Well, after starving from the morning (didn't have breakfast and survived through the day with a fruit juice and yogurt) finally got to lay hands on that milk rice on the table at the auspicious time. Wonder who makes these auspicious times and stuff. Him and I need to have a talk.
But then, there IS a beauty of starving for a while and finally getting to stuff ourselves senseless. I'm guessing it must an ancient tactic to get us to really appreciate the food that we are eating and to develop patience and self discipline. And it works! It takes a huge effort to actually lie starving while you KNOW that there is this huge amount of food on the table just waiting for your snapping jaws to just devour em up and when you actually get down to the business of eating (after the ceremonial task of feeding each other a mouthful of milk rice at the auspicious time, starring at the auspicious direction) every flavor of the slightest significance just explodes in your mouth and sends you off to ecstasy. Mouthgasm I should say.
After much huffing and puffing ( a whole lot of smoke and eyes tearing from too much of smoke later), Mother Dearest, Father Dearest and myself managed to get the fire going in the little stove we built in the middle of the living room in order to make the milk pot overflow. It's almost like this family tradition although we could have very well used the gas stove for the purpose, we go the extra mile to fetch stones and timber and spend hours blowing, pouring kerosene and trying to keep the fire going. It's quite fun really, running around the thing, poking a stick in here, blowing off the ashes there and pouring more kerosene where it is needed. It's one of these Aluth Awrudu smells that I'm so very used to, this smokey, musky smell that it leaves afterwards and the soft smokey, dreamlike atmosphere. It's just so.......avrudu like.
I also like the milk rice cooked in a new clay pot bought just for the occasion. It has this earthy after taste that is just so sublime that you find yourself gobbling down the kiribath even if you're not that much of a milk rice fan. And afterwards it's nap time for the kiribath lovers of course. I had a long deep cosy nap which was disturbed by Mother Dearest who woke me up saying that we needed to go visiting.....with plates.
This plate business is something that is fascinating at the same time, somewhat annoying. While it is such a warm and beautiful sight to see people walking all over the place with covered plates filled with goodies hanging from their hands, mouths and elbows, knocking on gates, ringing door bells and all which gives you such a nice, homey sort of a feeling, it is equally annoying to sort out who brought which plate and/or napkin and then revisiting them with plates (once again prepared, arranged and covered carefully with your own hands, not to mention, carried by yourself as well).
Well, even the visiting part is alright except the part where they go ahead and serve you ( with all the good intentions and the good cheer of the season of course) with all the oil-oozing sweet treats that you have grown so sick of seeing ( you have already seen, touched and winced at the same stuff on the twenty something plates that you have already received not to mention prepared at home too) and you absolutely HAVE to take one and nibble at it for courtesy's sake (even though all you want to do is puke at the very smell of it). I SWEAR to God that the next time anybody offers me something oily or sweet I'm just going to throw up in their face. Do mark my words.
But as I said, it is such a joy to see all those people on the streets of the neighborhood pleasantly burdened with the weight of sweets prepared by their own hands ( or not) with love, knocking on gates or gaily calling out to one another. Everybody is smiling. It is the one day of the year that you get to see everybody smiling. The atmosphere is so ecstatic that you could actually cut the smiles and laughter in the air with a knife. Like you cut dodol....or kiribath......or milk toffees...Aaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrgh!!
Anyways, despite the many faults and deficiencies of the Sri Lankan human race as a nation, this is the one day of the year when everybody eats, drinks, bathes, lights fires, go to the temple (and even starve) as a nation, together as one. This is the day that every Sri Lankan strives to spend as happily and as extravagantly as he/she can, as his finances, his social situation allows him to be. The sense of unity and good will is so overpowering that you just end up greeting everybody that you meet a happy new year whether you know them or not. The ambiance is just so wonderfully warm and fresh with mouthed and unmouthed greetings resonating through the air. And I love every minute of it.
Not to mention the fire crackers. While our Doggie Darlings continue to hide under bushes, furniture and follow us around for the rest of the Awrudu season, I just cannot get enough of those sounds. It just gives that much needed boost to the festive glow of the honey colored Awrudu ambiance and I can see myself soaring skywards on a sky rocket and exploding in to a million pieces in turn, coloring the sky a beautiful golden reddish color. And the smell it leaves you after the explotion, the smell of burnt paper and burnt gun powder (??) is so exhilarating that it has become, in my mind, an essential, quintessential Awrudu fragrance.
As a child I have always loved and looked forward to avrudu. The main reason being, Father Dearest used to tie up a swing for me in a lower branch of our mango tree those days (the days when I was considered a very lovable child who deserved to be spoilt.....Sigh...). I would nag him weeks before the actual avrudu day till he climbs up to the tree ( he does not trust anyone else with this task as it needs to be tightly fastened to the branch for the sake of my safety) and ties up the swing for me with a rope and then climb down and attach a piece of wood as the seat for the swing. I would spend my days and nights in that swing, spin and spin on it till I got dizzy, go high up as I can, eat drink and practically live in it till at night fall when Mother Dearest would drag a reluctant, unwilling me in to the house, with threats and warnings of taking down the swing if I don't come in that instant. Ah....happy days..........
Avrudu has always been a very serious affair in our household. Everything is done to precision, with due respect and even the making of the food is done with an almost sacred sort of deference with our own hands even though there are domestic aids around. And I of course, enjoy every minute of the hustle and bustle and all the hullabaloo surrounding the frantically bubbly activities. Although it's a lot of work and the abundance of food ultimately results in going to waste, nobody complains. Everybody goes about doing their part with a smile on their faces and hope in their hearts. Mother Dearest I have noticed, is particularly bubbly when Awrudu nears. While some may consider Avrudu unnecessary, conventional bull crap, I consider it necessary, because all in all it brings joy, it brings hope, it gives you something to look forward to. Yes true, the world we live in is friggin' hypocritical and rotten to the core, but something like this at least once a year gives us at least an illusion of a rich and thriving culture to hang on to. And that's what we need to survive, to go about our days with a spring in our steps, something to hang on to, something to keep our heads above the water. Even though you are sometimes aware that it's a mere illusion, you are just glad that it's there. It is hope after all. We are all just waiting for our very own personal Godot.
I just love seeing people smile. There is indeed, happiness in the world and I'm just glad to be able to witness it with my own eyes. I'm glad that I constantly keep getting mesmerized by life and times, no matter how many times it has been repeated and how insignificantly small they seem to be. I know that I shall never stop being fascinated by life. I don't want to. It keeps one alive :)
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