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Lost and found  

"Give me back my baby or I will die"

By Ranee Mohamed

On the day of the kite festival,              Sunday, September 15, Anusha Geethanjali's most precious thing drifted away from her. Her little son, barely two years of age got lost . It has torn this young woman's heart into shreds and her life seems to be just hanging in there. 

 Little Madushan whose only perennial  request in his tender life was  for a little sip of her breast milk drifted away without his last feed which she could not give because there were too many people around. And it is among those people that her baby wandered and never came back.

At house no. 211/81, Nagalam Vidiya, Colombo 14, is a lane that is crowded with people, ironically it seems to have more little children than adults. Some ran around their mothers, others clung on to them more urgently, clenching their little fists around old clothes. But walk further down, and all one can hear is crying, moaning and pleas to the unknown by a family of adults.

"Give us back our child wails a mother, grandmother and her sister. The telephone keeps ringing. But nobody is calling with good news. They are calls inquiring whether they found their baby. It is a story that will pull at the heartstrings of the strongest. It is any mother's nightmare. Losing a child is hard to bear. Losing a baby, helpless,  hungry, tired and sick is even harder to bear. Little Madushan like all babies needed his mother to cuddle upto. He is her only son, her only baby.

"Whoever took my baby need not be frightened. I do not say that he was wearing gold or had any precious possessions with him. I will not ask any questions. Please come and keep my baby near my home, near by lane, near the police. Or give me a telephone call and tell me where he is and I will come and get him. I will not ask any questions. I will not take any action or do any harm..." goes on Anusha  her hands outstretched in a desperate plea.

Whoever took this baby ought to know that what he needs most is his mother and the warmth of their humble home. Little Dilanka Madushan's family is not rich. "We are 'small' people," they describe themselves. But they did have big plans for  November 15, the second birthday of their only child.

Anusha finds if difficult to talk, but she is anxious to talk to the press and make a plea to the nation. "Find my baby for me or I will die," she cries.

"My baby and I never wanted to go for this kite festival, but my husband insisted that we go there. He seemed angry with me.  So in the evening around 7 I got my baby ready. He wet his pants and I scolded him saying that we will get late and soon changed him and left. We went in a three wheeler. When we reached there the kite festival was over. But there were a crowd at Galle Face green. It was about 8. p.m. My husband and I, and my brother's son and the son of a neighbour sat in a circle and we all played with a big ball that we bought at Galle Face.

My husband bought us all icecream, but we did not give any to our son because he had a bad cold. Then my son kept on begging me to give him some breast milk. But as we could not give him breast milk there in the middle of Galle Face, my husband said that he will buy him an ice cream. He took our baby by his hand and walked toward the icecream vans. At the cement barrier there my husband left him for a split second to pull the money out and buy the ice cream. Anyway, when he had looked again, little Madushan had disappeared.My husband came running to me and asked me whether I  had our son. We both panicked and started running all over looking for our baby. But we could not find him," explained Anusha Geethanjali in tears.

When Madushan walks his left hand remains folded. This is because his father had one day lifted the baby from his hand. This is one way of identifying the baby.

Thereafter Anusha Geethanjali and her husband Susantha Jayalath spent the whole night at Galle Face Green looking for their baby. They had run to the three wheelers, asked the icecream sellers and finally gone to the police.

It is time that the police and the nation as a whole participated in this search, the search for compassion for this family that lives by a lane heralded by a bo tree.

"We believe in compassion. I believe in the Buddha dhamma. I spend my time in meditation and the Lord Buddha has warned us of suffering in this life. But this kind of suffering we just cannot bear," said Rohini. She is praying. The whole family is busy going to soothsayers and giving poojas at temples and prayers in churches. As we talk someone brings a thambilli  (king coconut) and a yellow garland. They want to go to the nearby kovil to make a vow.  "We have not harmed anybody. Why did they take our baby away," is their tearful question.

We also ought to ask the frightening question: "For what did they take this baby away?" There are many equally agonising answers. We have heard stories of  selling babies for adoption, and even more gruesome stories of paedophiles, child porn and organ robberies.

For those who believe in thinking, it is time to think. For those who believe in praying it is time to pray and for those who believe in action, it is time to act.

As human beings our thoughts ought to go to this little baby who may even at this moment be crying for his mother. Perhaps we can spend half of this Sunday doing something for this family in agony by looking out for Madushan who is believed to be in the vicinity of the city of Colombo, perhaps in Slave Island. We owe it to humanity to be on the lookout for this child.

So, if we see a strange baby in a childless family, a lost baby among foreigners, perhaps a baby like Madushan in a hospital, we ought to look twice. For in that way we may be able to relieve the heartbreak of a poor woman who has lost her most precious possession.

It is time we opened our eyes to this touching story of two people who need each other most, but whose bonding has been coldly ripped apart on the way to buy the baby an icecream. 

Everybody says that it is not nice to beg. But at this juncture we ought to beg the people who took this baby away to please return Baby Madushan.

Whoever took this baby ought to return him to his mother for that is where he belongs.

I do not want anything more in life...

It was Thursday morning. For Anusha, it was another morning of tears after a sleepless miserable night. "My throat was hurting, my head was dizzy and I was losing the will to live," said Anusha, when the telephone call came. It was from an unknown person in the vicinity of Veyangoda. The caller said that a baby who looked like Madushan had been found by the police. The caller was a parent who understood Anusha's agony.

Anusha's first reaction was to run crying to the first vehicle in sight. "Take me to Veyangoda," she begged, tears of relief and joy streaming down her face, washing away the tears of sadness that she had wept for four long days and nights. And she had not eaten a square meal for four days. But this morning she seemed ready to conquer the world. Full of energy, she ran hither thither screaming. The only destination in her heart was Veyangoda.

At 10 a.m. the family thronged into a van in a big hurry. It seemed as if they were going to heaven. Such was their joy. Rohini, Anusha's mother was loud in her emotions. If her faith in the Buddha dhamma was strong then, it was stronger now. "I told you I have not harmed anybody. I knew that we will get back our precious child," were her words of relief.

From Grandpass to Veyangoda they drove, Anusha crying all the way, anxious and impatient to see her baby.

OIC of the Veyangoda police, IP S.B. Diyakelinawala least expected what began at Galle Face Green in Colombo to climax in Veyangoda. But it is the way the cookie crumbles. Life is full of strange quirks.

When the Veyangoda police received a telephone call from a youth in Katuwasgoda that there was a child resembling Madushan in a house living with a father and a mother, the police were quick to rush to the scene. The police team led by OIC Diyakelinawala acted as fast as lightening. It is worth mentioning that this team deserves the highest commendation. OIC Diyakelinawala rushed to the scene with SI Dimbikotuwa, SI Indika, PC 17093 Jayaratna and P.C. 38665.

On inquiries made they found that the unhappy baby in the house was Madushan and the man in the house was Madushan's father. The lady in the house however was an alleged 'girl friend' of Madushan's father. It was later revealed that the whole disappearance was staged. Madushan's father and his girlfriend had acquired a house on rent in this area about a month ago. They had prepared to bring this baby home because she did not have children. It has been revealed that the whole operation was planned for over a month.

Baby Madushan's first greeting to his mother was 'amma' as he clung on to her breast for the feed he had missed for four days. It was the most joyous bonding - that of mother and baby. After over one and half years, it was as if he was born again...

He understood genuine grievances

Anuradhapura Satyagraha was one of the most memorable events of that period. The government alarmed by the success of the UNP's political campaign banned the satyagraha. The order banning the satyagraha was to be served on Mr. Jayewardene and Mr. Premadasa as the leader and the deputy leader of the party. The price of non-compliance included confiscation of property.

We were all staying at the Tissa Rest House the night before and we heard that the police were going to come to the rest house to serve the banning order. There was a discussion as to how to avoid it - I think it was held at a nearby school. Finally Mr. Premadasa said that he is going to go somewhere to avoid being served the banning order. So we left. Mr. Jayewardene and his people remained behind and were given the order by the police that evening.

The problem before us was how to keep Mr. Premadasa out of the reach of the police who were on the look out for him. One of the high court judges in Anuradhapura was a friend of mine (he is now deceased). His official bungalow was within the sacred city. We kept Mr. Premadasa there till nightfall. But we still had to go back to the rest- house to spend the night and we knew the police would be waiting for us outside. Therefore the plan was to disguise Mr. Premadasa. Accordingly we dressed him in a coat and a thalappawa and brought him to the rest-house in the night in a car. The cops waiting outside stopped the car but they did not recognise Mr. Premadasa.    

Mr. Premadasa's plan was to come to the venue of the satyagraha - the Ruwanweliseya - in the morning at the appointed time and therefore he had to avoid being served the ban. So he dressed himself like a person observing sil, all in white and covered his head with a white cloth. The police were all over the place, on the look out for him. But they did not recognise him. He walked calmly up to the Ruwanweliseya, sat near a stone column and started reading a book. The police were all around but they did not think that this pilgrim and the Mr. Premadasa they were looking for were one and the same person. Frankly if I did not see him getting into this costume I would not have recognised him myself.

It was a very tense few minutes. We, his people, were walking around and hoping that nothing would go wrong. I still remember how calm he was. Many of the policemen were waiting close to me; SP Chandra Perera kept on coming and talking to me; I think they knew that I would not be far away from Mr. Premadasa. So there we were the police and the satyagrahis, all waiting for Mr. Premadasa. As the appointed time approached I could see him standing up and slowly moving towards the venue of the satyagraha. He was playing his part so well that the policemen who were getting very anxious still failed to spot him. So the plan succeeded and at the appointed time, Mr. Premadasa was at the venue; he took off the white cloth on his head and both the police and the satyagrahis recognised him. The police gave him the order banning the satyagraha and he tore it up without even reading it. It was a moment of triumph.  

I remember another interesting incident from that time. That was during the by-election of Baddegama. The UNP's candidate was a man called Podi Ralahamy who incidentally was the father of Franciscu of Southern Provincial Council fame. We were supposed to address several meetings during this campaign. One day we set off to Baddegama in my car and the car broke down in Panadura. Then we called Colombo and got down Mr. Premadasa's Morris Oxford; that also broke down closer to Baddegama. We then managed to get a lift in a passing van. By the time we got to the venue, the meeting was over. I remember Mr. Premadasa saying that luck was against us in that election. And surprisingly enough we lost that by-election.

Believed in grievances

One of the main themes of Mr. Premadasa's speeches during this period was the '71 insurrection. What he saw and heard during this period had a profound impact on him. He believed in the genuine nature of the grievances of the young people - as he did in the 1987-89 period. That was why after the defeat of the second JVP insurgency, he appointed the youth commission to go into the grievances and recommend remedial action. His problem on both occasions was the method of struggle adopted by the young people. I remember that the killing of Premawathie Manamperi was one of the incidents that moved him deeply. That was why he was so reluctant to unleash the armed forces on the JVP after he became president - because he knew from the experience of '71 what would happen. As a result he did everything he could to arrive at a negotiated solution, even to the point of evading his responsibility as the elected leader of the country. 

He was similarly sympathetic towards the young Tamil rebels, though there too he did not agree with their methods. Contrary to what some people thought at that time, he was never anti-Tamil. He could not have been, given his background and the nature of his political base. Colombo Central had a large Tamil population and the majority of these people were our supporters. And unlike most Sinhala politicians Mr. Premadasa could speak in Tamil.

He understood that these people had genuine grievances. He was opposed to standardisation; he felt it was unnecessary, wrong and damaging. He also felt it was unjust because it amounted to depriving many students with a better claim of a chance to higher education. He was also opposed to the post-1956 language policy. Perhaps he did not fully understand the dangers of Sinhala Only initially. But very soon he realised how divisive and dangerous it was. He used to say that this policy introduced ethnic divisions right into the school system itself. That was why he used to mention his experience at St. Joseph's of how children of different ethnic groups used to study and play together.

I remember he had a great liking for Mr. S.J.V. Chelvanayagam. He felt that Mr. Chelvanayagam was a leader who cared about his people. He was also very friendly with Mr. Amirthalingam.

Mr. Premadasa believed that the best solution to the ethnic problem was a system of grama rajya. He believed in autonomy, of the right of the people to decide their own affairs. He believed in decentralisation down to very small units. He felt that village councils and town councils were not viable units and introduced the pradesheeya sabha system instead. He did not believe in large units such as provincial or district councils because he thought they led to concentration of power once again, away from the people.

To be continued next week

By Sonali Samarasinghe

Eleven rules for life

My sister makes people take their shoes off. Before you blanch, wait. Not when she meets them in the supermarket, but when she encounters them on her doorstep, waiting eagerly to pop in. A Korean would applaud her methods with cultural approval.

Many a times and oft as I walk out of the inner chambers, on my frequent weekend overnighters in her home, I am surprised to find a motley group of visitors blinking expectantly in the foyer. Waiting. In their naked feet, toes curled inwards politely.

Hail or sunshine (and winter in Canberra lingers on for some nine months), before the human perambulations on her spotless white carpet the footwear must come off at the vestibule. Consider then the plight of one of my sister's good friends from ole Blighty.

A large proportioned fella called Tom. Lives in the country most of his life but makes occasional forays into the urban areas to visit a few friends in order to partake of a hearty meal. Thus it is that he is often seen at my sis and her hubby Ro's place. Nonetheless, protocol must be observed, as in the courts of Mandalay in classical Burma.

There, issues of protocol often seemed more important than those of power and the Burmese, (as much as the British who probably didn't like it at all) attached great importance to the question of whether or not foreigners should wear shoes in the presence of the king.

In 1886 the British may have conquered the proud court of Mandalay, but the off-with-the-shoe habit never wore off. There was Tom on one such visit, as if he were in Mandalay in 1885, taking his shoes off before entering sis Indi's home. There he was, coyly peeling off his nethermost wear and promptly standing on one foot.

Silent observer

Then in a surprise move, he danced for awhile on his tippy toes. Since we thought this hopping around to be some quaint Scottish/Irish trot, or some preliminary custom he might have picked up in the mother country on one of his rare visits, we took no notice. However,It was hard to ignore that Tom, usually a warm and vigorous conversationalist was rather silent throughout the social event.

A multitude of about ten had gathered around to partake of the loaves and fishes but not many words fell trippingly off the tongue of this proud Englishman. It was harder to ignore the fact that he had curled his large left ankle rather sadly around his right ankle and had tucked his left toes under his right heel.

When I tell you that the man stands over six feet five in his socks and is more or less built along the size of the Titanic you will no doubt begin to get an idea of the enormity of his person. A visual image of such a man curling his ankles around like a coquettish school girl, will enable you to understand a little of the alarm a few of the more observant guests uneasily harboured in their respective bosoms.

I mean to say it was bally ridiculous. But you can't very well tell a guest of yours to stop playing with his feet. It would be rude and insensitive. In order to be helpful, Ro announced loudly at intervals that the toilet was just around the corner if anybody was interested. To no avail. Days later, Tom was to confide in Ro, that his awkwardness at the dinner was due to the fact he had a large hole in his sock and didn't want his toe sticking out like the great white whale.

Forwarded messages

But on to other things. My dear old school friend and young doctor-in-the-house Sandy forwarded to me an e-mail I thought was rather nifty and which I reproduce below. When I spoke to her strongly about this habit of hers of frequently sending me forwarded rather than personalised messages, she merely sent me another forwarded message as to why forwarded messages are not so bad after all.

As she says, it's not the content, it's the thought that counts. Fair enough. Here then are eleven rules for life not taught in schools and listed by Bill Gates in a speech to a high school in California. (1) Life is not fair - get used to it (2) The world won't care about your self-esteem. The world will expect you to accomplish something BEFORE you feel good about yourself. (3) You will NOT make $40,000 a year right out of high school.

You won't be a vice-president with a car phone until you earn both. (4) If you think your teacher is tough, wait till you get a boss. (5) Flipping burgers is not beneath your dignity. Your grandparents had a different word for burger flipping-they called it opportunity. (6) If you mess up, it's not your parents' fault, so don't whine about your mistakes, learn from them. (7) Before you were born, your parents weren't as boring as they are now.

They got that way from paying your bills, cleaning your clothes and listening to you talk about how cool you are. So before you save the rain forest from the parasites of your parents' generation, try delousing the closet in your own room. (8) Your school may have done away with winners and losers, but life has not. In some schools, they have abolished failing grades and they'll give you the test as many times as you want to get the right answer. This doesn't bear the slightest resemblance to ANYTHING in real life. (9) Life is not divided into semesters. You don't get summers off and very few employers are interested in helping you find yourself. Do that on your own time. (10) Television is NOT real life. In real life people actually have to leave the coffee shop and go to jobs. (11) Be nice to nerds. Chances are you'll end up working for one.

Handbook for children: Silence is not always Golden

By Shehara Samarasinghe

When you are a par-ent you will un-derstand." How often do parents utter these words, in an attempt to produce some sort of finality in an argument? There is no better way to emerge triumphant from a disagreement than to put oneself on a superior plane; one's opinions become revered facts and opposing voices are diminished due to one's unassailable position. The use of such verbal devices is not necessarily devious - after all, a parent can often see what a child cannot -yet the ease with which parental superiority ends any discussion is not always desirable.

Judging parenting skills

How can somebody who is not a parent, like myself, have the audacity to give parents advice or indeed judge them on their parenting skills? Very easily, because whilst everybody is not a parent, everybody is a child and the role of the latter has been ignored for too long. Parents receive countless pieces of advice on how to handle their enormous responsibility but children are issued passive roles. They are told to listen, to behave, to conform and to obey, although none of these commands will help them to become independent individuals, which is no doubt what their parents wish. Last week I discussed the issue of over-ambitious parents, of those who put too much trust in 'parenting trends' instead of relying on their instincts. With high expectations and a bursting timetable, a child's own desire to learn can be hampered - it knows only how to copy and memorise. Most doctors agree that 50% of reading problems are the result of teaching children how to read too early! Children are not normally ready to begin reading until they are six and a half, around the time when they start getting permanent teeth, but increasingly parents attempt to equip them with reading skills and basic mathematical skills such as counting before they begin their schooling. If forced before they are ready, children develop an aversion to these skills and can be disadvantaged.

Parents do all of this with the right intentions. The days of 'laissez-faire' child rearing are over. A 100 years ago families were large and households included the extended family- grandparents, aunts, etc. The responsibility of raising children was shared and often they were left to themselves. Nowadays, due to greater economic security and the availability of birth control devices, people marry later (usually at the end of their education process) and thus they become parents later, when they are more cautious. Families are also more compact than they used to be, meaning that parental efforts are expended in a more concentrated manner. 

Lop-sided society

The shift in the composition of families is nowhere as visible as in China. The Chinese government introduced its one-child policy in 1979 and generally, parents wanted that one child to be a boy. The basic reasoning behind this is that boys would grow up to support their families whereas girls would be taken into their husbands' family, not to mention the dowry her parents would have to cough up. The practice of either aborting female foetuses or killing baby girls, common before 1979, has resulted in a highly unbalanced society: there are 7.4 million single men aged 20-34 and only 454,000 single women in that age bracket. In addition to this, those families that chose not to murder their daughters obviously had no other children and thus lavished upon them. Thus, a high percentage of these young women are comfortably well-off and have received a college education while their numerous (superfluous?) male counterparts are less well educated and of rural origin.

The moral of the story? Parenting is a difficult job that is complicated by the fact that there are no fixed guidelines. What is acceptable in one culture appears barbaric to another-like the disposing of baby girls - and even within one culture the lines are blurred. Take the example of American David Peterson. He was arrested and charged with assault for spanking his five-year-old daughter because she slammed a car door on her brother's fingers. His lawyers argued that a jury should decide the case rather than a judge, their reasoning being that people belonging to the upper classes - like the judge -cherished different beliefs about child rearing and were less likely to use physical force as punishment than members of the lower classes. They claimed that only a jury could decide on the conventions of child discipline accepted by the community.

Parenting is no longer a natural ability.

Indu - The man within

By Marianne David

From childhood, his life has been a contradiction, a non-conformist, within a society that can be suffocatingly conventional indeed - a state of affairs akin to where the mind and the body operate on colliding wavelengths

When you meet Indu Dharmasena these days, he would look at you and smile in a very friendly manner and say, "I'm on the way to realising my dream."

From childhood, his life has been a contradiction, a non-conformist, within a society that can be suffocatingly conventional indeed - a state of affairs akin to where the mind and the body operate on colliding wavelengths.

Indu is wonderful  to talk to. Very open and trusting, he has an almost no-holds-barred approach when it comes to talking about his life and experiences.

Living in a time where drama was not taken seriously enough to dedicate your life to, Indu went to London for three years and completed a degree in mathematics and computer programming.

"Drama was not considered a career option at that time so I needed something to fall back on," he says. His father's sudden death brought him back to Sri Lanka.

"I had a happy childhood, I can't complain. I am much older than my brother and sister. My parents produced a film so I suppose that made me want to write too."

Indu says his parents were very encouraging. "They never told me not to do it, but always encouraged me."

A past pupil of St. Bridget's Convent, Indu took his first steps into the world of drama while still in school, where he acted in a play he wrote himself, for an end-term concert.

"I was encouraged a lot by Yoland Abeyweera whom I consider my guru."

Indu says that he is the one who first started writing in "Singlish" in Sri Lanka adding, "I started writing like that because that's the way we talk anyway. I can see this style catching on a lot now."

"I don't really consider myself a writer. more an entertainer."

At the beginning Indu says he faced a lot of criticism because of his unique style. "The 'English' scholars were not pleased with it but no one had the guts to tell me that to my face. The people who were considered well-established playwrights laughed at people who did not speak English properly."

In his last play, Indu says he is taking a dig at people who do not speak Sinhalese properly.

Society's reaction did not anger him, says Indu, adding that everything depends on the audience and their taste and that he would not have continued if he had gotten discouraged. "You can't expect everybody to like what you do."

He uses this statement to sum up the negative vibes: A critic is like an eunuch - they tell you how it should be done but cannot do it themselves.

"Otherwise they wouldn't be criticising - sour grapes."

Indu also works at an advertising firm where he directs TV commercials amongst other work, and also does some skits for launches, which he finds very interesting.

Describing life, Indu says that while his life in public and private is "not really different," there are "ups and downs" adding, "I look forward to the future."

"I am happy with what I have," he says, continuing, "ambition is good but I find that money motivates people a lot. As long as I have enough to live and eat."

About his plays, Indu says that he enjoys doing them because, "you meet a lot of people and when it comes to training younger people - something I guess I learned through experience - drama gives them a lot of confidence."

He explains that though it is said sports encourages team spirit, he doesn't think so. In a drama, he says, everyone has to work together, covering up mistakes, giving prominence to the person who is supposed to take center stage and sharing everything.

"Sometimes parents tell me their children were very shy before but after taking part in a drama they seem to have blossomed."

"I was at Molly's recently and this boy walked up to me and thanked me for training them saying they won because of me.  When things like that happen you feel like you've really done something."

Indu says that he has written 35 plays so far and says, "Sometimes I laugh and say that if I don't die, I might compete with Shakespeare and write more than he has."

Of his dream, he laughs and says, "to get an Oscar," but  quickly assures that it's just a joke and no serious ambition.

"I don't think there are dreams that can be achieved because when you write about people, you tend to see through them." he trails off.

"I'm building a house in the gallery style with trees in the middle and the house around. Finishing that is one of my dreams.  Maybe I would write a book about my life." he pauses again, and continues enigmatically, "I do have a dream. I'm on my way to achieving it."

What that dream is he would not elaborate, preferring to remain secretive. Maybe after all these years, mind and body have united.

Cricket and babes - a merry combination

By Mandana Ismail Abeywickrema and Shezna Shums

What do international, professional  cricketers do in their spare time? Hop over to the Taj Samudara and be convinced that they keep hitting.

Not the ball, though - in spare time, it so happens  its babe hitting.

This phenomena according to officials is nothing new and not unique only to Sri Lanka, as it happens all over the world. Earlier, people were under the impression that cricketers were more or less mobbed by teenage fans for autographs or a glimpse  of their heroes. It now appears that the females hanging around areas frequented by cricketers expect more than an autograph and in some cases actually receive what they bargain for.

There have been several such incidents which have taken place during the ICC Champions trophy in progress and needless to say, they were discarded as unconfirmed reports.

Speaking to The Sunday Leader, a team official who wished to remain anonymous, explained that there was an incident when a cricketer from a foreign team had brought three girls to take to his room. The MSD officers present had not permitted this player to take his gal pals. After throwing a tantrum, the player had taken his 'friends' to another destination. The official went on to say that a team manager of a foreign team too had done the same thing.

The Sunday Leader was informed by officials handling player arrangements, that after 4.30 in the evening, the lobby area of the hotel is swamped by girls - looking for autographs and more.

The girls' presence and the inviting glances do not go unrecognised. More often than not it is two way traffic.

The Sunday Leader witnessed an internationally recognised Sri Lankan bowler at his best when he suggestively remarked, "Hi babe," to a 'sexily'  dressed girl. Giving the girl the top to bottom stare, our man was not totally interested in bowling a maiden.

And even female journalists got a taste of things.

 Cricketers from an African country asked a Leader journalist to go out partying at night, while another came out with some suggestive remarks to another journalist.

When inquiries were made from security officials as to whether there have been any reports of cricketers taking those from the opposite sex to their rooms, they said that it could not happen this time as the security was very high. Only the players were allowed to go to their rooms and no one else even accompanied by the players was permitted to enter the rooms.

The Sunday Leader spoke to an official from the MSD unit deployed at the hotel premises.  He said that the officers are on duty 24 hours a day. This official said they have had absolutely no problems with the cricketers or with them trying to take any girls to their rooms.

He stated that there were many 'fans' that came to meet the cricketers, they took pictures and got their autographs but that was it.

When asked if there were any faces that he noticed, who were all the time in the hotel or trying to get close to a player he said there were no such cases and that he didn't notice anybody or persons in particular who were hanging around the hotel.

All 12 teams are in the same hotel so there are about 225 players and officials. The MSD's denial however did not tally with The Sunday Leader's own experience.

Former managers of the Sri Lanka cricket team told The Sunday Leader that women and cricketers go hand in hand. "It happens all over the world."

They were however quick to point out that the players themselves have come to realise that if 'babe hitting'  was to get top priority, then it was their careers that were at stake. "They themselves have realised that from 9 am to 6 pm they are doing a professional job."

One Sri Lankan star who found it impossible to sleep, came to realise that his body needed the rest if he were to become a top bracket player. He now makes sure that he gets sufficient sleep.