By Rtr. Haneef

If you think being a Rotaractor is all about professional development and fancy meetings, you clearly haven’t spent 48 hours with my buddies. Our trip to Jaffna wasn’t just a journey, it was a test of endurance, stomach capacity, and our ability to annoy the general public. It all started on a Friday night at Racecourse. While the rest of Colombo was probably having a “chill” evening, we were lugging bags and screaming at each other. I jumped into the bus, and honestly, the vibes were 10/10 immediately. Why? Because Aflah’s mom is Sweet. She sent us home-cooked food for everyone but we definitely missed her kebabs.

Once the bellies were full, the karaoke started. But, as usual, the “energy” lasted exactly a few hours before everyone fell asleep. I spent my time clicking some truly “beautiful” snaps of my buddies sleeping with their mouths open. I really missed my Lymol this time. There’s no joy like waking someone up with a stinging minty surprise on their lips. Eventually, I also dozed off quite irresponsibly. We hit a quick pit stop for tea (essential for the soul) and rolled into Gaja Rest by morning. We were greeted by an “energetic” (read: questionable) welcome dance by Ilham. It was an “exclusive for the boys” performance that I’m still trying to unsee.

The Club Service team, bless their hearts, served us lunch, and we were all hyped for pool time. Then, the Jaffna clouds decided to be not in our favor. The rain absolutely destroyed our day-out plans. But Rotaractors are nothing if not resourceful (or just desperate for entertainment). Some genius suggested we watch Parasakthi. What started as a small group of 10 morphed into a 36 person invasion of the local mall. Before the movie, we spent way too much time gambling with vending machines like they were high stakes casinos. Inside the theater? Let’s just say we were the loudest bunch there. Afterward, we found ourselves stranded with no transport back. While waiting for Dilan to rescue us, we took a walk for tea and stuffed ourselves with baby crabs and pittu for Dinner later.

Back at the rest house, it was time to party. Amaan Zaahid dropped a bomb playlist, but the real showstopper was Imaz. The man literally stole the spotlight. I don’t know if it was the crabs or the playlist, but his moves were illegal in at least three provinces. Eventually, it was lights out or so we thought. The next morning, the boys decided that alarms are for losers. They used Mahdi’s jukebox as a wakeup call. Trust me, no alarm can beat a speaker blasting at 100% volume next to your ear. Then came the transformation. We all got into our traditional outfits for the Chunnakam Installation . I turned into a professional draper, helping the boys struggle with their veshtis so they didn’t fall off mid-ceremony. We headed to the Installation where our boy Sanchayan was officially collared. It was a proud moment, though I did spot a few people nodding off during the speeches. The lack of sleep was real.

After the official visit group picture (which took forever because someone is always looking the wrong way), we hit the dance floor one last time. There is nothing like Tamil Kuththu songs to bring out the inner chaos of the Rotaractors. We checked out of Gaja, did the mandatory pilgrimage to Rio Ice Cream (because cannot leave Jaffna without it), and bid sad adios to the North.

Jaffna, you were good.