I heard . I saw. I thought

“120/Kmph “was noted on the dashboard. My eyes moved between the big numbers of the speedometer. He was super-fast. Was quite steady in driving.  A jump into the Thai tollway was breathtaking. I liked the way the highways interspersed from one another which took me higher and higher. The tall buildings that pierced through was a stunning picture. After one hour’s drive, he stopped me in front of a Medical Center. But it wasn't the place I wanted to go to. Several times I told him that I need to go to Rang sit. Instead he was pointing at the building and was jabbering in Thai. For some time I was staring at him. I ended up with little gags for myself.  I found him smiling gently at me. At times not being able to talk the same language or not being able to understand an outsider can boil one’s veins until it give away bubbles. I knew the way I had come was wrong but he did not. But my android was left for something better.

I googled a few pictures of the Bangkok University in Rang Sit. That’s where my dorm was. I drew my phone at him. A careful look at the pictures made him realize the place I wanted to go. He suddenly came up with a big “OOooh” along with a laugh. He was too humble enough to admit that he had driven me a long way to somewhere else.  I was quite surprised to see a taxi driver not knowing places by their names. Or was it that my pronunciation sounded weird?  The question recurred in my mind until I got off the taxi. It would be funny to take away tourists to unknown places, to give them some adrenaline hypes and fear them like hell. I remember someone  telling me that Thai taxi drivers would make fun out of tourists at times by circulating them in the same route just to make the distance long . And the interesting thing is outsiders could hardly notice it unless one is capable of positioning the buildings around carefully.

There was something very SriLankan except for the wide and complicated highways. The vehicles drew with much discipline on the toll ways. But not on the normal road. Twice I met with angry drivers who often blamed drivers around him. Even did they try to drive fast as they could and hit the gears on ground vigorously. So an average Toyota car would even turn into a GT-R in seconds.

Once I made several phone calls to Thilina ayya , a friend of mine ,to get to one of the offices in Colombo. He went on describing buildings with colors. Most often we don’t remember the names of the streets. It’s more like that we don’t bother or make effort to remember every crap we see. Rather we would draw lines with colors, pictures or posters which can be identified easily. The journey alone to Khaosarn in Central Bangkok was a haywire. I stopped at many tuk- tuk’s and taxi drivers to ask directions to my hotel. Nobody gave me the proper details. A Policeman that my eyes caught was my next thought.” Go straight, count ten buildings to your right from here. Turn to your right once you reach the tenth. Pass a few shops that sell Chinese products. You will see board names with Chinese characters. Then you’ll get dirty building with a 7-eleven. Cross the road to your left. You will see your hotel “, the Policeman said .This is how most of the Sri Lankans give directions. People differ from place to place but sayings and doings can reflect a part of our homes sometimes. It’s gladdening.

It’s not the name, the address or the number that matters us most of the time. It’s the shape, the color, or the appearance of a person that sticks with us more often. And even the memories joint with certain towns, cities or any specific place make us remember things well.  The policeman made me realize that pictures talk, pictures dance, they form into different shapes just to make us not forget things. Even the minions we see. Life is not logic or numbers. There are things to be sensed with picture or beauty. Even ugly things play their part.

I’m now back home after 45 days of stay in Thailand. I could still recall the way to my hotel. I bet I could give directions to someone else even staying at home.

Somethings are fixed and memorable. Even hard to remove with a little glue.

(Published in " The Nation " in early March 2014)