Ordinary

Simple people with simple needs. Go to school, find some work, earn, find a boy/girl with promising prospects, get married in a wedding that you cannot afford, build a house, get a car, make kids, force them into the same dreary rat race, get into debt in doing so, go partying, etc, etc. How very ordinary. It depresses me.  

The more I associate people, the more I realize how very primal we all are.

The majority just survive because they are born. And to survive we need to eat and have a roof over our heads, and we need money to buy those bare essentials. Hence we earn. In order to earn, you need an education (as per popular belief) and hence, school. In the meantime, the market has created wants that have amplified and modified our needs and hence the need to earn more to satiate the more complex wants. And thus the circle continues. And thus, the ordinary ensues.   

I sometimes wonder, are they really happy? When they lie in bed at night reminiscing of the day's events, are they really satisfied? Or are they too tired to think at all?

So this is how the ordinary life goes. You wake up in the morning and while half asleep, you are automatically steered to put on whatever your hand grabs and make your way to work, out of habit and almost in a trance. You come home brain dead, a mere zombie, ready to gobble up some dinner and fall into bed, only to repeat the same proceedure the next day. Weekends are for creating the illusion that you do in fact, have a life. Time is spent "hanging out" with "friends" taking pictures for uploading on social media, smiley faces, food and drinks. Some take pride in drinking oneself to oblivion with whoever wherever, convinced that they are indeed, living "the life". Thus is the ordinary, albeit the empty life. 

But ordinary is what is accepted, ordinary is what is condoned. Anything out of the ordinary is shunned. Blasphemy, sacrilege!

And I also realize that sitting here writing about it doesn't help either. Everybody talks, everybody writes, publishes passionate statements on their respective social media profiles. But how many are indeed willing to act on their words? A very precious few. 

 I've come to realize that people just want something to occupy themselves with, something to live for. Sad part is that they choose to occupy themselves with their respective careers, making it their whole lives. Without this they feel that they are nothing, which is why a career is so important to a person, some even sacrificing their personal lives for that. Its tragic that people don't recognize this restlessness with the need to have a purpose in life, something worthwhile doing other than just piling up money and power.

But then again, money and power can be helpful when creating that worthwhile cause at which you can look back and smile. Aie, aie, aie! There's no getting out of this, is there, this morbid cycle of cause, purpose and life! 

I'm convinced that I don't want ordinary.

An excerpt - Novel in the writing

 From the still very much under construction novel of mine. Only God and not even my disconcerted mind knows when it will be ready for publication. Until then, an excerpt. Written, on my way to work.

"This is a strange and a colourful land, its hues muted under so much muck and grime. Its people, much like its earth beneath its many layers of the concrete of westernization, modernization, zombification are moist and fertile. And much like the earth, if left untended, they grow wild and unruly with weed or just lie barren, tasteless, insipid. The best of its women are earthy and subdued. And motherly, caring, nurturing while being passionate and fiercely loyal. The rest, consumed by vanity, a plague brought on by modernization and the insistence of the modern world that the beauty of the exterior is more crucial than the interior, are just floating in the wind. Neither here nor there, life is one of convenience to them, love - a matter of practicalities. The true tragedy however, is the fact that they are quite content with what they have come to be today.

I am of the opinion that concrete throttles. The landscape is being throttled under concrete roads, plants and shrubs being controlled by concrete pavings, and grass being replaced by concrete pavements. The trees are trained in how to grow and where to grow. We train them, these century old trees which had been there, centuries before our very existence, how to be in the background, not on the foreground where they truly belong. We train which branches should be grown and in which direction and to which extent. Trees which do not adhere are either chopped off or simply, uprooted, torn off from the ground that they know best. Same as the people of this land. We are potted plants.

True, order is neat and beautiful, but so are the rows or Nazi soldiers walking together in their little killing pods. Disasterous.

Why has it become so very difficult to make friends these days? I suppose, as we grow and as we get burnt over and over again, we become more cautious about who we choose to let inside our lives. And for valid reasons too. I sense the resistance inside, I sense the reluctance. Smiling at a stranger has become oh, so difficult. In our childhood, a mere smile brings us together and we swear lifelong friendship to each other within a matter of minutes. But now, things are different. I suppose we have understood that while acquaintances can be many, friends can be less than a handful. All most people have is curiosity, they have no friendship to offer. And the times that the ones who you have accepted as friends and let into your life have turned around and lied to you, bit you back, hurting you in the process has been countless. And damned be us if we trip over the same stone twice. I suppose all these factors and more have made us more cautious. We are careful about who we let in.

And a simple fact. One cannot befriend potted plants."

Jam paan and other stories

I had jam paan today.

Nostalgic food. Brings a smile to my face everytime.

The last time I had jam paan, I must have been about 6 years old. Jam paan those days were these weirdly shaped coarse buns (to be quite honest, they looked like oddly shaped feet to me) filled with these chemical tasting red coloured jam (that awfully synthetic melon-strawberry jam) which sort of reminded me of cough syrup. I didn't like it much those days but today, my colleagues and fellow foodies at work were talking of getting kimbula banis (croissants Sri Lankan style) that I suddenly got reminded of jam paan. So that's the story of how I got to gobble down jam paan today. 

So after about 20 years today, I had a jam paan. Well, half of it to be honest as I couldn't finish one whole. I had expected the size of the jam paan to have gone down with our shrinking economy but apparently it hadn't affected the size of the jam paan as much as I had thought it would. But it had definitely affected the amount of jam that went into the paan. The jam to paan ratio was just sad. There was an awful amount of paan but a tiny amount of jam inside.

However, the bread was much softer, much delectable. There was sugar sprinkled on top which made the experience all the more nicer. The taste of the jam had changed too over the years. It didn't have the strong, chemicallish taste that it used to have before. And the jam paan somehow didn't look like a gnarled foot anymore. It was scalloped but more neatly so. It was jam paan nevertheless. We may have learnt to make bread from the Dutch but regular bakery delicasies such as Kimbula Banis, jam paan and the like - essentially Sri Lankan.  

Its Thursday and all my bones are aching for Friday evening already. I was thinking, maybe I should get into politics. Easy money that is, and any idiot can do it I guess. You just need to suck up to the right people and you are sorted. Oh, but extra malleable backbone needed to bend over backwards for them as well. I don't have that. My backbone is very stiff, too stiff at times, so stiff in fact that its hurting right now. Which reminds me of the dream.....

I dreamt that I was moving houses last night. I lifted large boxes here and there, of course, in my dream. Woke up with this terrible back pain that sent stars shooting through my head. Still has dregs of the pain and I can't quite move around freely. I must remember not to lift any heavy boxes tonight in my dreams.

Anyways, weekend approacheth! Friday tomorrow and looking forward to sleeping in late on Saturdayyyyyyyyyyy! Oh sleep! How I have missed thee! <3 nbsp="">

Why one should not try to quench one's bloodlust on civilians thirsting for clean water

Ok so I'm confused. Who exactly is our secretary of Defense? Gnanasara or Gotabaya?

Coz apparently it was the BBS (Bulshit Blaring Squad) Secretary Galagodaaththe Gnanasara who had ordered the attack against civilians of Weliweriya who had assembled together for the justifiable cause of obtaining clean water. So whos more powerful? Gnanasara or Gotabaya?

Oh wait.....has it been Gnanasara all along who had been responsible for the quelling of the LTTE terrorists and ridding the country of bloodshed and decade long terror? Is it Gnanasara who's responsible for the lovely ciy building projects that are going on still? Has it been Gnanasara all along who had been overlooking the defense ministry functions, thereby ensuring the security of the country? Was it that Gotabaya Rajapaksa had only been a figure head all along? My God! So this nonsensical "monk" who's been going around blabbering silly things had been doing something useful after all! Other than preaching Sinhala women how many kids to have and boycotting against contraception and halal food that is. That was very useful. *Saluts* 

Anyways,

3 are dead, out of which 2 are school children, aged 17 and 18, one of whom was due to sit for his A/Ls today. Shot to death they say. 

And then they said on the news that these people had died not from being shot but from being hit by stones. Where in the name of Kos, Del, Polos were these sling shot veterans during the war, equipped with enough skill to drive a stone through a human chest leaving only a tiny wound bearing an uncanny resemblance to a gunshot wound?? We could have saved a fortune on firearms and bullets with such stone slinging excellence in civilians if occupied during the war!

Anyways, makes one wonder. Why would children of such a tender age even paticipate at such a protest? Was it because eventhough they were mere children, they understood the gravity of the situation and because of the sheer arduousness of the situation decided to participate in the demonstration? Or has there been foul play where the civilians had been attacked at their homes, with the troops raiding houses like rabid dogs on a blood trail? Makes one wonder indeed. 

A factory belonging to the Hayleys Group of companies had been the culprit of dumping toxic waste into common waterways, thereby contaminating the water causing sickness and discomfort to many in the area. We see people that are known to us suffering with abominable rashes on their skin while many have had stomach problems and god knows what other havoc this chemical waste is causing within their systems. But has action been taken against the company in question? Has action been taken to relieve the ailing civilians? No. 

And then we come to the troops. Our sacred troops for whom these very civilians had performed Bodhi pooja, donated blood and prayed for the safety during the war. 

Eye witnesses say that it was with much excitement and enthusiasm that they participated in the quelling of the civilians. No questions had been asked and while much hooting and excited victory calls had been heard while they bashed and thrashed the civilians on their quest for obtaining clean water. There had even been reports where civilians who had fleed to a nearby church for protection had been made to kneel on the ground and been struck with rifle butts. Churches are holy grounds which had been considered as sanctuaries even during the World Wars. 

Blood lust. Whether the war had altered their minds or whether they joined the army to quench their blood lust, we will never know. 

Oh and the latest opinion presented is that these civilians were being led by terrorist groups or NGO's with the aim of toppling the government. May even be foreign conspiracy for all we know. Dearest darling government, not everything is about you, you know. These people wanted water, to drink to use in their day to day work. Toppling the government must have been the last thing on their mind as they set out on their quest that day. 

So instead of trying to cover the bloodspots on their hands by blaming these people, how about at least TRYING to help this time?  

 Nevertheless,

When we are small and we have been caught doing something wrong, we hid behind our mothers' skirts, hoping that we are invisible or that our mother will save us. My point being, we are all old enough to accept responsibility for our actions without hiding behind the robe. Shame on you!   
   
While all this is going on, there really ARE monetary minded NGO's, opposition parties and other opportunistic groups trying to reap benefits out of the situationas well. While trying to get to the bottom of this, one must keep an open mind and be aware of such groups too who are trying to ignite the situation. 

Let us hope, for everybody's sake that the situation gets resolved soon. May those innocent civilians get clean water, may light be shed upon the situation, may the culprits responsible be punished for their sins and may those poor children attain nibbana. 

And also, being a Buddhist myself, I strongly believe that monks belong in the temple, guiding their followers down a spiritual path, not on the streets lusting for blood. If one can't bother doing that, one can always meditate and try to attain some sort of spiritual plain. The idea is to practice compassion, not violence. Its people like this who give Buddhism, the greatest philosophy of all ever preached a bad name.






  

Inspired - In a tuk tuk

Written in a tuk tuk -

It is a truth universally acknowledged that tuk tuks are the bane of every driver's life. They wriggle their way through anything, come rain or shine, they wriggle, wriggle wriggle, a puff of smoke, a high pitched honk and they are gone, just like that. They scratch the body of your hard earned vehicle, knock the side mirrors off, stop abruptly, turn as they wish, cut in front of you, at the side of you, just behind you, etc, setting your nerves on fire while controlling yourself from getting out of the vehicle and boxing their ears good seems practically impossible.

But at times of extreme traffic one is simply driven to depend on this amazing wriggling power of these micro vehicles. The way they squeeze in between vehicles and just slide through the entire honking mess defies all kinds of physics ever known to the mankind. They know the shadiest routes, the seediest joints and they know the best bargains in town. They are well updated on traffic patterns and some even have their own little traffic networks to inform them of their traffic. They are quick to fling their arms around and curse but they are as innocent as milk sucking toddlers in front of policemen. Whatever said and done, they will get you to places in time, every time.

Great plastic grapevines hang from their dashboards while twinkling lights blink in this crazy pattern of dance, sometimes to the rhythm of the blaring music player, keeping time with the many potholes that the driver drops the tuk in. Cherubic toddlers and the like stare at you from the tin walls sometimes creeping you out. They do what they can, to make their little modest palaces on three wheels as attractive as possible.

These people are often philosophical and most of the time quirky with a blatant smartass streak. They are convinced that "Che Guevara want you to rebel" and I've never really figured out this obsession with Che or Bob Marley. Sometimes they offer advise while othertimes they just lather their attitude on you rather generously. The many quotes and anecdotes found all over these mini vehicles deserve a different post altogether. Its something to look forward to while on the streets and I think all other vehicles should follow their example and plaster some words of wisdom on their vehicle bodies as well. I mean honestly, its all paint and polish out there with just the tuk tuks providing all the entertainment. How very drab!

Anyways, the point being, I like tuk tuks. They are there for you in good and bad times and will take you wherever you want to go, down the narrowest alleyways and across the seediest neighbourhoods. These bumpy rides end up being quite enlightning (perhaps as a result of the brain being jiggled up and down everytime it falls into a pothole) at the same time giving you backpain (in the process of the brain being jiggled, your spinal code gets jiggled up too). Nevertheless, Viva Las tuk tuks! May you transport us, bth physically and mentally for many many years to come!