Birthday. It came and it went. And I'm twenty five today.
Getting up early morning only to be swept up in a gigantic hug by both the parents. That alone is enough to put a beaming smile on my face. Then the morning is spent in the temple, unraveling petal after petal of white lotuses. There were twenty five of them this time.
Its so very peaceful in the temple and under the rustling bo leaves and the wind peacefully swish swishing through the trees, I could have spent forever in that shade. It's ever so peaceful there, ever so tranquil. The slightly damp sand is soothing under the feet and upon the feet as well when it scatters all over you as you walk. Its a great feeling to be able to dig your feet in to the sand, bury your toes in there, sit down and contemplate. So much to think, so much to ponder over.
Made gift packs for all the little girls in the orphanage and I handpicked every little thing in that gift pack this time. Little girls like nice, dainty things and I being a little girl once knew exactly what I'd like to have. Sure enough, the girls really loved it. And I was glad.
We had been preparing meals, giving these girls gifts, spending time with those children on every birthday ever since I can remember. When I was very small, I remember being fascinated by the thought of sharing a house, a room with all these girls my age and I remember wishing that I was one of them. They seemed so happy those little girls. I wanted to be part of the group, to learn together, to sleep together, to do my homework together with them. Having a brother much much older than me and therefore having grown up pretty much a loner, I suppose I craved for company of my own age, to share my thoughts, my dreams and aspirations. That is why I turned to writing I suppose. Because I had a lot of dreams and had not many people to share them with.
I started volunteering at the orphanage later on and taught the girls English, helped them with their homework and even gave them French lessons whenever I could. My favorite memory with them has to be sitting down on the highest step of the front porch and reading and explaining stories to the youngest of the lot. But now, I barely have time to do that and I regret that very very much. I wish I could spend hour upon hour, watching the amazement turn to smiles and smiles turn to wonderment and wonderment turn to curiosity on those young and tender faces.
It was a peaceful day yesterday. Birthdays remind you how blessed you are and how lucky indeed you are to have the things that life bestowed you with. I am blessed with the best parents a girl can ever dream of having. My mother is the most courageous and the most brave and talented woman that I have ever seen, never backing away from a challenge and loving us, rearing us single handedly and balancing a career too at the same time with no help from anyone at all. My father is the most noble and the most honorable man that I have ever seen, unflinching in his ways and possessing the strongest sense of integrity and honesty than any man that I have ever met in my life. If I am lucky, I could only wish that I inherited some of those qualities from them to cherish forever and for always with me.
I've always been a lucky child I guess. I guess I've always gotten what I've wanted or I persevered till I did. But then, I've always had luck on my side and I suppose this life chose me instead the other way round. When I was born I was not breathing and it was a while after I had revived and started breathing my mother says. Thus, I chose not to breath, but life chose to give me breath it seems. However, love found me before I've even had a chance to wonder about it and happiness too has this way of creeping upon me when I least expect it. Of course I've endured pain, gamuts and gamuts of it too but I like to think that I did it quite well to be standing on my feet strong and steady today. But then they say that a stone shall only be polished and be shiny if it was bashed around quite a lot now, don't they? And then comes other more tangible aspects. I ventured on to the field of creative and corporate writing with no prior experience and no idea at all whatsoever with regards to what I am doing and within even less than a year, here I am a "writer" in the much modern and commercialized sense of the word, earning substantial amounts that no person my own age could even dream of and handling more projects than I would have liked to. Beginners luck I'd say. I've made my parents and all those who love me proud. And that is really all I want. I consider myself truly blessed to have been able to do all that as well.
A birthday passed reminding of all the things that I'm grateful for in this life. It was a twenty five years well spent I guess :)
Thursday, June 7, 2012
Sunday, June 3, 2012
Bus ride and thoughts
Was taking a bus ride today, in the morning, still groggy from last night's sleep and quite unwillingly woken up from a bed that had somehow decided to not let me go at any cost this particular morning. However, I find bus rides refreshing. These bumpy travel sessions give you a sense of enlightenment and a wisdom regarding life that one just could not get anywhere else. I'm not kidding.
Anyway, the person in the seat in front of me, an elderly man of about 50 years old was starring out of the bus intently while it was parked at one spot and was waiting for passengers to load. I followed his gaze and found that they rested upon an elderly lady of about 75 or so, the kind of aachchi ammas that you find in the Sunday Fair in cloth and blouse selling beetle leaves, jack fruit and what-not. Anyways, she had on a cloth which she had taken off and was retying it around her waste this 75-80 year old woman, bent and hunched-backed with age and it was this that this man in the bus was watching intently. It was quite puzzling because that lady had another long skirt-like thing covering her whole body well, not showing even a millimeter of skin so I found it confusing as to why anyone would stare at such an old lady who was almost bent double with age and tying the cloth which had come loose that she had worn over another two or more cloths. I was perplexed.
It struck me at that moment that maybe, just maybe, women were created in such a fascinating way that one would stare at even the most oldest of the kind, even the most unattractive of the lot with so much of interest and awe. Maybe. It IS possible. I mean, when a man passes by, hardly anyone glances at that direction whereas when a woman walks by, no matter the age, no matter the kind of dress she had worn, no matter the kind of person she is, people would stare, at least look up from whatever they were doing, not only men, but women as well. Maybe its because God created the woman to be so interesting that no matter what the mankind knows of this fairer sex, no matter how well they know these beguiling creatures inside out, they are always ever so curious and imagine the woman to be hiding something precious beneath all those layers of cloth. I mean, as children, we are all given an education regarding reproductive health and so we all know what internal organs the two genders hold. Plus all the erotica out there serves this purpose too now, doesn't it? But still, are women as intrigued by what a man hides beneath his cloths as the men are by what a woman hides beneath her cloths? I don't think so, not so much anyway. I mean, a woman would not stare at a seventy year old man if he was retying his sarong and even if certain skin happens to be visible in the process as well. Maybe it is because that the womankind is blessed with a better imagination that allows them to know what to expect without opening the parcel whereas the man is ever so curious about what is covered up with all that wrapping paper even though they have seen and been told over and over again about what it holds? Or maybe its simply the way our biological clocks tick that the sex drive of men is "said" to be much more active than that of the woman? But then again, that is a downright myth. A woman I think, is naturally and biologically more disciplined than a man because, one little mistake on their part and they will be the ones carrying two-three kilos in their belly for nine months whereas for the man, no such conditions apply. So I suppose that this psychological fact applies to women, this responsibility factor of bearing life. Otherwise, if a woman doesn't want sex, that's because she's not getting good sex and is not all that enthusiastic about it while it sure as hell is not because she isn't interested.
Or maybe its because we as human beings are naturally interested in what is hidden and is rarely interested in what is out there in the open. Hmmm........
And I find myself thinking...........things I think inside a bus! :D
Anyways, I think the fact that the woman was created as the most interesting and the intriguing of the two genders is why women are being subjected to sexual assaults every so often. Not really complaining that she was made interesting, but is kind of dismayed that the woman was also created as the biologically weaker sex which makes them easy prey to the much stronger male animal. To ward off those prying eyes, groping hands and violent assaults, the woman should have been created a bit more sturdier, a bit more stronger than the opposite sex so that she would have been able to put up a fight against unwanted attention. But then again, why not build for ourselves what the nature has not blessed us with anyways? So ladies, tie your hair up and kick off those martial arts classes. Men today are such unhealthy slobs who don't bother about fitness at all anyway so, putting down a pervert or two would only be a piece of cake ;)
Also, I've found out that the best way to stop that annoying kid who makes faces at you from the front row is to roll back your eyes, open your mouth and make a demon face back at him so that it would scare the living daylights out of the little brat. Tried and tested. Works! :D
Anyway, the person in the seat in front of me, an elderly man of about 50 years old was starring out of the bus intently while it was parked at one spot and was waiting for passengers to load. I followed his gaze and found that they rested upon an elderly lady of about 75 or so, the kind of aachchi ammas that you find in the Sunday Fair in cloth and blouse selling beetle leaves, jack fruit and what-not. Anyways, she had on a cloth which she had taken off and was retying it around her waste this 75-80 year old woman, bent and hunched-backed with age and it was this that this man in the bus was watching intently. It was quite puzzling because that lady had another long skirt-like thing covering her whole body well, not showing even a millimeter of skin so I found it confusing as to why anyone would stare at such an old lady who was almost bent double with age and tying the cloth which had come loose that she had worn over another two or more cloths. I was perplexed.
It struck me at that moment that maybe, just maybe, women were created in such a fascinating way that one would stare at even the most oldest of the kind, even the most unattractive of the lot with so much of interest and awe. Maybe. It IS possible. I mean, when a man passes by, hardly anyone glances at that direction whereas when a woman walks by, no matter the age, no matter the kind of dress she had worn, no matter the kind of person she is, people would stare, at least look up from whatever they were doing, not only men, but women as well. Maybe its because God created the woman to be so interesting that no matter what the mankind knows of this fairer sex, no matter how well they know these beguiling creatures inside out, they are always ever so curious and imagine the woman to be hiding something precious beneath all those layers of cloth. I mean, as children, we are all given an education regarding reproductive health and so we all know what internal organs the two genders hold. Plus all the erotica out there serves this purpose too now, doesn't it? But still, are women as intrigued by what a man hides beneath his cloths as the men are by what a woman hides beneath her cloths? I don't think so, not so much anyway. I mean, a woman would not stare at a seventy year old man if he was retying his sarong and even if certain skin happens to be visible in the process as well. Maybe it is because that the womankind is blessed with a better imagination that allows them to know what to expect without opening the parcel whereas the man is ever so curious about what is covered up with all that wrapping paper even though they have seen and been told over and over again about what it holds? Or maybe its simply the way our biological clocks tick that the sex drive of men is "said" to be much more active than that of the woman? But then again, that is a downright myth. A woman I think, is naturally and biologically more disciplined than a man because, one little mistake on their part and they will be the ones carrying two-three kilos in their belly for nine months whereas for the man, no such conditions apply. So I suppose that this psychological fact applies to women, this responsibility factor of bearing life. Otherwise, if a woman doesn't want sex, that's because she's not getting good sex and is not all that enthusiastic about it while it sure as hell is not because she isn't interested.
Or maybe its because we as human beings are naturally interested in what is hidden and is rarely interested in what is out there in the open. Hmmm........
And I find myself thinking...........things I think inside a bus! :D
Anyways, I think the fact that the woman was created as the most interesting and the intriguing of the two genders is why women are being subjected to sexual assaults every so often. Not really complaining that she was made interesting, but is kind of dismayed that the woman was also created as the biologically weaker sex which makes them easy prey to the much stronger male animal. To ward off those prying eyes, groping hands and violent assaults, the woman should have been created a bit more sturdier, a bit more stronger than the opposite sex so that she would have been able to put up a fight against unwanted attention. But then again, why not build for ourselves what the nature has not blessed us with anyways? So ladies, tie your hair up and kick off those martial arts classes. Men today are such unhealthy slobs who don't bother about fitness at all anyway so, putting down a pervert or two would only be a piece of cake ;)
Also, I've found out that the best way to stop that annoying kid who makes faces at you from the front row is to roll back your eyes, open your mouth and make a demon face back at him so that it would scare the living daylights out of the little brat. Tried and tested. Works! :D
Friday, May 25, 2012
Dream blog
I had the strangest dream last night.
I dreamt that I was a child of the soil, smelling of wet sand, broken flower petals and sprouting kernels, embedded deep within the rich soils of the earth. My hair was knotted in clay and my cloths....well, I barely had any on. My parents were the earth, they took every blow that was dealt to them, took all the insults, the attacks but still stood solid and supporting beneath my feet. My ancestors were the trees. They spread their branches over my head, kept me well rooted and nourished me with their fruits. My friends and relations were the wind. They brought the sun and the rain, they made the flowers bloom, they made the trees pregnant with fruit, they brought pleasant fragrances and along with that, happiness, a happiness that is pure and raw in its very form. The open skies spread out above me, the clouds were reflected in a nearby lake and it looked as if they had come down for a leisurely swim. The grounds were open for me to run free, I was elated, I was light, both in body and mind. It felt peaceful. I felt free.
Maybe it had something to do with my recent urge to break free and flee from all this, leave everything behind, liberate myself from all that is keeping me weighed down and unhappy. Yes, this impending sense of doom, a disintegration that is very painful and unexpected had been quite an issue lately as it just saddens me to see something so beautiful go to the gutter because of absolute indifference. My constant need to salvage this integration has wrought me miserable I suppose and I think in a way, that the dream was symbolic of me letting go finally, letting go of this weighty responsibility of salvaging what is left. It must be a reflection of me finally accepting the fickle ways of life and realizing that I alone must not bear this weight and my intense desire to reconnect with nature which I had been feeling quite strongly since of late. Nevertheless, I had been having quite a lot of strange dreams lately. Some very pleasant, some not so pleasant.
Maybe I should start a dream blog.....................Hmmmm.............
I dreamt that I was a child of the soil, smelling of wet sand, broken flower petals and sprouting kernels, embedded deep within the rich soils of the earth. My hair was knotted in clay and my cloths....well, I barely had any on. My parents were the earth, they took every blow that was dealt to them, took all the insults, the attacks but still stood solid and supporting beneath my feet. My ancestors were the trees. They spread their branches over my head, kept me well rooted and nourished me with their fruits. My friends and relations were the wind. They brought the sun and the rain, they made the flowers bloom, they made the trees pregnant with fruit, they brought pleasant fragrances and along with that, happiness, a happiness that is pure and raw in its very form. The open skies spread out above me, the clouds were reflected in a nearby lake and it looked as if they had come down for a leisurely swim. The grounds were open for me to run free, I was elated, I was light, both in body and mind. It felt peaceful. I felt free.
Maybe it had something to do with my recent urge to break free and flee from all this, leave everything behind, liberate myself from all that is keeping me weighed down and unhappy. Yes, this impending sense of doom, a disintegration that is very painful and unexpected had been quite an issue lately as it just saddens me to see something so beautiful go to the gutter because of absolute indifference. My constant need to salvage this integration has wrought me miserable I suppose and I think in a way, that the dream was symbolic of me letting go finally, letting go of this weighty responsibility of salvaging what is left. It must be a reflection of me finally accepting the fickle ways of life and realizing that I alone must not bear this weight and my intense desire to reconnect with nature which I had been feeling quite strongly since of late. Nevertheless, I had been having quite a lot of strange dreams lately. Some very pleasant, some not so pleasant.
Maybe I should start a dream blog.....................Hmmmm.............
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
Horrors at the post office
Lady Grouchalot had the misfortune of going to the post office twice for the past two weeks. The first time she suffered through the incident, she put it down to mere coincidence and her luck. However, it was during the second time that things were confirmed.
Its official, post offices are run by evil, evil people. With eternally constipated looks upon their faces, these individuals are forever armed with the necessary bile and venom to spit at anybody who would disturb their indifferent slumbers in the corners of these dingy offices. Its true, these tiny, almost invisible, untidy places that are called post offices are located in extremely hard to reach corners of the earth (these places are probably off the maps too) where parking is nonexistent and individuals are required to wage through forests and swim through puddles of muddy, muddy water (literary) in order to get to one.
The first time (in a long time) that the Lady had to confront a post office troll wearing a human skin was last week when the university results finally arrived (oh btw, First Class Honors baby! Woot Woot! Oh yeah, this girl had braved violent, humongous storms, went to exams after spending whole days and nights crying in excruciating emotional pain, suffered through the dire lack of lecturers, ridiculous antiques of university officials, wrote a whole thesis without any guidance OR a supervisor and still, here she is, holding her head high as she emerges alive, battle scars and all). Anyways with the gloating aside, the convocation letters needed to be sent to the university by registered post and when finally at the post office (at Wattala) suffering through an incredible amount of indifference from a male individual at the counter who was gossiping over the phone about some Jayawardena's son's niece having an illicit affair with a married man, this man finally managed to majorly eff up writing the receipt (while the receiver remained embedded between the chin and the ear while the mouth still jabbered away) and claimed that the Rs 100/= that I have placed on the counter as his own as I argued with him that it was me who had put it there on the counter. After much convincing, the man (still on the phone) screwed up a second receipt and finally managed to tag the registered post stamp on the letter and hand over a barely readable receipt to me. He was still on the phone when we left. I do not know whether the university received my letter or not.
The second time was at the Kiribathgoda post office to which I went with Mother Dearest to do some more registered posting. The woman behind the counter (a veritable troll in a saree that looked almost human but not quite) had her nose deep in a newspaper, hardly taking any notice of us while we stood there at the counter right in front of her frowning mug, making VERY loud sounds. It was a good ten minutes after my mother had made her requirement known (loudly) that the woman put down the paper with a frown that scrunched up her nose so much that she looked like she had just bitten in to an extra sour lime, grabbed the envelop out of my mother's hand (I'm surprised that it did not tear in two) and barked out something about the address being wrong. My mother being overtly familiar with the address said so to her while this saree clad heap of fury gave a smoldering look to both of us and ordered us to look it up in the directory. Defeated, mother took up the directory and shoved it under her over sized nose as proof of our verity after which she accepted the letter with a grunt (I SWEAR she grunted) hastily wrote the receipt which she flung to us from under the counter without even giving us a glance. Lady Grouchalot was furious. So was Mother Dearest who usually does not get ruffled by the rudeness of people in government services as much as the Lady does. That was wayyy too much. Even Mother Dearest agreed.
I don't get it. Maybe these untidy, foul smelling post offices are stowed away in the furthest corners of the earth so that no human being shall never set foot upon them to witness the horrors that take place within those glue smeared, dust encrusted walls? Maybe those cage-like barriers made of glass are set up between the public and the officials behind the counters because they jump at us and bite off our necks? I don't know. Maybe. Its a very high probability.
Anyways with the horrors at the post office well behind her, it seems like the Lady's humble poetry collection is finally going to see the light of the day. This is of course, thanks to a very generous individual that the Lady has gotten to know of late who is very kindly assisting her through the intricate labyrinth of publishing step by tiny little step. The Lady is excited and overjoyed as a long awaited dream is finally seeing the light. Her babies are finally going to see the world! What is more, there will be well experienced, veteran writers and poets who will offer her guidance, suggestions and will hold her hand throughout the whole painful procedure. Sigh.....I cannot ask for more.
All said and done, currently swamped with work and several articles whose deadlines hang above me like ominous guillotines await, sharpening their glistening edges. Better get them done as soon as possible. Sigh.......... Its 1.15 AM, coffee flows free but words seem constipated. What a life!
Its official, post offices are run by evil, evil people. With eternally constipated looks upon their faces, these individuals are forever armed with the necessary bile and venom to spit at anybody who would disturb their indifferent slumbers in the corners of these dingy offices. Its true, these tiny, almost invisible, untidy places that are called post offices are located in extremely hard to reach corners of the earth (these places are probably off the maps too) where parking is nonexistent and individuals are required to wage through forests and swim through puddles of muddy, muddy water (literary) in order to get to one.
The first time (in a long time) that the Lady had to confront a post office troll wearing a human skin was last week when the university results finally arrived (oh btw, First Class Honors baby! Woot Woot! Oh yeah, this girl had braved violent, humongous storms, went to exams after spending whole days and nights crying in excruciating emotional pain, suffered through the dire lack of lecturers, ridiculous antiques of university officials, wrote a whole thesis without any guidance OR a supervisor and still, here she is, holding her head high as she emerges alive, battle scars and all). Anyways with the gloating aside, the convocation letters needed to be sent to the university by registered post and when finally at the post office (at Wattala) suffering through an incredible amount of indifference from a male individual at the counter who was gossiping over the phone about some Jayawardena's son's niece having an illicit affair with a married man, this man finally managed to majorly eff up writing the receipt (while the receiver remained embedded between the chin and the ear while the mouth still jabbered away) and claimed that the Rs 100/= that I have placed on the counter as his own as I argued with him that it was me who had put it there on the counter. After much convincing, the man (still on the phone) screwed up a second receipt and finally managed to tag the registered post stamp on the letter and hand over a barely readable receipt to me. He was still on the phone when we left. I do not know whether the university received my letter or not.
The second time was at the Kiribathgoda post office to which I went with Mother Dearest to do some more registered posting. The woman behind the counter (a veritable troll in a saree that looked almost human but not quite) had her nose deep in a newspaper, hardly taking any notice of us while we stood there at the counter right in front of her frowning mug, making VERY loud sounds. It was a good ten minutes after my mother had made her requirement known (loudly) that the woman put down the paper with a frown that scrunched up her nose so much that she looked like she had just bitten in to an extra sour lime, grabbed the envelop out of my mother's hand (I'm surprised that it did not tear in two) and barked out something about the address being wrong. My mother being overtly familiar with the address said so to her while this saree clad heap of fury gave a smoldering look to both of us and ordered us to look it up in the directory. Defeated, mother took up the directory and shoved it under her over sized nose as proof of our verity after which she accepted the letter with a grunt (I SWEAR she grunted) hastily wrote the receipt which she flung to us from under the counter without even giving us a glance. Lady Grouchalot was furious. So was Mother Dearest who usually does not get ruffled by the rudeness of people in government services as much as the Lady does. That was wayyy too much. Even Mother Dearest agreed.
I don't get it. Maybe these untidy, foul smelling post offices are stowed away in the furthest corners of the earth so that no human being shall never set foot upon them to witness the horrors that take place within those glue smeared, dust encrusted walls? Maybe those cage-like barriers made of glass are set up between the public and the officials behind the counters because they jump at us and bite off our necks? I don't know. Maybe. Its a very high probability.
Anyways with the horrors at the post office well behind her, it seems like the Lady's humble poetry collection is finally going to see the light of the day. This is of course, thanks to a very generous individual that the Lady has gotten to know of late who is very kindly assisting her through the intricate labyrinth of publishing step by tiny little step. The Lady is excited and overjoyed as a long awaited dream is finally seeing the light. Her babies are finally going to see the world! What is more, there will be well experienced, veteran writers and poets who will offer her guidance, suggestions and will hold her hand throughout the whole painful procedure. Sigh.....I cannot ask for more.
All said and done, currently swamped with work and several articles whose deadlines hang above me like ominous guillotines await, sharpening their glistening edges. Better get them done as soon as possible. Sigh.......... Its 1.15 AM, coffee flows free but words seem constipated. What a life!
Monday, April 16, 2012
The "Health Regiment"
I know! They are just trying to establish a fresh and flourishing, able-bodied nation, overflowing with health and vitality. Shah! Mara plan ah! I'm still dumb founded by their abounding prodigy!
I just can't believe that people are still complaining. See, it all started with the price increase of bread. The aim of this scheme was to discourage the people from consuming bread and encouraging them to consume red rice, jack fruit, kurakkan and ala, bathla in order to grow strong, fit and sturdy like the Sinhala Yodhayas of the earlier times. But the idiotic people of our country just couldn't take a hint and continued to eat, eat and eat, grow fat and fill themselves with cholesterol continuously. As dismayed as they were, the poor, helpless altruists from across the lake were forced to stoop to more drastic measures. Food prices were further increased as a result and we Sri Lankans, dumb as we are (made dumb by being fed "imperialistic" food according to "imperialist conspiracies" of course) protested and shouted vehemently, blaming these saintly gentlemen to be selfish, corrupted and concerned about nothing else but their own selves. But wrong as we were, they were only thinking of Sri Lankans as a nation, concerned solely about reviving our health and reducing obesity, cholesterol and other such fatal conditions by encouraging lesser eating among the citizens. Tsk, tsk at ourselves people! We were blaming THEM all along!
The benefits of eating raw has been preached time and time again but nobody paid any heed to this valuable advice dished out ever so benevolently all over the island time and time again. Once again, due to the innate stubbornness (and the imperialist induced stupidity of the people) drastic measures were in place. Up went the gas prices, thereby depriving the people, the ability to cook their food over a fire, thereby forcing them to eat raw. However, once again these imbecile Sri Lankans couldn't take a hint as they found alternative methods of cooking their food while others continued to purchase gas at higher prices and refused to conform to this uber healthy suggestion thus presented to the people by their caring, benevolent leaders. One could almost hear sighs of disappointment all the way from across the lake.
It was not long ago that many areas of the country started blossoming with trekking pathways for ordinary people to walk and exercise at leisure. The Independence Square was refurbished with fancy lights, walkways and other paraphernalia, while more trekking paths were budding with great enthusiasm across the country. The disappointing factor was, even after spending a little fortune upon these ventures, the people ever so heartlessly ignored these honest attempts of the authorities of making the citizens walk. Once again, desperate measures were in call to make the people see the light and coax them in to shedding some sweat rather than sitting in their air conditioned vehicles all day. So when the fuel prices hit the roof, the authorities had the pure, pellucid, authentic intention of making people walk more. People grumbled, rebelled and the poor noble souls who lead the country wetted their pants in fear and as precaution, all armed forces were summoned from the North East to Colombo with the aim of controlling the rabid, enraged mobs who have just had enough interventions to last a life time. One such person's brains were blown out while several others just "disappeared" in to murky white vans and that settled the matter it seems. All was at peace once again in our little island haven.
Increasing fuel prices still did not get the people's attention towards the kind of healthy life that they should be living and they still continued to misuse their respective modes of transportation to roam about the country without shedding a bead of sweat. The leaders were evidently saddened by the callous idiocy of the people and yet, they were not ready yet to give up on their beloved citizens who they cherished like their respective bank accounts. In addition to people absolutely refusing to get some exercise, the cities were being grossly polluted by the gases emitted by the ridiculous profusion of honking vehicles roaming the streets in swarms. The authority from across the Diyawanna were in tears with snot dribbling down their noses in steady, lumpy streams. They could not understand how and why the people could be so careless about their health and the health of fellow citizens, not bothering to abandon their air conditioned vehicles, in turn polluting the air as well in the process. All this was atrocious beyond all words of the Malalasekara dictionary put together! The solution came in the form of the increase of vehicle taxes which deprived the ordinary citizen of their ability to purchase a vehicle in this life time. So people MUST walk now, they have no choice! As one cannot afford a vehicle these days and they cannot afford the bus fare either, what with the increasing of the fuel prices and all, people are forced to walk. What a thoughtful leadership we have and we in turn, must be grateful.
Remember the Nazi Regiment with their rather resolute obsession over the supremacy of the Aryan race, the blond haired, blue eyed kind? Reminiscent of the good ol Nazi days, the single-balled Hitler chap and the gas-conditioned playrooms of his favorite pets, the Jews, today we have a "Healthy Regiment" which shall regulate the population of our little island country, situated far far away from Europe. However, the beauty of the fact is, the "Healthy Regiment" does not discriminate according to race, ethnicity, sexual orientation, gender or any such deciding factor. Everyone is treated equally in this regiment (except of course the leadership themselves who have so very selflessly decided to sacrifice their own health and bear the brunt of excessive comfort, sucking the people dry of their riches and thereby also their unhealthy habits as a result) Its good health for all!! We are indeed, blessed.
Now with all the excess food and the oil consumption during the Avrudu season, the government is once again very concerned as I heard. The food prices are due to go up once again as a means of regulating the health issues that may come up due to excessive consumption of the season. We should be glad and so friggin' proud that our leadership is quite capable of thinking on their feet and providing timely solutions for emergency situations such as now.
Why all the fortifying and the obsession over health you ask? Well, the aim is to build a nation of yodhayas (giants) like the good old days, who are fed with homegrown, organic vegetables (because one cannot afford to buy them from the market anymore), red rice, jack fruit and what not, in order to battle it out with America and other "imperialist interventions" like one wise bearded man across the lake once suggested. So this must be our very own, homegrown battle plan against America for bringing up that distasteful resolution against us. Be afraid America, be very afraid, said a nonsensical bearded man from across the lake. We yodhayas fed with rathu bath, Kos and other healthy food grown in our own backyards are coming, with the adorably nonsensical bearded man leading us from the forefront! I should have realized this earlier noh, without grumbling about everything. If I did, the name of this very blog may have been something else entirely. Such ungrateful people we all are I tell you! Gotta admire the genius minds of these people. They say that Einstein's IQ was 160 and they consider him a mara pora. We really should test the IQ of the people from across the lake. I'm sure that it would turn quite a few heads and raise a few eye brows if we did so. Shaaaaaaaa...... mara plans these people have. They could have surely fooled us what with them playing the dumb ass in media, rambling the most moronic nonsense and all!
I just can't believe that people are still complaining. See, it all started with the price increase of bread. The aim of this scheme was to discourage the people from consuming bread and encouraging them to consume red rice, jack fruit, kurakkan and ala, bathla in order to grow strong, fit and sturdy like the Sinhala Yodhayas of the earlier times. But the idiotic people of our country just couldn't take a hint and continued to eat, eat and eat, grow fat and fill themselves with cholesterol continuously. As dismayed as they were, the poor, helpless altruists from across the lake were forced to stoop to more drastic measures. Food prices were further increased as a result and we Sri Lankans, dumb as we are (made dumb by being fed "imperialistic" food according to "imperialist conspiracies" of course) protested and shouted vehemently, blaming these saintly gentlemen to be selfish, corrupted and concerned about nothing else but their own selves. But wrong as we were, they were only thinking of Sri Lankans as a nation, concerned solely about reviving our health and reducing obesity, cholesterol and other such fatal conditions by encouraging lesser eating among the citizens. Tsk, tsk at ourselves people! We were blaming THEM all along!
The benefits of eating raw has been preached time and time again but nobody paid any heed to this valuable advice dished out ever so benevolently all over the island time and time again. Once again, due to the innate stubbornness (and the imperialist induced stupidity of the people) drastic measures were in place. Up went the gas prices, thereby depriving the people, the ability to cook their food over a fire, thereby forcing them to eat raw. However, once again these imbecile Sri Lankans couldn't take a hint as they found alternative methods of cooking their food while others continued to purchase gas at higher prices and refused to conform to this uber healthy suggestion thus presented to the people by their caring, benevolent leaders. One could almost hear sighs of disappointment all the way from across the lake.
It was not long ago that many areas of the country started blossoming with trekking pathways for ordinary people to walk and exercise at leisure. The Independence Square was refurbished with fancy lights, walkways and other paraphernalia, while more trekking paths were budding with great enthusiasm across the country. The disappointing factor was, even after spending a little fortune upon these ventures, the people ever so heartlessly ignored these honest attempts of the authorities of making the citizens walk. Once again, desperate measures were in call to make the people see the light and coax them in to shedding some sweat rather than sitting in their air conditioned vehicles all day. So when the fuel prices hit the roof, the authorities had the pure, pellucid, authentic intention of making people walk more. People grumbled, rebelled and the poor noble souls who lead the country wetted their pants in fear and as precaution, all armed forces were summoned from the North East to Colombo with the aim of controlling the rabid, enraged mobs who have just had enough interventions to last a life time. One such person's brains were blown out while several others just "disappeared" in to murky white vans and that settled the matter it seems. All was at peace once again in our little island haven.
Increasing fuel prices still did not get the people's attention towards the kind of healthy life that they should be living and they still continued to misuse their respective modes of transportation to roam about the country without shedding a bead of sweat. The leaders were evidently saddened by the callous idiocy of the people and yet, they were not ready yet to give up on their beloved citizens who they cherished like their respective bank accounts. In addition to people absolutely refusing to get some exercise, the cities were being grossly polluted by the gases emitted by the ridiculous profusion of honking vehicles roaming the streets in swarms. The authority from across the Diyawanna were in tears with snot dribbling down their noses in steady, lumpy streams. They could not understand how and why the people could be so careless about their health and the health of fellow citizens, not bothering to abandon their air conditioned vehicles, in turn polluting the air as well in the process. All this was atrocious beyond all words of the Malalasekara dictionary put together! The solution came in the form of the increase of vehicle taxes which deprived the ordinary citizen of their ability to purchase a vehicle in this life time. So people MUST walk now, they have no choice! As one cannot afford a vehicle these days and they cannot afford the bus fare either, what with the increasing of the fuel prices and all, people are forced to walk. What a thoughtful leadership we have and we in turn, must be grateful.
Remember the Nazi Regiment with their rather resolute obsession over the supremacy of the Aryan race, the blond haired, blue eyed kind? Reminiscent of the good ol Nazi days, the single-balled Hitler chap and the gas-conditioned playrooms of his favorite pets, the Jews, today we have a "Healthy Regiment" which shall regulate the population of our little island country, situated far far away from Europe. However, the beauty of the fact is, the "Healthy Regiment" does not discriminate according to race, ethnicity, sexual orientation, gender or any such deciding factor. Everyone is treated equally in this regiment (except of course the leadership themselves who have so very selflessly decided to sacrifice their own health and bear the brunt of excessive comfort, sucking the people dry of their riches and thereby also their unhealthy habits as a result) Its good health for all!! We are indeed, blessed.
Now with all the excess food and the oil consumption during the Avrudu season, the government is once again very concerned as I heard. The food prices are due to go up once again as a means of regulating the health issues that may come up due to excessive consumption of the season. We should be glad and so friggin' proud that our leadership is quite capable of thinking on their feet and providing timely solutions for emergency situations such as now.
Why all the fortifying and the obsession over health you ask? Well, the aim is to build a nation of yodhayas (giants) like the good old days, who are fed with homegrown, organic vegetables (because one cannot afford to buy them from the market anymore), red rice, jack fruit and what not, in order to battle it out with America and other "imperialist interventions" like one wise bearded man across the lake once suggested. So this must be our very own, homegrown battle plan against America for bringing up that distasteful resolution against us. Be afraid America, be very afraid, said a nonsensical bearded man from across the lake. We yodhayas fed with rathu bath, Kos and other healthy food grown in our own backyards are coming, with the adorably nonsensical bearded man leading us from the forefront! I should have realized this earlier noh, without grumbling about everything. If I did, the name of this very blog may have been something else entirely. Such ungrateful people we all are I tell you! Gotta admire the genius minds of these people. They say that Einstein's IQ was 160 and they consider him a mara pora. We really should test the IQ of the people from across the lake. I'm sure that it would turn quite a few heads and raise a few eye brows if we did so. Shaaaaaaaa...... mara plans these people have. They could have surely fooled us what with them playing the dumb ass in media, rambling the most moronic nonsense and all!
Thursday, April 12, 2012
Random Ramblings
Its been quite some time, I know. Well, things have been quite hectic and since this is the New Year week, I've been a little bit released form the ordinary flow of work. Well, I've still got some paper articles that I've got to hand in and then there is all the Avrudu stuff going on which hinders me from getting any sort of work done. Its all hustle, bustle and rustle of the preparations over here :)
Oh and another thing, Lady Grouchalot has been offered her very own column on The Island!! Yes, yes, I've been dancing about it for quite sometime, but then nothing's been finalized yet, so we will wait and see what happens. Will definitely post here when it goes on for sure.
Btw, decided to go ahead and unleash a collection of poetry and this time, I am DEFINITELY going ahead with it. Poetry has always been a part of my life. I write when I'm sad, I write when I'm happy, I write when I'm in pain...yeah, mostly when I'm in pain I write. Poetry is indeed a great device to dissolve all that hurt and the stinging that you feel every once in a while. Poetry has always been my escape and solace so my words have always been honest, gritty and quite dark in poetry. But that is exactly what I am. I do not write rainbow fables (ok, so there's this one poem called "Somewhere over the rainbow" written for the Darling of which I'm quite fond of really, but that is about it), my little pony pink goo that people can nicely sit at their coffee tables, flip the pages with their manicured nails and read while sipping their mochachinos. But this time, I am putting myself out. I am revealing myself, spilling out my insides, full frontal and unadulterated, in all its rawness, bloody and unwashed like a new born babe just out of the womb with the umbilical cord still uncut. No more hesitation. This is my poetry. This is myself when I fall to pieces, this is my own flesh and blood, sweat and tears splattered across the pages in words. Take it or leave it and I wouldn't give a rat's tiny behind if you call it poetry or mere ramblings of a delirious mind.
Been writing a novel, but the progress is slow as my "work" usually swallows up most of my time. Writing for a living has this way of draining all your energy that you have no time nor the desire left to do any creative work at all. But times shall pass and I shall make some time. I'm quite fond of this story that I am writing really. It has been inspired by some of my childhood memories of visiting my mother's ancestral home. The background is that but the characters are pretty much fictitious. Writing the novel is fun really, it gives you this God-like feeling. You are the master of the puppets (I mean the characters) and you pull the strings. But after some time, you get so attached to these characters that it gets creepy sometimes. Either way, this novel has its way of sucking me in to and I usually do not feel time go by and as a result sometimes, I abandon my work. Which I literally cannot afford right now because I am planning to publish the book with what I've earned so far without any help from my darling parents who would only be too willing to take it upon themselves. But no. They have fed me, given me a good education, they have made me in to what I am today. As a 24 year old, I need to be able to stand up on my own feet and fend for myself. I want to make them proud. And I know that I will.
Missing music badly. There's been some pretty bland gigs that have been organized to which we have participated out of sheer lack of good live, head spinning music and the hunger remains unsatisfied. Which excludes the No More Marx concert held on the 31st March of course which was quite something to rant about. It was the first time I saw the dude perform live and I quite liked it. Even wrote an article on it which is to be published in the Grouchalot column in the paper. It was, indeed, an article worthy concert.
Tsunami scare yesterday and watching all those people clamber about for their dear lives really made me think. It must have been like deja vu for the down south people all over again, having to grab what they can and run for their lives. Just can't imagine what it must have been for the survivors of 2004. It was like a nightmare repeating itself. Daddy Dearest was already at home (thank God) and once we managed to bug The Darling to come early from work and crash at our place for a while, it felt cosy and somewhat protected to be surrounded by all the people that I loved and cared for, but imagine how it would have been for the families whose parents, children or spouses have not yet returned home. To top it off, buses have stopped travelling, leaving those of who do not own the luxury of a car stranded in the middle of nowhere. Just hope to God that no such tragedy shall occur again like that of 2004. More people killed in just 10 minutes than the entire number of lives lost during 30 years of civil war. Turns out that Tsunami is indeed the bigger b****
Somewhat nodding off. Its been an eventful day what with all the preparing of sweets and what not. I just adore the hustle and bustle of the season, the variety of smells wafting through the house, merry noises, laughter, its all very lively. For me, this is what Avrudu is all about. Family. Love. And happiness. And tomorrow, more oil-oozing goodness of the season and more happy cheer :)
Oh and another thing, Lady Grouchalot has been offered her very own column on The Island!! Yes, yes, I've been dancing about it for quite sometime, but then nothing's been finalized yet, so we will wait and see what happens. Will definitely post here when it goes on for sure.
Btw, decided to go ahead and unleash a collection of poetry and this time, I am DEFINITELY going ahead with it. Poetry has always been a part of my life. I write when I'm sad, I write when I'm happy, I write when I'm in pain...yeah, mostly when I'm in pain I write. Poetry is indeed a great device to dissolve all that hurt and the stinging that you feel every once in a while. Poetry has always been my escape and solace so my words have always been honest, gritty and quite dark in poetry. But that is exactly what I am. I do not write rainbow fables (ok, so there's this one poem called "Somewhere over the rainbow" written for the Darling of which I'm quite fond of really, but that is about it), my little pony pink goo that people can nicely sit at their coffee tables, flip the pages with their manicured nails and read while sipping their mochachinos. But this time, I am putting myself out. I am revealing myself, spilling out my insides, full frontal and unadulterated, in all its rawness, bloody and unwashed like a new born babe just out of the womb with the umbilical cord still uncut. No more hesitation. This is my poetry. This is myself when I fall to pieces, this is my own flesh and blood, sweat and tears splattered across the pages in words. Take it or leave it and I wouldn't give a rat's tiny behind if you call it poetry or mere ramblings of a delirious mind.
Been writing a novel, but the progress is slow as my "work" usually swallows up most of my time. Writing for a living has this way of draining all your energy that you have no time nor the desire left to do any creative work at all. But times shall pass and I shall make some time. I'm quite fond of this story that I am writing really. It has been inspired by some of my childhood memories of visiting my mother's ancestral home. The background is that but the characters are pretty much fictitious. Writing the novel is fun really, it gives you this God-like feeling. You are the master of the puppets (I mean the characters) and you pull the strings. But after some time, you get so attached to these characters that it gets creepy sometimes. Either way, this novel has its way of sucking me in to and I usually do not feel time go by and as a result sometimes, I abandon my work. Which I literally cannot afford right now because I am planning to publish the book with what I've earned so far without any help from my darling parents who would only be too willing to take it upon themselves. But no. They have fed me, given me a good education, they have made me in to what I am today. As a 24 year old, I need to be able to stand up on my own feet and fend for myself. I want to make them proud. And I know that I will.
Missing music badly. There's been some pretty bland gigs that have been organized to which we have participated out of sheer lack of good live, head spinning music and the hunger remains unsatisfied. Which excludes the No More Marx concert held on the 31st March of course which was quite something to rant about. It was the first time I saw the dude perform live and I quite liked it. Even wrote an article on it which is to be published in the Grouchalot column in the paper. It was, indeed, an article worthy concert.
Tsunami scare yesterday and watching all those people clamber about for their dear lives really made me think. It must have been like deja vu for the down south people all over again, having to grab what they can and run for their lives. Just can't imagine what it must have been for the survivors of 2004. It was like a nightmare repeating itself. Daddy Dearest was already at home (thank God) and once we managed to bug The Darling to come early from work and crash at our place for a while, it felt cosy and somewhat protected to be surrounded by all the people that I loved and cared for, but imagine how it would have been for the families whose parents, children or spouses have not yet returned home. To top it off, buses have stopped travelling, leaving those of who do not own the luxury of a car stranded in the middle of nowhere. Just hope to God that no such tragedy shall occur again like that of 2004. More people killed in just 10 minutes than the entire number of lives lost during 30 years of civil war. Turns out that Tsunami is indeed the bigger b****
Somewhat nodding off. Its been an eventful day what with all the preparing of sweets and what not. I just adore the hustle and bustle of the season, the variety of smells wafting through the house, merry noises, laughter, its all very lively. For me, this is what Avrudu is all about. Family. Love. And happiness. And tomorrow, more oil-oozing goodness of the season and more happy cheer :)
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
Happy belated women's day!
The World women's day whizzed past us with many a vivid fb status updates, pizza offers, girls nights out and what not. The buy one get one free pizza offer for women's day was the one that amused me the most. However, hats off to Pizza Hut for at least caring enough that the women in this country are fed sufficiently even if it is for just one day :D
An incident which occurred on the women's day itself set my mind in motion. Although a Lady *snobby pout* I am a Lady minus her own personal carriage and chauffeur and therefore, I am required to utlize the public transport services quite frequently. Therefore, I should say that I am quite well versed in kicking, punching, castrating (haven't yet gotten around to it, but quite looking forward to it) individuals with severe mental problems who like groping women up and down and exposing their wobbly bits in public. However, on this particular day, a tiny-minded individual with severe mommy issues happened to try his luck, apparently with the wrong girl and the lady, possessing quite a temper, happened to twist his slimy fingers to their breaking point, without even the courtesy of looking back in to the face of the kind young man who lent his fingers to be twisted like modeling clay. She did it oh-so-casually that it shocked and bewildered the perv, even though he did keep muttering curses under his breath with a fearful glance every now and then. I dare say that I enjoyed myself very much. It felt good.
Times are such that a woman cannot walk down the street, take a bus, travel alone without being groped, starred at, addressed in obscenities by puny insects who call themselves male. And we have dimwitted diplomats going around the world preaching about our "culture" giving birth to "well disciplined" men who respect and protect women. We speak of gender equality and men are often seen raising their eyebrows and smirking with expressions which spell 'bloody feminists" when a woman speaks out for her race, on behalf of freedom and liberation of the female kind. Well, one does not have to be bra-burning, stark raving mad in order to address the many issues that a woman living in this apparently "cultured and well disciplined" society have to bear up with. Men who smirk and raise their eyebrows when speaking of women's rights do not get groped by strange people (I have a feeling that they would enjoy it very much if they do get groped), they don't get starred at, they don't get leered at, they don't get called a "bitch" or "slut" for speaking out one's mind or for dressing in whatever way that he prefers to be dressed in. For God's sake, a man can walk in to a public place in the world's most ridiculous pair of flowered shorts, wearing his socks over his ears, sporting the most horrendous head of hair that has been colored a blazing orange and he will not even be noticed let alone commented upon! How is this fair?!?!
Despite the claim that the woman in this society is given her rightful place, only a woman living in this society with both her feet planted firmly on the ground would know the truth as it is. Driving for a woman is as hectic and harassing as using the public modes of transport with thousands of perverts who will be starring down your neckline, groping you up and down, leaning against you, undressing you with their eyes. All sorts of jerks will swerve their vehicles towards you, cut in quite abruptly in front of you and when the two vehicles collide, they will try to use their physical strength to frighten and intimidate you in to paying them a compensation. When that does not work, they will try to demean and challenge your intelligence with "what do you know about the world? You are a woman" kind of attitude. I like to surprise these jerks at times with my "limited female viewpoint" of the world and it feels good to see how most of these spineless things scowl and shut their cake holes without further displaying their ignorance.
I have often seen women getting harassed in the public and I have seen them bearing it all up in silence. I have seen friends getting harassed and yet when I try to speak out for them, I have been held back by my friends themselves because "we are women" and because "we don't want any trouble". I had often tried to retort and reason with them but then I see the fear in their eyes and I hold myself back, placing a reassuring pat on their arms. Ladies, before you start venting about equality of the genders and all the riff-raff I'd say we fight for one of our most basic rights, the right to go about our day without being harassed, groped or raped on the way to office, home or school. No amount of banning pornography sites, taking down "inappropriate" cutouts or blurring out scenes from movies even when a lady's dress is slightly lifted by the wind (Honestly, watching a movie on a local TV channel is like trying to count the tiles on a bathroom wall through a shower curtain but that's another story) However, don't y'all think that all the time spent and the trouble taken for censoring movies and teledramas, taking down of billboards and etc would be better spent if all that energy is directed towards making the society a safer and a more liberated space for a woman to move about in? But then again, must the authorities do everything? Ladies, it is YOUR silence that encourages these ballless bastards, it is on YOUR fear that they feed on. Time to embed a stiletto heel or two on a leering and jeering face that makes lewd comments or mutters obscenities in your ears, I'd say.
There are two types of women in the world. The Eves who are made from Adam's rib who are meant to be sweet, gentle and subordinate and then there are Liliths who were meant to be Adam's equal, made from the same stuff, only muddier and sturdier stuff than what Adam was made of. But what I believe is that there is a Lilith and an Eve in each and every woman and that it is a woman's experience, circumstances and conditions to which she is exposed that determines whether Lilith or Eve emerges each time. So ladies, invoke Lilith for strength and protection and cherish Eve for gentleness and forgiveness because it is this rare combination of unrelenting tenacity and unparalleled gentleness which makes a woman incomparable to any man who gropes, touches, stares, mutters obscenities or simply remains inactive while he knows that women are being harassed, molested and subjected to all sorts of injustices all over the world.
Phew.....now that its all been said, happy belated women's day everyone! :)
I have often seen women getting harassed in the public and I have seen them bearing it all up in silence. I have seen friends getting harassed and yet when I try to speak out for them, I have been held back by my friends themselves because "we are women" and because "we don't want any trouble". I had often tried to retort and reason with them but then I see the fear in their eyes and I hold myself back, placing a reassuring pat on their arms. Ladies, before you start venting about equality of the genders and all the riff-raff I'd say we fight for one of our most basic rights, the right to go about our day without being harassed, groped or raped on the way to office, home or school. No amount of banning pornography sites, taking down "inappropriate" cutouts or blurring out scenes from movies even when a lady's dress is slightly lifted by the wind (Honestly, watching a movie on a local TV channel is like trying to count the tiles on a bathroom wall through a shower curtain but that's another story) However, don't y'all think that all the time spent and the trouble taken for censoring movies and teledramas, taking down of billboards and etc would be better spent if all that energy is directed towards making the society a safer and a more liberated space for a woman to move about in? But then again, must the authorities do everything? Ladies, it is YOUR silence that encourages these ballless bastards, it is on YOUR fear that they feed on. Time to embed a stiletto heel or two on a leering and jeering face that makes lewd comments or mutters obscenities in your ears, I'd say.
There are two types of women in the world. The Eves who are made from Adam's rib who are meant to be sweet, gentle and subordinate and then there are Liliths who were meant to be Adam's equal, made from the same stuff, only muddier and sturdier stuff than what Adam was made of. But what I believe is that there is a Lilith and an Eve in each and every woman and that it is a woman's experience, circumstances and conditions to which she is exposed that determines whether Lilith or Eve emerges each time. So ladies, invoke Lilith for strength and protection and cherish Eve for gentleness and forgiveness because it is this rare combination of unrelenting tenacity and unparalleled gentleness which makes a woman incomparable to any man who gropes, touches, stares, mutters obscenities or simply remains inactive while he knows that women are being harassed, molested and subjected to all sorts of injustices all over the world.
Phew.....now that its all been said, happy belated women's day everyone! :)
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