffna cigar and contemplated the day's events.

The fireflies were flitting around in the darkness flashing their navigation lights. The mosquitoes avoided him. Mosquitoes don't like the smell of elephant dung. Small consolation! he thought. He could hear his wife and mother-in-law arguing in the kitchen. God! how he hated the woman! The mother-in-law that is. Could strangle her, he thought.
Pity her parachute opened.

And the bloody kids! The bloody kids were running around in a Conga line circle making loud elephant-fart-type noises whilst holding their noses in an obnoxious fashion.

They are making fun of me he thought. "Bugger you!" he shouted. "Not in front of the children dear!" admonished Mrs. Gamarala in her down-to-earth placid manner...

"BUGGER THE WHOLE BLOODY LOT OF YOU!!" he shouted loudly but silently. Years of married life had taught him the art of how to shout loudly but silently. The sky was dark. Cloud cover. No stars. No Arrack...

His gloomy thoughts were interrupted by one of the kids. "Daddy!" piped up a small voice in the oil-lamp-gloominess.

"If Heaven is such a great place why does the elephant have to come down to earth for its meals?"

Good point! thought the Gamarala brightening up and patting the kid on the head. Bright kid, he thought. Must be one of mine, he thought...

Life on earth is not too bad...

*****

Moral: There are loads of morals in this story. Make one up for yourselves!

©Copyright Gyan Fernando 2001 First written on the 26th of September 2001

Sri Lanka Classics up to date: Nari Bena

2012-03-26T07:04:00.001-07:00

Nari Béna or Hivala Saha Gama Duwa

Honey! Our son-in-law is a Jackal!

Another Srilankan folk tale updated!

Gyan Fernando

Illustrated by Kumaran

Introduction: This story appeared in the Kumarodaya 5, a Sinhala text for the sixth grade in 1952 and can be found in later editions (Gunasena Publishers). It has been made into a play ("Nari Béna"). Our version has been modernised and jazzed up! The Gamarala in this story is a different one from the one that appears in other stories...

Once upon a time in a village just off Avissawella (in Sri Lanka) lived a family consisting of an elderly Gamarala (village elder), Mrs Gamarala and their teenage tearaway daughter.

The old couple were pretty senile and naive to the extent of being utterly thick. Like two planks...put together. The daughter was pretty, modern, restless and dressed in revealing short black dresses with thin straps much to the irritation of the elderly parents. She always listened to loud music on the radio and crossed and uncrossed her legs.

****

One day there was a blazing row between mother and daughter after she (the daughter) turned up late one night with smeared lipstick, smelling strongly of booze and slightly listing to starboard.
The mother lost her cool and shouted to the effect that "One day we are going to give you in marriage to a jackal". "With a massive dowry" she added.

Unfortunately for them a jackal was listening to this argument from the thicket at the back of the garden.
There are a lot of jackals in Sri Lanka.
The jackal thought "Cor! Isn't she a bit of an alright!" and his imagination started running riot.
Visions of a radiant bride in white, the free meals, the dowry and (ahem!) the honeymoon fired the jackal's imagination. Without realising it the jackal let out

a vulgar laugh ("Hokaa! Hokaa! Hok!Hok! Hok!" on a key of A minor), leaped in the air, repeatedly ran around in a

small circle before streaking off into the jungle only stopping once to raise his hind leg and urinate into a bush to mark its territory..

Omen

The laugh of a jackal is considered a bad omen and on hearing this cold shivers ran down the spine of Mrs Gamarala. She covered herself with a blanket.

Time passed and the daughter was getting increasingly unmanageable. She would set off in the morning apparently to work in a Garment Factory at Nugegoda but would come home with lipstick all over her face etc.

The old couple decided that it was time to settle her down with a husband of sober habits.

Advertisements were placed in the "Mangala Yojana" (Marriage Proposals) column of the state controlled newspapers. (Most people only read the marriage proposals of these newspapers). A large dowry was on offer.

Eventually, after going through a number of abortive proposals (the horoscopes didn't match) they managed to shortlist two.

One bloke was already married and was scratched out. That left a 36yr old, skinny, pol-piththa (coconut frond) like-Arya-Sinhala suit-wearing-johnny with slightly less sex-appeal than a discarded pol kombaya.

Surprisingly, the daughter agreed.

The day of the wedding arrived and no expenses had been spared as far as the reception was concerned. It was an evening wedding in accordance with auspicious hours.

In addition to the traditional Kavum, Kokis, Kiributh and Athiraha stuff there were all sorts of stuff from Elephant House in Colombo.
The groom arrived in good time looking increasingly like a dried pol piththa and the bride looked radiant (like most brides do 'till you take their make-up off).

The Day Of The Jackal

The ceremony was about to start when a hired bus arrived just after sundown and a group off well-dressed jackals got off shouting "Hokaa! Hokaa! Hok!Hok! Hok!".

The leader of the group approached the mother of the bride and very politely

but firmly said "Mother-in-law can't you recognise me? You did say that you were going to marry your daughter off to a jackal didn't you? Well here I am to take her away! Where is the dowry! Ah?"

A cold shiver ran down Mrs Gamarala's spine but there was no blanket to hand and so the cold shiver kept on running up and down the s.

Shivers are always cold even when you have Malaria...by the way.

There was pin-drop silence but no one dropped a pin.
The silence was broken by the rest of the jackal party going

"Hokaa! Hokaa! Hok!Hok! Hok! Hoo! Hoo! Hoooo!"

Some of the jackals were already helping themselves to the food without being invited and were drinking out of Sharona bottles containing an amber coloured non-Sharona like liquid.

The old Gamarala coughed and took control of the situation and asked his wife "Is this true what this Hivala has to say?"

She admitted it was.

Another silence broken only by the jackals going "Hokaa!...etc"

Folks! It's Baila Time!

Under the circs. they decided to keep their word.
Civil action in cases of Breach of Promise can be expensive.
The real groom (the pol piththa) raised no objections and departed and the jackal got married to the girl.
The girl didn't complain.

The jackal's party got hold of the dowry, went out and came back with more amber liquid.

They drank and ate in that order and started dancing to loud Baila.

The bride joined in the dancing slightly lifting her sari to the tune of "Redda Ussa Ussa!...Passa! Passa!" etc.

Some of the jackals threw up in the flower pots and tripped up on each others tails. Some ran off into the garden and urinated without raising their hind legs because they were standing on their hind legs.
Some started discarding their jackal skins and that included the groom.

It was then that the grim truth dawned on the old couple....with the subtlety of a falling coconut!

They had married off their daughter to a University student that she had been having a clandestine affair with!

"Aney apata wuna wedé" ("See what misfortune has befallen us!") cried the old couple.

Their cries were drowned out by a raucous rendition of the old classic "Chuda Maniké Balala..." to the accompaniment of the sound of smashing glasses!

Moral: Universities are breeding grounds for jackals!

Illustrations copyright as well..and if you copy them without asking us nicely we will send the Nari to your server!

Hoka! Hoka! Hoo! Hoo! Hoooooo

First written on the 11th of September 2002

McMalupaan: We took on the Big Mac!

2012-03-21T02:30:00.002-07:00

The McMalupaan Corp

On the 22nd of April 2001, feeling rather militant and anti-American, we decided to take the mickey out of McDonalds and launch our own McMalupaan Corporation. This was largely to make fun out the Colombo 7 types who queued up for miles to get into the first McDonalds in Srilanka, mostly just to be seen.

So we said:

"The philosophy of McDonald's is simple.....

Serve food that can be eaten with fingers. Cook fast and serve fast. (The food itself is only of minor importance). Bung it in an attractive wrapper with an eye-catching logo. Make your employees wear backward facing baseball caps.

Teach them how to say "Can I Help You". Diversify into ethnic foods, especially when people go off traditional beefburgers because of Mad Cow Disease.

Thinking on the same lines, the Mad PageTM decided to introduce McMALUPAAN before our competition (i.e. The McDonald's Corporation) thinks of it!"

We gave our location as Punchi Borella and a lot of people fell for it!

View the original article

We went on to market McMalupaan, McMalupaan with Cheese Big McMalupaan McDelfries McVaddai and McPortello

We stopped short of marketing McKoththuroti

For example we said:

"Since potatoes are expensive in Srilanka cut Del (breadfruit) into french fries shape. Del is paler in colour, so add turmeric or Sunset Yellow. Freeze. Fry frozen Delfries. Serve in red carton."

Above: McMalupaan with some of the ingredients that go into them!

We went on to give a warning to potential franchisees in case the McDonald Corp took us to court. McDonalds, however, totally ignored us!

"WARNING!

Trade mark infringements:

Because of trade mark infringement problems its best to change your name by deed poll to something with Mc in it. e.g. McPerera, McSirisena, McBandaranaike, McAppuhamy, McSomawathie etc. McDonald's are known to pursue such matters relentlessly through the courts......but let them try litigation in Srilankan Courts! Especially with names like McPragñagochara Pragñawansalagé McPragñaratna of Kahatagasdigiliya!"

The Daily Ranil

2012-03-19T23:43:00.000-07:00

The Daily Ranil

At the height (or bottom) of his career, we ran a one-off spoof newspaper titled "The Daily Ranil", making fun of Ranil Wickremesinghe, then the Prime Minister (or Pry Minister, as we called him) of the crazy republic.

Have a look.

The Daily Ranil

The Daily Ranil Features

We also wrote "Ranil's Diary" for him. Have a look!

Ranil's Diary

Archives: Ranil's Diary

Australian Lanka Girl Has 42 Teeth!

2012-03-19T14:31:00.000-07:00

TOOTHPASTE

At about the time that Crazylanka got on the web, Sri Lankan Australians started a sickly-sweet, goody-goody website called Ozlanka.

Amongst other things, they carried a glossy web magazine called estyle which basically consisted of a front cover with a picture of a well-fed and obese Sri Lankan-Australian, middle-aged female or a picture of a teenage Sri Lankan-Australian girl with a toothpaste smile.

The latter intrigued us and with a bit of photo manipulation, we did a one off spoof cover of the said magazine, calling it the "Toothpaste".

It carried a picture of one of their fixed-smile models and it was headed "Australian Lanka Girl Has 42 Teeth".

We hope that the poor girl concerned has lived it down!

Australian Lanka Girl Has 42 Teeth!

A Srilankan born Australian girl (above) Danthani Danthawardena is reputed to have a record number of teeth for a human. At last count she had 42 teeth, marginally less than that of a Great White Shark, but like with sharks she seems to produce more teeth every week.

"I am at my wit's end!" said her long-suffering mother "Aiyo Darlink! What can I do? Thish girl is costing us a fortune in Dental bills and Dentists don't come cheap here in Melbourne.
After she bit the last dentist, who lost his little finger, insurance has also gone up, Aney!"

"My husband, spends all day drinking Foster's Lager and is totally useless. His moda suggestion eka is to hit her in the face with a sledgehammer and knock all her teeth out! She sometimes does deserves it!

All she does is put make up and pose for pictures....."

(contd next week eka)

The Revised History of Sri Lanka

2012-03-19T10:34:00.000-07:00

The Revised History of Sri Lanka

(Abridged)

When we at Crazylanka first revised the History of Sri Lanka, our idea was to get rid of the boring bits, find the funny bits and jazz them up.

At that time it was received well when Sri Lankans had the ability to laugh at themselves in a self-effacing manner.

I am not sure if the sentiments are still the same. Nationalistic pride is important but so is the ability to see the funny side of things.

Without further commentary, here is the story about the arrival of the Portuguese in Sri Lanka which appeared in Crazylanka on the 24th of February 2001.

It is presented here in a re-formatted and very slightly revised form.

The Portuguese "Discover" Sri Lanka

In 1497 a young Portuguese lad by the name of Vasco da Gama went on a sailing holiday. (It was his gap year.) He rounded off the Cape of Good Hope and managed to find India. At least he was aiming for India and found India ....(unlike a certain Chris Columbus!)..

Another one of his countrymen, by the name of Lorenzo de Almeida fancied a similar holiday in Goa and set off with his pals..He did round off the cape and get to the Indian Ocean but it was the wrong time of the year! Monsoons!

They were drunk as well....A storm blew up and he made a wrong right turn at the Equator (Bugger!) ending up in the natural harbour of Cola Amba Tota..in a little island that the natives called Srilanka. This being a rather mouthful the guys decided to call the place Colombo, and the island Cee-lan...

The date is the 15th of November 1505.

Seeing that the whole place was full of "bloody foreigners" Lorenzo and the boys let off a few cannon....just for fun..! The locals had never seen such behaviour....allright they did fight a bit amongst themselves and with their darker skinned bretheren of Yalpanam (Jaffna), but that was with swords and spears and arrows and elephants and boiling pitch..but this was real live ammo!

Moreover the "white guys" were drinking red stuff out of bottles labeled Vin Rouge (very definitely blood!..and didn't they eat large white chunks of Dolomite which they called Paan!?) They burped loudly and farted loudly and threw up and sang boisterous songs called Bailé..

Take me to your leader!

Lorenzo sort of liked the place and wandered along the harbour and bumped into a native who happened to be a local tout."Take me to your leader" said Lorenzo.The native didn't understand Portuguese; so he rotated his head from side to side and rolled his eyeballs and flashed a set of betel-stained teeth.

Lorenzo said "Are you a bloody moron man?".

The native did a slightly different rotation of the head and said something in Sinhala which Lorenzo didn't understand. So Lorenzo rotated his head violently, rotated his eyeballs violently, stuck his tongue out and said "F***".

The native rotated his head violently and rolled his etc and said "F***"!?. Everybody had a good laugh. Lorenzo said "That's a bloody funny accent mate!" and patted the native on the back and gave him a gold coin (actually a copper coin painted gold..)

Everybody laughed. Friendly relations were established.

The natives had a few glasses of Vin Rouge with Lorenzo and his mates...and a few more glasses.... Good stuff this! Better than Ra! said the natives..Yes! we will take you to our leader (Hic!) they said..but it will be a six day round trip all inclusive..and that will be three gold coins per head..

Guided Tour

Sore heads next morning. Tour guides/touts decide might as well make the most of this.

The capital of the Kotte Kingdom was at Kotte..just six miles down the road. In fact, if he had been sober, the lookout in the crow's nest of Lorenzo's ship would have been able to see Kotte because there were no skyscrapers around the harbour then.....

The touts take the Portuguese by a circuitous route taking several days.....Lorenzo is impressed by the size of the country..Takes three days to get from bloody Colombo to bloody Kotte!..he thinks.

Lorenzo gets on well with the King. Says "Nice kingdom you've got! Look me up if ever you are in Lisbon, mate!"

Comes back to Colombo and gets his men to carve the Portuguese coat of arms on a large granite rock. Sets up a trading post. Recruits local labour. Things work while for a bit. Locals like the foreign currency! Set up Foreign Exchange booths. The price of everything goes up. Brisk trading on the Srilankan Stock Exchange. Good fun all round!

Can you hear the drums, Fernando?

Catholic missionaries arrive and put an end to the fun. Go about "converting" everybody. Build churches..Force the drunken Portuguese sailors to attend mass..Natives impressed by this..They serve wine at mass?!.. Free?!.....Might as well go for mass in the morning and then go to the tavern at night!.. No you can't, you need to be baptised first! Just needs water and a few prayers! Painless!

A local tribe by the name of Warnakulasuriya, fishermen by trade and of the Karawe caste, are the first to join up. Take on the new name of FERNANDO...become violently Catholic...Others follow..Soon there are Pereras, de Silvas and de Almeidas.

The Portuguese build a fort at Colombo....Still known as Colombo Fort. They build more forts and churches at Kalutara and Galle. Portuguese now control the maritime areas...........to be continued....

The Best of Crazylanka

2012-03-19T09:57:00.000-07:00

Crazylanka.com

Crazylanka.com was first launched on the 1st of August 2002. Before that, it existed as Gyan's Madpage.

In recent times, Crazylanka has been dormant but we thought that some of the hilarious material was worth another look!

So here we go!

Coconutoons™

Coconutoons™ ran in the Daily Pol-Thel for a few issues until the jokes ran a bit thin. We also ran out of amusing images of coconuts...Still. They were fun! Feel free to copy and distribute them.

The idea then, was to humanize coconuts, one of the main products of Sri Lanka, and make socio-political commentary.