Being the chief of police of the department of notorious vagabonds was not a task for the faint-hearted. Especially when it involved nabbing the ever so clever and on-the-run A.A.Mir. It was through his discreet sources that Smith saw the shimmer of an opportunity to lay his hands upon this master of deception and put him behind bars. Until he once again talked his way out of prison. Smith reached in his pocket and let out a sigh of carelessness. His fingers touched nothing but the insides of his uncreased blue uniform trousers.
A.A.Mir, on the other hand, was spending greens and goldens and yellows from a wallet that bore the driving license of a certain Smith. He had already contacted the hotels in Sri Lanka whose key cards he had conveniently found in the deepest corners of the ever brimming wallet. A new set of key cards, bearing his credentials, would be waiting for him at the receptions of the respective hotels. Only one thing remained constant in the entire contact details form. The Credit Card Number.
Smith snatched up one of his other wallets, too lazy to check below the sofa where he would frequently drop and brush aside his wallets. With 2 minutes to go for the taxi to the airport to arrive, he quickly stashed some cash into his wallet, grabbed his passport and made his way down. The Sri Lankan hotels could be commanded to give him a new set of card keys. It doesn’t happen everyday that you hand over your key cards to pay bills at restaurants instead of credit cards. Or so, Smith would claim.
The blue skies of Colombo showered blissful sunlight over our hero A.A.Mir, who found the pleasant 30 degrees Celcius a great relief from Chennai’s blistering prickly heat. He put on the jacket. He took it off. With not a shortage of Sri Lankan rupees to spend he had a sumptuous breakfast, complete with parathas, spicy curries and an overly sweet and milky tea. Oh yeah, this all he had with a few mates that he had recently befriended as soon he stepped out of Bandaranaike International Airport.
Our poor bandit-chaser Smith seemed to be followed by curses right from his taxi ride in Chennai. The taxi driver simply didn’t know that the metro construction work in Chennai would have engulfed a few roads leading to the airport. You need to have got onto the wrong paths at least thrice to reach the airport at 1:00 a.m. The flight that Smith was to catch had landed in Comombo at 12 midnight. The next available flight had its scheduled pilot engaged in another previous flight that was caught up in bad weather. An exhausted and sleep deprived Smith finally touched Colombo at 9:00 a.m. He was stopped by the Sri Lankan police for public display of his pistol. Too bad his official police identity was lying in A.A.Mir’s pocket, who was now on his way to Beruwala.
The Cinnamon Bey had its arms extended over a wide portion of the beach. And vast open spaces drove A.A.Mir into a photo-clicking frenzy. The road to Cinnamon Bey was along the Sri Lankan coast and was dotted with little shops, two story homes, tourists and coconut vendors. A.A.Mir found himself indecisive about whether to wear the blue beach shorts or the blue beach shorts along with sunglasses. He chose the latter. Let Smith spot him now in a tourist filled country full of beach shorts and fancy hats.
I thank all the amazing people that I made this incredible journey with for the pictures.
It almost seems as if our hero A.A.Mir has been basking on Sri Lankan sands only to have his journey documented. You don’t see a lovable runaway vagabond spread cheer and joy everyday! Or do you?
Stay tuned to catch more of his antics in the coming days.