Cure

When people ask me about my plans for the next day, I usually do not know. After I wake up I decide. Today I felt like moving on. I had to decide between Adam's Peak and Ella, both in the hills. Ella won because my legs were still sore from the hike of the previous day. I wanted to take the 12.30pm train. Over breakfast the manager of the guest house came up to me and offered a ride in one of his cars. Knowing that this will cost a lot more money than the train, I smiled at him and declared that I could probably not afford. 'Oh, just give whatever you think.' Though I really wanted to take the train - the views were meant to be even more spectacular - I shrugged my shoulders and said why not. Then he hesitated and said '1,000 Rs, it's okay?' I smiled again and reminded him that he had just offered me to give as much as I wanted after the trip. I spoke to the driver for a while and got ready for the departure at 12.30pm.

At 12.20pm, the manager came up to me saying that there is a slight problem. I smiled in anticipation for the not-so-good news. 'The car is broken down and they are trying to fix it.' Okay, I thought, maybe a delay of 1 to 2 hours. 'We may not be able to fix it today.', he added. What? I thought of my train that was leaving in just that moment. What are my options? 'Option 1: You can stay here another night.' Not an option, I had already packed. 'Option 2: You take the train at 4pm.' At this moment, I was kicking myself for not having sticked to my original plan. It wasn't so bad that the car drive did not work out, but the fact that I would arrive after dark and that the people from this guest house really didn't care. I left way in time for the next train. The ticket counter in Nanu Oya was closed, so I knocked on the window. 'Tickets 3.30' was the response. I was fed up, just wanted to leave. The train was late too. I boarded with a grim face.

The people around me were not smiling either. That's it, a really bad day. When I looked in their eyes, they stared back with an empty look, especially the women. Strange, I thought, spoiled by the otherwise never-ending warm looks. I stuck my nose in the book, trying to ignore everything else. Then, something funny happened: A man and his kid on the other end of the compartment were hectically searching for something. They settled without success. Few minutes later, I felt something touching my toes. A big yellow fruit. I had seen the kid playing with it before. I picked it up and brought it to the little boy. He looked at me and gave me the biggest smile. I literally felt my heart melting and had no choice but to smile back. Then the father added an even bigger smile. When I returned to my seat, the look in the women's eyes around me had changed. The soft brown eyes looked content and they nodded at each other, then shared their endless smiles. Finally, everything was in balance again. What had seemed almost hostile a few minutes ago had turned into a welcoming world of warmth. And the key to their smiles rested with me.*


* This was the moment I remembered the words of the receptionist in Anuradhapura. I made a pact with myself to greet annoyance with a smile, at least as long as I am in this beautiful country.