It’s strange how the world shifts when we choose to observe it with intention. The same place we pass by every day, that barely earns a glance, suddenly blooms into a story when we decide to truly see. I often find that my notebook fills with scribbles before I even reach the destination. That’s what happened the day we planned our outing; not just with a boomer, but with a boomer who’s with us.
I texted Chamara the night before, told him to dress sporty. We were heading into adventure, not an audit. Of course, he never saw the message. Classic. But there he was anyway, showing up looking surprisingly sharp in a brand-new T-shirt, ditching his usual “dad at work” attire. At work, Chamara’s something of a legend: the charmer, maybe the only one. But that day, he looked like he belonged to our generation, not stuck in the ’80s where his playlists usually live.
But those are shoes none of us are meant to try on. That kind of sorrow lives in its own silence. I whispered a prayer in my mind; I hope you’re at peace. We all do.
Our first stop was the Lotus Tower, a place Chamara had visited more times than I had, though I promised him this time it wouldn’t be the same. I made my entrance by not shutting the van door properly, it flung open mid-turn, setting the tone. The driver didn’t quite warm to me after that. Understandably. The marketing team at the Colombo Lotus Tower had been kind enough to arrange everything with almost no notice, thanks to Mr. Nirojan, the marketing manager.
We first made our way into Pixel Bloom, the digital art museum nestled on the ground floor of the Lotus Tower. Entry was simple and affordable: Rs. 350 for adults and Rs. 200 for children. But what we got in return was something far more layered than a simple walkthrough. The entire space, divided into seven immersive zones, was designed not just for viewing but for participation.
It began with an Introduction Screen that offered an informative overview of the Colombo Lotus Tower, a quiet moment before the whirlwind. Then we stepped into Colombo Chronicles, where animated visuals traced the city’s origins and journey with a nostalgic, almost cinematic charm. In Beyond the Map, a cartoon-style video brought the must-visit places of Colombo to life with gentle humour and bright colours.
The WNL Social Media Team and The Sun Team
Pixel Kaleido offered interactive buttons that lit up with music and visuals, a sensory playground that felt like we were making the room breathe. The Flutter Scape was slower, softer. Videos rolled over the walls like waves, wrapping us in a kind of digital lullaby. But it was Neon Jungle that made everyone smile, especially the children. Each tile we stepped on triggered an animal to appear and move on the screens around us, the floor becoming a kind of storybook meadow. Finally, Pixel Fusion awaited, with motion sensors that transformed our movements into ever-changing digital patterns. We laughed, watching our shadows ripple into light.
For me, what was unexpected was Chamara. He, who had once played cricket in the ’80s and often teased us about our digital obsessions, found himself fully immersed. He was mesmerized, curiously tapping, watching, responding to the installations with quiet delight.
Sure, he had opinions (as he always does), little suggestions on how the experience could be enhanced. But underneath all that was a rare kind of wonder.
And then we headed to the dock. The view that day wasn’t what we had imagined, the sky hung low and grey, clouds muddling the edges of the city skyline. Still, the staff did their best, guiding us gently, keeping spirits warm even when the wind wasn’t. But that space, shadowed and quiet, brought with it something heavier, the memory of a little girl who, not long ago, had stood there, facing a decision that changed everything.
I found myself thinking about her strength, wondering if it could’ve carried her just a bit further. But those are shoes none of us are meant to try on. That kind of sorrow lives in its own silence. I whispered a prayer in my mind; I hope you’re at peace. We all do.
Chamara
Even the air seemed to pause there. People walked more slowly, more mindfully, and nobody lingered too close to the fence. Chamara, always aware, noticed the shift in me. He nudged me gently and said, “Now don’t go there. It happened. That’s not yours to carry.” It’s something he does for all of us, these reality checks, small anchors when we drift too far in thought. He doesn’t say much, but when he does, it lands.
The Lotus Tower has had its fair share of criticism and celebration. When it was first announced, people debated its purpose, its cost, its politics. But now, seeing it etched into every other photo that floats across our feeds, glowing pink, lit up green, brushing the clouds like a glass tulip, it’s hard to deny how much it’s become part of our landscape. It’s a strange, ornamental pride. I told Chamara that too, that beauty like this always comes with a cost. That sometimes, even symbols aren’t innocent. He looked at me with his half-smile and told me I wasn’t allowed to give any more opinions for the rest of the day.
Still laughing over that, we found ourselves magnetically pulled toward the claw machine. It stood there, sparkling, predatory, daring us. We’d like to believe we “tripped” into playing, but the truth is we fed it, one Rs. 100 note after another. A couple more followed. And still, we didn’t win. Rigged, obviously. I turned around to see Chamara grinning wide, dying to say, “I told you so.”
Our next stop was the highlight for Gayantha, the one who basically instigated this entire outing. He’d been sending pictures of this place to our “Adventures with the Boomer” group chat for weeks; Laser Tag. Chamara didn’t flinch. He’d been waiting for this. His ego was ready to outshine.
The staff were wonderfully clear with their instructions. We suited up, the gear clinking into place like we were stepping into battle. Before we began, everyone turned to me and said, “If you get knocked out, just don’t break anything, or throw hands on us.” Which is, of course, exactly what happened. I lost, flailed, and threw a minor punch in protest. But Raksha, Tharindu, Gayantha, Pathum, and Chamara; they were naturals.
Chamara and Thaliba
What surprised me most was Chamara again. For someone who used to mock our digital obsessions, he’s surprisingly adapted. He ran, ducked, strategised like a pro. Though he quit halfway, claiming, “I’ll let you kids win,” I definitely saw him leaning against the wall, catching his breath. And yet, I still wonder if sometimes he sits with his evening chai, watching it all shift around him, and wonders how it happened so fast.
That was our adventure for the day, filled with pixels, laughter, reflections, and the ever-grounding presence of a man who was once just a boomer. But now? He’s one of us. We’ll be back on the road soon, chasing another story, possibly one with crocodiles, and toddlers who need guarding. But that’s for another day.
The Lotus Tower has had its fair share of criticism and celebration. When it was first announced, people debated its purpose, its cost, its politics
