Postcards From Sri Lanka: Fanta

A feeling of melancholy washes over her; the notes of a once favourite song invade her ears from a passing car on the road. She is seated under a ceiling fan in a poorly ventilated cafe on the side of the road, trapped in a reverie unable to come to terms with the sudden surge of emotions that are whirling about inside her. Finally she gives in. Trishaws buzz by, the horn of a truck blares. Beads of condensation on the bottle in front of her drip down in a steady stream.

She always preferred to drink out of a glass bottle.

Although she sits there in stillness she has been transported to another time and another place, a summer passed away. Eyes are open wide but she sees nothing. Her ridiculously inappropriate shoes don’t stop her from feeling the coolness of the earth, under her bare feet she is being tickled by the green blades of grass. The taste of fruit punch from a home-made popsicle lingers in her mouth. The red kind. She is eight again, sitting under the shade of the big maple tree on her front lawn. A copy of ‘Where the Red Fern Grows’ from the public library has been cast aside carelessly beside her. A self-congratulatory smile plays on her lips as she turns her gaze towards the other end of the street. Her brother (who had been playing baseball all afternoon) drinks thirstily from a bottle of water like someone who had been lost in the desert for days. He drinks greedily, completely unaware of the fact that she has backwashed into the bottle.

“Mind if I take a sip?” he asks, breaking her out of her reverie. The noise of the street fills her ears, the air is heavy with the smell of diesel oil once again.
“Here, you can have the rest,” she said picking up the bottle and taking a quick sip.
“Thanks.”

She is eight again and a smile plays on her lips.

Fanta from glass bottles were never meant to be shared. Her brother is again blissfully unaware.

Not much is really going on. It’s the weekend and I think I’m going to bum around. And no, I’ll never reveal to you the song from above. One hint though, think Salt ‘n’ Pepper. Remember, they never play any good music here.