A late book fair post

The book fair this time was a rather squidgy affair. The usual rainy season culprits of our paradise isle - water, mud, floating Kottu-mee cups were very much there with pointed elbows, ample derriers, hefty bosoms and smelly armpits (I am of the opinion that deodorant must be made mandatory by law) that are occasionally shoved in your face (without your consent of course) with stray umbrella spokes jutting out in life-threatening angles - it was a potentially fatal experience. Knowing full well the dangers of this perilous pilgrimage, I nevertheless set out quite resolute, umbrella bared, hair tied up, booted-up for weather and wearing my carefully mastered and manicured 'I will bite your balls off' look, I set out for the wilderness with a fluttering of heart.      

And I survived! Fingers numb, shoulders aching, but heart soaring! 39 books for less than 10K and I am left dumbfounded!

The book fair trip for me is like climbing Sri Pada - you know it's going to be hard, you know it's going to be an uphill battle all the way and you know it can be fatal, but you do it anyway over and over again, sometimes even more than twice each year because you know that the view at the top is completely worth it. I however, much to my heartache, could only visit once this time. Usually I go the day right after the opening, taking a day off from work, but alas, having recently changed livelihoods, I can no longer afford to do that. So I had to console myself by only visiting it once - on a weekend too - the reason that even after so many days my shoulders are still in shock that I put them through what I put them through that day and my calf muscles feel like they are made of stone - if stones can hurt as much.

Gaah! Now I know what stretching myself to the limits really mean *winces as lifting arm*

Needless to say it was a sensorial extravaganza. Sweat, unwashed hair, damp clothes, (why can't people smell nice? I like people who smell nice) trampled grass, mud, hot dogs, dog excrement, perfume - it was simply too much for my over-sensitive nose. It gave up half way and I was glad - for once.

The only thing good about the rain is that it seems to wash away the pervy folk from such venues as well. I received next to no unnecessary attention this time (probably because I was looking very dangerous wielding two very dangerous looking knapsacks on either shoulder, possibly containing machine guns and god knows what else). Of course there were the usual stare games and one or two even opened their mouths to comment but one look square into their eyes made them swallow whatever they were going to say- as is the case most of the time with these gallant gentlemen with so many complements, comments and opinions about the opposite sex. If you look like you will put up a fight, these spineless mongrels will often give up.

Oh but the rain was but a little inconvenience to the teeny bopper Romeos. Little boys young enough to be my nephews coat tailing and I almost asked - yes, child what do you want. While I am flattered that they may be thinking that I'm closer to their age than I actually am (or maybe they have that older woman syndrome that every boy that age seems to be suffering from), it's very amusing when it ceases to be annoying. Really children, you must have a tighter reign on those hormones of yours.

On the plus side though, it seems that the book prices had gone down considerably this year! I covered the whole deal with less than 10K (that is about 1/3 of what I would usually spend at the event) and bagged quite a lot of gems this time! Sarasavi had a great collection with whopping 20% and 30% discounts and I finally managed to bag a complete works of Edgar Allan Poe and a complete illustrated Hans Christian Anderson for just 1200/- something each! I quite liked the Godage stall as well with their large amount of Sinhala classics and poetry. (managed to bag another GB Senanayake, woohoo!) Vijita Yapa lacked variety but from what they had they allowed 20% discounts. Makeen was filled from top to bottom with these new age candy floss vampire chronicles and attracted a teenage crowd that liked to block the aisles oh-so-casually chatting with each other. And despite braving the teenage giggling battalions, I failed to find anything of value there. Dean the Bookman didn't have anything for me this year either but he assured me that he will bring his most cherished valuables to the Good Market to which I agreed. I did find this other gem of a second hand bookshop there (of which I forget the name) where I found a few beautiful specimen priced at Rs 150/- each. How cool is that!

Again as in my earlier book fair posts here and here, I must simply stress on the importance of a higher priced, redeemable entrance ticket that will control the unwanted crowd and for god's sake, introduction of shopping carts! While I appreciate the annual workout, I have no intention of spending the rest of the week as if I've been in a WWE championship match with the likes of Yokozuna, Big Show and the McGuire twins. The book fair is most of us bookholics' excuse to really play fast and loose and be all promiscuous with these sexy paged, nice smelling things and we want to do it in the most comfortable way possible. While we would be most skimpily dressed to brave the weather, stopping every two steps with one hand on hip, panting very audibly, sweating bullets and swearing at the next person who steps on our toes while balancing several weigh-a-ton bags on either arm is hardly the most attractive picture. Sigh.

Despite everything, I am looking forward to the next year's book fair already. My bookcases are overflowing and what with this year's books still sitting orphaned on my writing table for the want of a home, might I suggest a separate stall and discounts for bookcases and shelves as well at the book fair? The likes of us who are convicted bibliophiles would appreciate that, thank you very much.

Ah the many challenged of a bibliophile. If only I could find a livelihood where I would be paid to just sit at home and read what I liked!

        

Decisions, life & randoms

Sitting here, with a big bowl of chocolate ice cream with music revving up in the background, writing this post without a thought or any definitive plans for tomorrow. Life is good :)

I got a room full of books, unlimited time (well, unlimited until next week) and a head full of food ideas! Couldn't be happier!

Well the food blog takes most of my time anyway. Check it out at http://peckishme.com/ (This is an unpaid commercial brought to you by peckishme.com :P) Making food, remaking them till I get them absolutely perfect, taking pictures, editing them, writing the posts - it's happy time. My dream job would be for someone to pay me for making food and writing about it. I can then dream up of the craziest combinations to cook up all day everyday. Which is what I do anyway, so why not have someone to pay for it while I'm at it. Meh.

I also discovered that no matter how many onions I chop, I will still be dribbling tears off my chin like a baby every single time, even in another ten years. I have known some pretty intense loves in my life but nothing and no one has ever made me cry like onions have. Just a whiff is enough. My mother says she has never seen anyone so sensitive to onions as I am. Onions, my darling dearest - we will never be together. We were never meant to be. Sniffle.

I took a big decision just recently, a decision that affects my whole lifestyle, I hope, in a good way. It was a difficult decision, albeit a necessary one. I am still wondering if I did make the right choice. My father very casually waves away my concerns 'well if you don't like it, you can still leave. You always find something else'. I have got a very cool dad.

I was recently asked to describe myself. It's a little frustrating when even I don't understand what I am and what I want half the time.

Well I am an Isabelle Allende sort of girl with an Edgar Allan Poe core. I have an inbred taste for the good things in life and I indulge, unashamedly in them. But I am not reckless - in fact, far from it. I think with my brain, a territory my heart is forbidden to enter. I recognize and have trained myself to keep the two apart - emotions and intellect - from a very young age - the reason I have not made too many bad decisions in life. Everything has to be logical, everything has to make sense.

Which makes me appear a little cold at times, but no - I'm just a little shy, always have been. Or what happens most of the time is, I just am not in the mood for conversation unless the other person makes an effort. I despise small talk anyway - I am hopeless at it and I hate awkward silences. But tap into a vein of rich conversation and you will find me all sparkling eyes.

Well, look at me going on about myself! Have I turned into one of those tiresome narcissists I wonder - me, me, me and oh, ME! But come to think of it, blogging is one sort of narcissism I suppose. Anyways,

I was talking to an acquaintance recently and suddenly he says to me, you remind me of a person I know. I ask who. He says Hannibal Lecter. Still not sure if that was meant as an insult or a compliment. Oh well.

I was getting all worked up about how people were responding to the lady who walked away with a policeman's helmet after being pulled over (famously referred to as the BMW lady which I think is pathetic), I typed out a post on it in a huff and a puff and decided that it was a little too rash. Now I don't have a diplomatic bone in my body and I do not apologize for it but why stoop to the level of the ignoramuses who are making fools of themselves in the public with their sexist and disgusting remarks I thought. For this reason, I decided that I shall postpone that post to a more convenient time.

I loath those who do not respect fellow human beings. Those who call themselves men who have no respect for the gender that gave birth to them - those who see females purely as conquests and nothing more. I loath those who call themselves women who look at men the same way they would look at a bank or an atm machine, to whom a man is nothing but purchasing power (seriously, have some effing dignity). When did we become so pathetic? At what point did we give up our humanity? It scares me.

Keeping all that aside, I need to figure out what I want the most. What am I passionate about? What do I want in life? That's easy - good food, good literature, respect as a human being and happiness. It's all very simple really. And that's exactly what I'm working on at the moment.

So let me just concentrate on that at the moment. Take one day at a time - that is my strategy from now on. It's a good strategy.

I made Gratin Dauphinois for dinner today. Coupled with my mother's special recipe cajun crusted grilled chicken, it was absolutely decadent. Still very full and dazed with the richness of it all. Shall dance it off. Ah bliss!  

Sunday evening revelations

Sunday evening vicious circle of revelations -

I haven't read a single book or watched a single movie in the past few weeks because I am afraid to start a book for the fear of not being able to put it down because if I don't put it down I wouldn't have been able to complete anything that I had to do.

And the worst of them all - Why have all these things struck me now? Because I haven't even been able to THINK for the past few weeks!

Wow, rambly much?

The point being, I don't remember the last time I sat down for tea with my family - a habit, rather a ritual of sorts that we have always cherished as a family. I don't remember the last time that I had a relaxed chat with my other half, enjoyed a lazy and leisurely lunch or a dinner together, taking the time to truly enjoy the better things in life and each other. I don't remember the last time I had time to be with myself, to really think about life, to be alone with my thoughts. 

Just realized that my life hasn't really been mine for the past couple of weeks. 

I've been struck down by this terrible flu for the past couple of weeks but I've been dragging my aching body everywhere despite the warning bells, ignoring its pleas to slow down. As a result, I am still suffering. The tragedy is, despite the near-death experience (10kgs lost in 2 weeks, coughing up blood, dizzy spells and etc) I haven't been able to rest a single day. Gets screamed at by doctor - "I can give you all the medicine in the world, but if you don't rest, none of it is going to help!". I cringe and nod. Mea culpa. 

Different people have different priorities and mine are family,happiness and health in no particular order. All other things in life - money, status, etc - well they just facilitate my priorities.

Which is why I've decided to change my life. Unlike most people I've met in life so far, I do not believe in staying where I am unhappy, constantly complaining, constantly grumbling, growing bitter and resentful in the process just because it is good for my financial disposition/career/etc etc (fill in the blanks). I am a peace loving person. If I love my workplace, I would do whatever is necessary to contribute towards the brand - not clench my teeth and invest all my strength into fighting my way into creating a stronghold against the forces and personal vendettas that make my existence in the workplace hard. It is an unnecessary waste of time and energy - energy that I could use to contribute towards the brand. I do not waste my time and energy on petty trifles.

I want to be happy, I want to enjoy what I do, I want to feel appreciated and as a policy in life, no matter what area of life it is - I do not stay where I am not appreciated. The illness has either driven me mad or opened my eyes (I will find that out soon enough), but I have decided to take a decision. It has been a really tough decision but I suppose it is a necessary one. How the universe has lined things up for me kinda sorta tells me that I've kinda sorta taken the right decision; albeit a rather difficult one. Well, I believe in being at the right place at the right time. Being at the right place at the wrong time does not do anyone any good. Timing is everything. Maybe I will come back once the timing is right. And maybe the time will never be right. Ah we will just have to wait and see now, won't we.

Sleepy. And god knows I need my sleep. I shall continue the ramble tomorrow.

Queen for a Day

My mother took out her Kandyan bridal jewelry yesterday. 

I have had no interest in weddings or of being a bride, ever in my life. In my childhood, while every girl dreamed of their fairy tale wedding and playing happy families with their Prince Charming husband, I trained myself in self defense and dreamed of ridding the world of injustice, that was, when I wasn't nose-deep in a book in some corner. I had attended hundreds of weddings with hundreds of Kandyan brides but never had I taken even a second glance at their attire. And up to this point, I had regarded all the going-ons around me with something next to indifference, it was just something that I had to do. But yesterday, everything changed. 

My mother opened up the sizeable wooden trunk that contained these precious jewels as I regarded the delicate tissue that enveloped them with the weary disinterest of a cat being nudged out of its nap. But as my mother gently unwrapped those little delicate bundles and laid each piece out carefully before me, my interest grew, albeit a little reluctantly. As I let my fingers run over their cool surfaces, their  elaborateness, their magnificent details, their sheer majesty struck me perhaps, for the very first time. As I took each piece and turned them over in my hand, the sheer craftsmanship of it really took my breath away. For a while I was speechless.

My mother gathered my unruly hair in one hand tied it away from my face as I stared at the delicate beauty spread out before me, still very much breathless. She took each piece of jewelry and placed them lovingly and delicately on me - all seven necklaces; the swan necklace, the dragon necklace, the red swan, the pendants, the agate necklace and the pethi (flower petal) necklace, the elaborate and heavy headdress, the exquisite hand bracelet with rings, the assortment of bangles, and bracelets, the sun and the moon and the marvelously designed waist adornment (hawadiya), each piece handcrafted with painstaking care. With each piece of this regalia - for these were the jewelry of the Sinhala royalty, with each piece of these adornments a symbol of a different kind, I felt myself transformed. The majesty, the grandeur of it all. I truly felt like part of something very special, almost sacred, so surreal. 

I get to be, Queen for a Day.

To be a Kandyan bride is a marvelous thing. Besides, which bride in the world gets to wear the sun and the moon in her hair and a dragon at her throat as part of her traditional attire on her wedding day? (Ok, maybe except for Daenerys Targaryen). 

I don't think any other bride in the world, except perhaps the Indian bride, gets to feel like this on their wedding day. The bride starts dressing at an auspicious time, the placing of the headdress by the bride's mother, performed with much ceremony at an auspicious time as well. I think for the very first time in my life I felt what it is like being a bride. So majestically splendid, depicting strength and steadfastness yet everything so delicate and feminine. My wrists, my hands, so magnificently elaborate as I've never seen them before. As I turned away from the mirror, still very much breathless from the resplendence of it all, I saw tears glistening in my mother's eyes. A moment of torrential tumbling emotions, deeper than the deepest seas. An untouchable moment, a moment that you wouldn't comprehend even if you had devoured all the books in the world and learned from the most learned men on earth. 

It was a moment that belonged to humanity and humanity alone. But no male shall ever know it. It was a moment that belonged to mothers and daughters alone. 

For the first time in my life, I actually wanted to be a bride. To overlook my trivial inconveniences of restricting attire, long rituals and be a part of a greater, much grander thing. Tradition. Heritage. Roots. A sense of belonging to something ancient and blindingly glorious. For the first time in my life, I actually knew what all the fuss was about. For the first time ever, I was excited to be a bride. And you know what the best part is? The best part is that I get to do it all beside the man that I have chosen to share my life with - my partner in crime, my soul mate, my biggest critique and biggest fan. I get to do it with my best friend.

Random ranting

My brain.....is numb. It's had a trying hectic week and it's going to have an even more hectic weekend, so I'm gonna just let it ramble on today. It needs to rant. It is overworked. I can almost see the fumes rising up, up and above, over the skull.

It's sometimes a curse to be a perfectionist. People take advantage of your inability to say no and eventually, you wear yourself out. Not good.

And why does Candy Crush become so addictive when you have an assignment at hand?

I need tea, lots and lots of tea. Milk tea. With some cinnamon, cardamom and a pinch of chili preferably. Oh I want to drown in it.

I also need a foot massage. Stress has gone to the legs. That and high heels. I wear heels because it is absolutely impossible to find a nice pair of shoes that do not have sky scraper heels. Yes, I have succumbed to the enemy, the enemy who wants women of the nation on several inches high platforms all the friggin' time.

I officially hate shoe sellers.

Yogurt is amazing. It's amazingly good to the body. I believe it is very healing.

I have been obsessed with this idea for white chocolate brownies the whole week. I have not been able to try it out though, not just yet. I planned to bake tonight, but now, I just can't be bothered. Sometime tomorrow maybe. Stress always makes me want to bake chocolaty stuff.

When I am sad I bake breads. Kneading dough is therapeutic. I like getting my hands dirty.

But tomorrow is yet another hectic day. So many things to do, so little time!

Have you ever seen the way how ladies at weddings open their mouths so very wide just get in a small bite of food just so they don't ruin their lipstick? I find this very funny. Well, they could just eat all they want and apply the lipstick again. I'm sure they must be carrying their entire makeup box inside their purses, unlike the less socially trained us.

Standards of beauty in this country are anyways very amusing. Rosy lips, fair skin, stick thin figure, straight hair - oh how boring. Funny thing is how the women folk try to achieve these things artificially. Bleaching our skin AND our hair, starving ourselves to death and applying all kinds of muck on our faces to appear just a little bit fairer. I think nature made us beautifully diverse. I think it is in this diversity that we are all so uniquely beautiful. If we were meant to look the same, nature would have created us the same. Like clones. I am proud of my imperfections. I'm chaotic, my hair is always a mess and I don't have perfect skin, but I cherish what makes me different. It makes me happy.

I remember something that someone once said to me. I was quite down and I said to him "I am a mess". "Oh yes you are a mess, you are utter chaos. But you are a beautiful mess and a fascinating chaos." he said and it instantly made me feel better. I like that idea, being a beautiful mess. A mess is spontaneous, a mess unearths certain surprising elements from time to time. I'd rather be a chaotic mess than be neat and very boring.

My ideal job would be where I would be paid to just eat stuff and maybe write about it. Or try out new recipes and write about them and I get paid enough that I can afford the ingredients for more new recipe ideas. I am a foodie and I might as well just be a "professional foodie" if ever there was such a thing. I have my own food blog anyway, so might as well get paid for my hobby. The best part is that I can even eat my job!

Having worked in several corporate environments and still working in one, certain things still amuse me a lot. I learn how immature people can be, worse than children themselves. I am amused to see how it can even become like High School - the "Cool Kids" looking down their noses at others, advising their peers not to "associate" themselves with the others because that would tarnish their "reputation". What these "Cool Kids" don't know is that the level headed ones are laughing their heads off at their retardedness. It really is entertaining.

It's all in the upbringing methinks. You have "Class" when you can freely greet everyone from a  director to the person who takes out your trash with the same warmth and friendliness, when you can treat everyone with humanity and kindness. "Class" does not come with a newly developed accent or your salary scale, it comes with your upbringing, your heart, it's in your nature. Pity that most people don't realize this.

Another thing I've realized is that, education too, makes a world of difference.

I like grounded people, level headed ones. I like honest people who aren't afraid to be who they are. I am by birth, allergic to bullshit. And over the years, I have discovered that those who try to cultivate a persona donning accents, attitudes and whatnot are actually really lost souls who have no identity for themselves. How empty their lives must feel, how dreadful. They must indeed, be pitied.

Moving on, it's almost 12 and I need to start working on my assignment. I plan to get some work done so that I can have some peace and quiet later on. Good night peeps, assignment period is officially on!

          

Festive times, happy times :)

It's that time of the year again! Such hustle and bustle, such activity and beautiful smells wafting about seducing the senses. A few burns and cuts are absolutely nothing. You brush them away and bury yourself ankle deep in your dough/batter/mixture again. These are wonderful times.

Side by side with Mother Dearest, two stoves, having a chat over boiling pots of oil, laughing and sharing cooking tips, gossip and frivolous banter, frying kokis in competition with the other and laughing at each other's blunders, these are memories in the making. Precious moments to cherish for a lifetime. When the time is right, I want to make such memories with my daughter too. These are intimate memories, more precious than what one could buy. When the flesh, blood and the bones are gone a long, long time, these memories are what will remain.

Skin smells of spices - cardamom, cinnamon, cloves and nutmeg blooms upon warm skin. Even after a nice cold bath on this unbearably hot and humid day, I raise my hands to my face and breathe in deep. The spices linger, middle notes, top notes, bright bold and ending sweet, serene and mysterious. What bliss! I could linger in this moment forever, but alas, forever in such moments are so awfully short. 

Beautiful days. Even the sun takes a break from its hegemony every once in a while. Still it is far too hot for comfort. Between iced teas, frozen yogurt and ice cream, life goes on.

Posted the recipe for kevum today. Do have a look! There will be more on its way from tomorrow onwards. Special Avrudu treats.

Life isn't perfect but one cannot deny that there are perfect moments. I don't attach much importance to superstitions of these festivals, but I do believe that we must celebrate these and celebrate these in essence. This is heritage, this is tradition. Without these, we will be shells. Just empty shells. 

Call me old fashioned, but I am a wee bit old school like that. I want to celebrate all traditions, I want to revel in my heritage. I want to get married upon a poruwa. I want to wear all seven necklaces, the sun and the moon in my hair and the traditional grandiose attire of Sri Lankan Kandyan royalty. I want to be escorted by a royal procession, booming royal drums and somersaulting royal Kandyan dancers. I want to boil a pot of milk on New Year, I want to eat, light the fires and start work for the New Year at the auspicious time. These things are special. It makes living worth the while.

Exhausted yet happy. Pumped up would be the word actually. There is much more to be done tomorrow - more cooking, more frying, more baking. Hello more blisters! Ah but they will be happy little blisters indeed! 

Await more recipes, essentially Sri Lankan, wonderfully unique. 

  

These rainy days

Rainy nights. Ooh I like this!

What I don't like is the pouring just when its time to get off work. I dislike mud with a passion. I dislike getting soaked after a hard day of work. I know, my relationship with rain is complicated.

Was stuck at work till a bit late today. Nights like this I rush home straight for mother's cooking. Nothing can replace that. Nothing.

After a warm wash, in my comfy pajamas, both feet up after having a full plate of mom-made rice and curry, I am a very happy girl :)

Afterwards perhaps, a nice mug of tea. Milk tea. With sugar. And a book for company. Oh I do love these solitary hours.

I have a certain quota for dealing with people per day. I can only deal with them until this quota expires. After that, I need to get away to recharge. Often time I do not feel like smiling or interacting at all. I need to be left alone when that mood strikes. This requires me to shut myself in my room and just read. Or write. Or simply, just be.

Yes I am a recluse like that. I often find company in a multitude of things and never feel alone when I am alone. I like my own company. It isn't too bad.

Completely random, something that irks me. Whenever I go for a client meeting, if it happens to be with a male colleague of mine, even though he happens to be my subordinate, the man is always assumed to be the boss and the only person who matters. Some clients have also been known to ignore me altogether right throughout. This used to happen quite a lot when me and my partner were working together.True that we both have our areas of expertise, but I often find people contacting my partner, rather than contacting me directly for matters pertaining to my area of expertise. I find this a bit insulting. Is it that it is assumed that a woman cannot hold responsible positions? Is it the general opinion that women are not strong enough to face challenging situations? Is it because women are not trusted to have the intelligence to handle complex tasks? Either way, it is rather insulting.

These days I have yet another preoccupation. My food blog! Finally, I have something of my own, something that I thoroughly enjoy doing. I am, in essence, a foodie and this is exactly the thing that I like to do. Cook, photograph, eat and blog about it! So far, it is going great. After all, nobody hates food!

Passing the bed time. These days I am determined to get at least 8 hours of sleep. I have my results so I intend to go on at it. Only tomorrow is a work day and after that, a long weekend that makes me smile just at the thought of it. Cz long weekend = sleeping in+cooking+just lounging about. Simply, bliss.

On yet another note, what I want to do most these days is just stay at home, lounge about doing nothing. My idea of excitement is great food and a great movie all by myself. What gets me all revved up is the thought of shopping for books and kitchenware. My celebrities are authors and chefs. Actors and actresses make me snort in derision and the mere thought of parties and etc just exhausts me. Am I growing old?

But come to think of it. I've never had a celebrity crush until Antonio Banderas. And then, Gerard Butler insisted on playing the tough man exterior - vulnerable interior Phantom of the Opera and got me all in a huff and a puff. That's it. I wonder if there is something wrong with me at times, to be so indifferent to the "heartthrobs" that everybody is swooning and salivating over.

Anyways, bed beckons and I need to answer when it does because I love it so. I am in a relationship with my bed. This is a relationship that had stood the tests of time, the only kind of true, unconditional love there is. We shall always be together. We are destined to be. Such, is my love for my bed, and all that it entails.

Yet another working day tomorrow, and a super stressful one at that. The only thing that stops me from going mad is the fact that it is only tomorrow that I will have to put up with. For now.