I saw a belly dancing monkey on the Wesak day.
And Wesak is so bloody noisy this time.
Wesak has come to be a regular commotion of vehicle honking, annoying voices reciting ridiculous pseudo-Buddhist kavi (honestly, they are atrocious), silencerless motorbikes whirring about like irritating mosquitoes, the same old Mohideen Beg songs repeated over and over again till they are stuck in your head like a bad joke gone sour, dansal opening hullabaloo, wolf whistles, those tiny little bells of kadala carts drowning out the peaceful sound of pirith chanting somewhere in the distance. While all the fun and the general air of festivity is all very well, Wesak seems no longer the beautifully serene deal it used to be.
May winds bring the season a sense of breezy tranquility, rustling the many frills of Wesak lanterns, lovingly and carefully crafted by nimble hands. I have always associated Wesak with the smell of freshly bought oil paper for making lanterns, new store-bought lanterns or what we call buckets, coconut oil, the waffery smell of wires you get when untangling strings of multicolored fairy lights which always remind me of colorful butter icing on birthday cakes. Altogether, a happy, cheerful smell. But I can't smell Wesak this time because of this God-awful cold! :(
Wesak for different people mean different things. For children, it is the season of dazzling blinking lights, ice cream and kadala off street carts and hours and hours of endless fun sightseeing. For vendors, its their chance to clear out their white cloths stocks before they turn yellow, dress their best dummies in white and show off their best white attire on sale. For polititians, its their chance to remind the public of their presence by sponsoring Pandols (or getting someone else to sponsor for them but ensuring its their name on the sponsor list) also making sure their names are announced every 2 minutes, opening dansals (once again making sure their names are announced every 2 mins). Wesak for teenagers is the time to observe other teenagers of the opposite sex, a potential dating ground, a potential ground for getting some innocent flirting done while coyly catching each others' eyes, exchanging shy smiles. Wesak for perverts is ultimate groping paradise. Among the throngs of crowds, its a good excuse to push oneself on women and feel them up and down to their hearts' content. Wesak for jobless morons is the ultimate whistling and commenting ground, a free space to throw water balloons, hurl bucketfuls of water at unsuspecting ladies roaming the streets with the aim of getting some innocent Wesak sightseeing done. Bizarre really........
Ah yes, the belly dancing monkey.........
On the day of Wesak we went on our usual Wesak parole. Not a fully fledged Wesak seeing excursion, just out and about the town. It was then that I saw it. Amidst a group of animals singing and playing instruments (all mechanical ones of course, just one of these rather curious, out of context Wesak-time presentations that people seem to conjure up out of thin air) this mechanical monkey just stood there, belly dancing to the tune of essentially Buddhist songs. The hips gyrated from side to side like one of a skilled belly dancer and let me tell you, it was just plain weird. Way too weird, even for me.
Also, looking at social media these days, it seems that the biggest problem in the country right now is the killing of cows and adopting of stray dogs. Also for many, the killing of dogs in some country far far away (say Alaska, or Mongolia, or Timbuktu, or the North Pole for God's sake) seems like a cause worthy of posting disturbing pictures online and fighting teeth to teeth with whoever dared to challenge their views online. Such a nation of Facebook heroes we have become. Quoting from a personal favorite of one of Darling's Tweets "So everybody cares about dogs and cows. Shaa!", leaves me wondering, what about humans? Ayyo Sri Lanka!
Anyways, Wesak has come and gone. All in all, not the greatest Wesak. That incredible calming sense that descends with the season seems to have been lost in translation somewhere. Sadly.
And Wesak is so bloody noisy this time.
Wesak has come to be a regular commotion of vehicle honking, annoying voices reciting ridiculous pseudo-Buddhist kavi (honestly, they are atrocious), silencerless motorbikes whirring about like irritating mosquitoes, the same old Mohideen Beg songs repeated over and over again till they are stuck in your head like a bad joke gone sour, dansal opening hullabaloo, wolf whistles, those tiny little bells of kadala carts drowning out the peaceful sound of pirith chanting somewhere in the distance. While all the fun and the general air of festivity is all very well, Wesak seems no longer the beautifully serene deal it used to be.
May winds bring the season a sense of breezy tranquility, rustling the many frills of Wesak lanterns, lovingly and carefully crafted by nimble hands. I have always associated Wesak with the smell of freshly bought oil paper for making lanterns, new store-bought lanterns or what we call buckets, coconut oil, the waffery smell of wires you get when untangling strings of multicolored fairy lights which always remind me of colorful butter icing on birthday cakes. Altogether, a happy, cheerful smell. But I can't smell Wesak this time because of this God-awful cold! :(
Wesak for different people mean different things. For children, it is the season of dazzling blinking lights, ice cream and kadala off street carts and hours and hours of endless fun sightseeing. For vendors, its their chance to clear out their white cloths stocks before they turn yellow, dress their best dummies in white and show off their best white attire on sale. For polititians, its their chance to remind the public of their presence by sponsoring Pandols (or getting someone else to sponsor for them but ensuring its their name on the sponsor list) also making sure their names are announced every 2 minutes, opening dansals (once again making sure their names are announced every 2 mins). Wesak for teenagers is the time to observe other teenagers of the opposite sex, a potential dating ground, a potential ground for getting some innocent flirting done while coyly catching each others' eyes, exchanging shy smiles. Wesak for perverts is ultimate groping paradise. Among the throngs of crowds, its a good excuse to push oneself on women and feel them up and down to their hearts' content. Wesak for jobless morons is the ultimate whistling and commenting ground, a free space to throw water balloons, hurl bucketfuls of water at unsuspecting ladies roaming the streets with the aim of getting some innocent Wesak sightseeing done. Bizarre really........
Ah yes, the belly dancing monkey.........
On the day of Wesak we went on our usual Wesak parole. Not a fully fledged Wesak seeing excursion, just out and about the town. It was then that I saw it. Amidst a group of animals singing and playing instruments (all mechanical ones of course, just one of these rather curious, out of context Wesak-time presentations that people seem to conjure up out of thin air) this mechanical monkey just stood there, belly dancing to the tune of essentially Buddhist songs. The hips gyrated from side to side like one of a skilled belly dancer and let me tell you, it was just plain weird. Way too weird, even for me.
Also, looking at social media these days, it seems that the biggest problem in the country right now is the killing of cows and adopting of stray dogs. Also for many, the killing of dogs in some country far far away (say Alaska, or Mongolia, or Timbuktu, or the North Pole for God's sake) seems like a cause worthy of posting disturbing pictures online and fighting teeth to teeth with whoever dared to challenge their views online. Such a nation of Facebook heroes we have become. Quoting from a personal favorite of one of Darling's Tweets "So everybody cares about dogs and cows. Shaa!", leaves me wondering, what about humans? Ayyo Sri Lanka!
Anyways, Wesak has come and gone. All in all, not the greatest Wesak. That incredible calming sense that descends with the season seems to have been lost in translation somewhere. Sadly.
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