Bye bye 2014! You've been a good sport :)

Sunny climes are back again! Sweat trickling down the back, crazy frizzy hair and burning, scorching sun, oh how I've missed these!

Christmas came and went but the celebrations still continue. It is the season of burnt, cut and blistered fingers, aching joints and painfully broken nails but radiant smiles on faces. With the habitual Christmas dinner on the 25th at my place and the multitude of parties that precede and follow, the atmosphere itself is still charged with a certain restlessness, reminiscent of so many happy childhood memories. One day, I want to create such wonderful memories for my children, for them to feel the beauty that surrounds, to teach them to share what they have, just as my parents had done for me. I feel grateful, for being able to feel how I feel, to be able to conjure up beauty in the ugliest of situations and I hope one day, that I will succeed as a parent, to do the same for my own offspring.

I want to raise my children on tasteful music, hardcore literature and stark reality, none of that High School Musical crap for them. I want my children to know how to love and to live their lives in a way that makes sense. I want them to know the difference between the good and the bad. I want to teach them how to feel, how to reach out and help and most importantly, how to empathise. I want to create in them all that is grossly lacking in this world right now.

I have so many plans and expectations of my unborn kids that I almost feel sorry for them.

It's been a great year, one of my favourite years so far. It was a year of new beginnings, revelations, eye openers and disillusionment. I believe I emerged out of it all, a little bit wisened than I was before. I took some of the most important decisions I've taken in my life during the last few months and many more await in the horizon. Breaking away from what weighed me down professionally as well as personally has been a liberating experience that words cannot even begin to explain. I've always been fond of letting go. I am addicted to that sense of complete freedom and euphoria that follows, that infinite world of possibilities that open up immediately afterwards. I'm a letting go junkie.

The plan was to do one thing but when fate intervenes, one has to obey. But in order to do so, one has to look for the signs. Travel plans had to be cancelled, but hell, Europe can wait, South Africa and Indonesia can wait, universe had grander plans for me that simply could not wait. Today I am happy that I seized the moment when it barged right into me, yelling right at my face to grab it and grab it tight. Rather, the opportunity seized me and shook me till I came to my senses. And I am happy that I, like the obedient girl that I am (ahem) indulged. As a result, I am doing what I love today, spending more time with people and animals that I care about like I've always wanted to. This is proof that fate has never let me down, not even once.

But then, there are some decisions that fate dictates which depend on outside factors. For those, having done all that I can, it is up to the concerning parties to interpret the universe's hints and take relevant action. I am glad that I've achieved the maturity to understand that and simply, wait. I've also learnt to move on, having given such things a fair enough amount of time. After all, life only gives chances and grabbing or not grabbing them is entirely a matter of choice. And one cannot simply, wait forever.

I follow my heart wherever it would go. That is excepting cases which involve people that I care about who in turn care about me. There had been instances where I've doubted my decisions and regretted that the circumstances had not been so, and my heart had wept for the decisions I could not make. But the reward for the sacrifices I've made compromising my own happiness had truly been worth it. Today, I regret nothing as I rejoice in the happiness of those I care about. However, I waste no time on those who do not care about me. All the more love to go around for those who give a damn!

Whatever said and done, I've also learnt that it is not wise to place your happiness in the hands of others, whatever bonds that may prevail, whatever promises that may have been made. The past has taught me abundantly to prepare to be hurt, but give all of myself, do all that I can but with a certain sense of detachment which does not allow me to expect anything in return. Others will not be as careful of your feelings as you yourself will be, however close they may be, however you may have given yourself to them. It's not something they can help, humans are not made to read other people's thoughts and to know what hurts them and what does not. One must understand that and empathize. As Lord Buddha himself had preached, in the end all that matters is how much you loved, how gently you've lived and how gracefully you let go of things not meant for you. And I try. It is not easy, mind. Whatever said and done, you do tend to expect just that little bit of extra love and care in return. After all, you are only very much human. But I believe I can get there, step by tiny step.

2015 is a year of promise. It is a year of new beginnings and the continuation of old ones, all very positive. One goal is to finish the novel by the end of 2015, how this is to be done, I still have not figured. I am aware that while making a living for myself is important, it is also important to create something for myself, something that belongs only to me and no one else. That is how I balance this universal predicament of having to work towards someone else's dream. I make the time to work on my own. The ego is appeased that way, dignity is intact.

I want to read all the books in the world, all at the same time! Sometimes, I want to just shut myself in a room and just read and write. Is there something wrong with me? I do wonder sometimes.

I do not make resolutions for the new year. Because for me, every day is a chance to start anew. One needs not wait 365 days to turn their lives around. So no resolutions for 2015 as well. Instead I shall ride with my heart, just as I've always done.

Not even funny how fast the time flew by! 2014 ends in a few hours and 2015 dawns. And here comes the throttling hugs, the snotty kisses and awkward boob rubs from perfect strangers that seems to be something that you simply cannot avoid no matter what year it is. I shall stick to my guns as usual this year as well. Hugs are for those who mean something to me, people I care about. Others will have to make do with a handshake.

The Horror Movie Survival Guide

I'm a huge fan of horror movies, but that does not mean that I am not affected by the stupid decisions that their characters make. Rather, the directors. I do not sympathize with people who die in horror movies. As I am continuously flabbergasted by how horrendously stupid these people are, I consider them to be an insult to humanity and therefore believe that they deserve to die. Yes, I know that people do the most idiotic things imaginable when they panic, but this is just a whole new level of idiocy. So if you ever find yourself in a horror movie, here's a little horror movie survival guide for dummies.

1. When a car is chasing you, the middle of the road is probably not the best place to run along. Run into a building or a narrow alleyway where the car cannot follow you. If there are no buildings, run into the friggin' jungle, climb an effing tree, ANYTHING other than running in the middle of the road for God's sake!

2. One simply does not hide under the bed or between some scanty shelves when a psychopath is chasing you with an axe/machete/chainsaw, etc. One finds a legitimate hiding place or runs for dear life, screeching like a bat out of hell, as fast as your skinny legs in the tightest imaginable skirt can carry you, towards a public place where there are people. If you can't run in the skirt (and the heels), take them off! Being worried about flashing the killer should be the last thing on your mind. Besides, has it ever occurred to you that under the bed just might be the first place that the killer might look? No? It should have.

3. When one hears a sound when one is home alone, one does NOT go and investigate. Run to your room, lock the door and call the police. If it is the Sri Lankan police you might as well call your least favourite neighbour (because by the time the police finds you, you will be very dead and your body will probably be crawling with maggots) Neighbour option works. If your neighbour does not want to come, lure him/her with promises of food/sex or whatever else that rocks his world. At least if they don't manage to chase off the killer, they can still provide as a distraction by getting killed while you make your getaway. (Yes, faced with such dire circumstances, you are allowed to be evil like that)

4. One does not simply run upstairs when one is being chased by a killer where there is no escape route available. One runs out the door and onto the street where there are people. Relatively normal, non-psychopathic people.

5. One does not simply make sounds when one is in hiding. Bite your tongue if you have to but one does not sob out loud when one is inside a closet and there is a crazy killer outside.

6. One does not simply pickup shady looking hitchhikers along lonely roads. If you do, you are just stupid.

7. One does not simply sell one's soul to the devil. Unless you have a soul that not even a Mudalali in Pettah would buy. In which case the devil wouldn't accept yours either (Yes, be sad. Nobody wants you)

8. One does not simply walk into creepy looking abandoned houses. Especially if there are urban legends attached to it. Even if there are no legends attached, you simply do not walk into creepy, abandoned houses at night. Or burned down mental institutions. Or graveyards. Or abandoned hospitals. If you do, that does not mean that you are brave, you are just stupid. But if you are someone like me who does exactly what they are told not to do, try and go exploring during the day when the sun is shining.

9. Do not piss off old ladies. They are evil.

10. Stay away from dolls. Dolls are evil.

11. One does not accommodate static calls. One does not answer, especially if the telephone wire is found to be cut. And one does not hello-fy the phone if all you hear at the other end of the line is heavy breathing.

12. One does not pick up the receiver if a payphone on the road rings just as you pass by. Just don't.

13. Don't go chasing dogs, wayward maidens or even your friends who've suddenly gone crazy into the wilderness. Especially when there is a killer outside, Stay close to shelter and chances are, you will live.

14. If you are with a group of friends, don't split up. Really, why would you? Want to find a missing friend? Go together. Want to hunt or gather firewood? Go together. Want to go to the loo? Even then, go together.

15. You are at the steering wheel of your car, you have the keys, you have your foot on the gas pedal and suddenly, the killer appears at your side door. Why the eff would you just squeal like a girl and cower (as if that's gonna help) instead of flooring it and driving away? (To psychokillers - Do you really have to break the glass? Why the eff won't you try the door first? Cz dumb blondes like that never lock their doors)    

16. You are inside your car parked in the woods doing the naughty with your girl (or someone else's girl) Suddenly you hear a sound outside the vehicle. Why the eff do you want to play the hero, get off the vehicle and examine the source of the sound? You ain't Nancy Drew. Or Hardy Boys (Pun very consciously intended). None of your business. Just continue with the naughty. Or just drive away and get a room. Sheesh.

17. Don't play with Ouija boards. Just don't.

18. Don't summon up demons. Unless you can control them *grin*

19. Be the funny black guy in the movie. He never gets killed.

20. Or be the hero. Gets the girl, grows a sexy stubble also at the end of the movie (mamma mia!) and survives the attack (with sexy psychological wounds that can only be healed with plenty of kisses and lots of hanky panky *grin*)

21. Why does the dorkiest guy turn into the sexiest hunk once they turn werewolf? Or vampire. Why???

22. If you are attracted to a shady pale dude with sharp teeth and you have this overwhelming desire for him to suck all your blood, he is probably a vampire. Stay away. Or get turned a vampire and spend eternity with him *swoon* (Btw, place him in sunlight and do the sparkly test first. If he glistens like diamonds, just drop his sparkling ass. He ain't a vampire, he's just a disco ball)

 23. If your friend turns into a demon and tries to kill you, he ain't your friend anymore. All the whimpering and puppy dog eyes in the world shouldn't fool you.

24. You don't just shoot a psycho killer once and lay your gun down. Considering the fact that he just murdered your entire family and all those you love. You empty the whole barrel into the bastard, stab him a few times and cut off his head too for good measure. Then you rest, but keep the gun with you please.

25. When a killer is trying to strangle you, you don't resist. Pretend to just die. And lie very, very still till he turns to the next victim.

26. One simply must not bother running away from ghosts. They are ghosts. They will simply appear around the other corner of the road without batting an eyelid whereas you would be sweating bullets with your tongue rolling out the red carpet for them to come right in. Stupid.

27. House moving should always be preceded by a ghost or demon check. Or when hooking up with a new dude/girl. Oh and don't forget the psycho killer check.

28. Taking the path less traveled may not be such a good idea when you are in a horror movie.

29. Always lock the door when in the bathtub. And install a shower stall and make it transparent. Shower curtains are hazardous especially with serial killers around.

30. Be the boring girl/guy without a sense of humour, wearing the sensible clothes. They are usually the ones who survive.

31. Don't piss off women in general. Hell hath no fury than a woman scorned is true. I'm a woman and even I'm creeped out by my clan.

32. Just be nice to everyone at school. You never know who's gonna turn up at your reunion 20 years later and kill everyone who hadn't been nice to them.

33. If you are a descendant of some obscure bloodline with a shady history, don't ever go to the place of origin of your ancestors. Chances are, you will be pulled up for things your great great great (insert as many 'great's here) did thousands of years ago.

34. Don't go camping in remote, obscure places that you've never heard of. Especially if your friends are stupid. If you do, don't piss off the locals. And always listen to the local cop when they tell you not to go somewhere. But never trust the local cop.

35. Think twice before opening up locked doors or boxes that are chained to the teeth. They are kept closed for a reason.

36. If suddenly your phone starts ringing in an unfamiliar ringing tone, do not answer it. Phones are not supposed to do that.

37. Find an unfamiliar VHS tape or a badly edited video of random images? Don't watch it. Why watch it anyway? And if you do happen to watch it and you know you can't stop it, don't run around like a stupid cow and a half trying to stop what is happening, go bungee jumping, sky diving, etc etc. You're gonna die anyway. It's more fun being eaten by sharks than being petrified to death by a foul smelling, girl-like creature with a bad haircut crawling her way out of some obscure well.

38. And why oh why don't y'all lock your doors and windows?? It's like you want to be killed. Take it from the Sri Lankans. Put 5 different types of locks on the doors and windows, put a grill AND an alarm system. That way, if a door opens by itself, you can simply run for the hills qualms-free.

39. If the doorbell rings and you look through the peephole and there is nobody there, do NOT open the door! Do not go out leaving the door open to examine who rang the bell either. Really, how stupid can you get?

Because all this is a little too obvious. I've been on a horror movie marathon recently and idiots exasperate me. Anyways, just needed to rant. It's been a crazy two weeks and I can legitimately state that I am entitled to 10 years of sleep. It was a busy two weeks but an exciting two weeks nevertheless. Still quite pumped up and revved up to go, work can be fun when you are doing what you love best. Bit jittery on the personal front but I'm sure that should mend itself soon enough. It always does. I'm optimistic. Life excites me in general but at times, it gets me down. Ups and downs, all in a day's work I guess.

A long rant

Yet another glorious rant! It's been a while since I ranted away to my heart's content. Those of whom are bored out of their minds by random ranting, be warned. This is your cue to run several miles.

Been a crazy two weeks. Weekend had been non-existent. Work had been (dare I say fun?) but exhausting, for the lack of a better word. But it's amazing how quickly you can bounce back from exhaustion and all that it entails if you truly enjoy your work. For the moment, I do.

I am somewhat of a workaholic. I do not mind hard work as long as my work is being appreciated. What I cannot stand although is chaos. And lazy people. I don't like slackers. I like working with enthusiastic, passionate, helpful, genuine people. I like idealists. Even if they can be quite hard to work with, I like associating with people with a vision. In a world of plastic falseness where principles and personal ideals are as disposable as used tissues, idealists who are genuinely passionate about their cause and who will not compromise on their ideals are indeed, rare breaths of fresh air in a city congested with petrol fumes and cheap perfume.

It's disappointing how hard it is to find a descent human being with their ideals intact. It depresses me sometimes how I cannot seem to find at least a handful of human beings that I can actually respect.

I feel blessed. I am surrounded by people who genuinely care and that alone is the foundation I stand on. However, I've come to realize that people who matter are the ones who will make time for you to show that they care. The rest are just specks of dust unworthy of your attention. I'm choosy about who I associate with and so, my attachments are strong, having been saturated on only a few select, handpicked people. However, if I choose to add someone to my inner circle and my attention is ignored, it is personal and my interest too is eventually lost for good. I am a tad too sensitive than I like and am quick to shut down on people, at the slightest sign of rejection. Psychologically speaking, I'm an INTJ girl after all.

Why is it so cold these days? Really, I don't understand Sri Lankan weather. One minute we are all sweating the skin off our bones and the next, we are freezing our bowel movements. It's almost end of November and there is nearly no hint of that tingly Christmassy feeling at all. It was there aplenty few months back (and I've even questioned my sanity when I was feeling Christmassy in September), but not anymore. I don't think I will ever settle for a cold and gloomy Christmas, let alone a white one. Christmas for me will always be golden, happy sunshine, warmth and that searing but exciting restlessness that keeps you running round and round with stars in your eyes. It will always be a bit sweaty, clean hot skin, pungent from the sweltering warmth of sun-kissed languid afternoons. Christmas for me will always be the smell of cinnamon, of cardamom and baking cakes, of rum, fried things and marzipan. It will always be the smell of new Christmas decorations, the rustle and shine of tinsel, the twinkling lights of the Christmas trees of childhood. Christmas for me is chocolate fudge, laughter around the table, roasting poultry, frilly rich dresses and happy barks and warm furry hugs. Christmas for me will always be the smell of scented candles, memories of the beautiful times and wonderful, tear-jerking nostalgia of things that had been and never been but could have been.

I am already lost in the Christmassy world. But the sensations are long awaiting. Or perhaps I've been too busy to feel them? This weekend will be fairly laid back and I may be able to taste a bit of my own life once again, hanging out with the people that I care about. I've missed it all a bit too long! Let's see. But the main point is, the Lady has been happy :)

Culture shock

*This post is probably going to rub quite a few "patriots" the wrong way and I write this with the danger of appearing self-righteous and preachy. However, those with a modicum of brain power will realize that the aim of the post is not to slander or belittle one's own country, but simply to point out where we fall short as a nation or simply, as human beings. (those without are the reason why I have to put this explanatory note in the first place)   

Scene 1 

Setting - Melbourne International Airport. A girl stands in front of a screen displaying flight details.

Voice - Excuse me

[The girl turns around. Behind her is a gentleman around 35 - 40 years in a  business suit carrying a briefcase. He is smiling at her]

The girl - Yes?

Gentleman - I'm sorry, you must hear this everyday, but I will tell you what I came here to tell you anyway. I noticed you from there [points somewhere left] You are very beautiful.

Girl - [Looking slightly surprised] Thank you.

Gentleman - You are very welcome. Have a safe flight. [Picks up the briefcase and walks away. The girl stares after the gentleman slightly baffled but smiles to herself after a while]

Scene 2 

Settling - Bandaranaike International Airport, Colombo. Same girl slightly jetlagged passes immigration and approaches the Dutyfree shops

Voice - (loudly) Ah nangi! Dutyfree eken monawath ganne nadda! ('Ah nangi' is a common crude term used by Sri Lankan males to address girls in a playful yet derogatory way. Loose translation - Aren't you going to buy anything from the dutyfree)

Voice 2 - Poddak hina wenna ko (Smile a bit please) [Snickering, leering, hissing ensues]

[The girl stops and stares obviously dismayed but couldn't bother commenting. She walks away]


Scene 3    

Setting - The luggage belt at the Melbourne International Airport. The girl waits for her baggage and spots it. She tries to haul one by herself.

Gentleman - Let me help you with that [Waits till all her baggage arrives and loads them on to a trolley for her]

Girl - Thank you very much.

Gentleman - My pleasure [smiles and collects his own baggage]

Scene 4 

Settling - Luggage belt at the Bandaranaike International Airport, Colombo. The girl waits for her luggage, spots it and tries to haul it by herself. Couple of males around her, airport staff watch her attentively. Several males mockingly cheer her on but nobody offers to help. 

Voices - Haiyyen allaganna (Hold it tight) Balagena wateyi (It will fall in a mocking tone) [Hissing, snickering continues]

Scene 5

Setting - Melbourne Airport customs. The customs officer watches her smilingly as she tries to push her trolley in a straight line. One of the wheels have gone astray. She approaches the officer and submits her forms)

Customs officer - Good day! What have you got there darlin'?

Girl - Clothes, books, some spices, you know the usual stuff. Would you like to have a look?

Customs officer - Nah, no need. The spices are all processed yeah?

Girl - Processed and packeted.

Customs officer - Good girl. There you go, all stamped up. Oh wait, wheel trouble eh. Let me fix you up.

[He goes off and fetches another trolley, shifts all her baggage to the new one] There you are. Off you go darlin'

Girl - [moved] Thank you very much.

Customs officer - Pleasure. Enjoy your stay [Calls after her] Great driving hun! *grin*

Scene 6

Setting - Sri Lankan Airport Customs. The girl has been cleared off the initial customs check and is proceeding towards the exit. Another set of trainee custom officers gather near the exit and descend upon her.

1st person - Stop. Passport? [Girl hands over the passport]

2nd - What do you have here?

Girl - Clothes, books, some chocolate, the usual stuff.

3rd - Open the bags [The girl looks at them perplexed as she has been cleared off. A senior customs officer passes by]

Senior officer - (Calls out to the trainee lot) She's been cleared. Nothing to see there. Let her go.

[The group disperses reluctantly, looking at the girl almost grudgingly]

Scene 7 

Setting - Supermarket, Melbourne. The girl is at the checkout counter getting groceries. A girl works the tills

Cashier - Good evening! How are you today? (smiles)

Girl - Good evening! I'm good. And you?

Cashier - Oh I am doing just fine. You have beautiful hair

Girl - Thank you

Scene 8

Setting - Supermarket Colombo. Same girl out shopping. The girl working the till looks at the customer, takes the whole of her in, frowns and continues to check the items out with a screwed up face.

Scene 9

Setting - Road crossing, Melbourne. The girl waits for the lights to turn and crosses the road with her grocery bag. One bag breaks and some apples roll over the road. The lights turn green for the vehicles but not a single vehicle moves. Two gentlemen get out of two cars, help the girl recover the apples and carries her bags across the road. Then only, the vehicles start moving.

Scene 10

Setting - Road crossing Sri Lanka. The girl crosses the road. Vehicles barely stop but whizzes past almost brushing.

Voices - Ah sweetie! Koheda yanne? (Where are you going) Oya mara sexy kalla ah! ('kalla' being a derogatory term, objectifying a woman) Balagena happey (careful you will be hit by a car in a mocking way) Sha! Oya maarai anee. [Wolf whistles, hissing, cars honking, headlights flashing, leering, jeering]

Scene 11

Setting - Melbourne streets. The girl gets onto a bus, punches in her Myki and settles down on a seat. The driver patiently waits till she is well settled and then only drives off.

Scene 12 

Setting - Colombo streets. The girl gets onto a bus. No sooner does she have one foot on the footboard the bus pulls off with a jerk. She has to fight her way in with great effort, get her change out with great difficulty and hand the money to the impatient conductor who accepts the money grumbling.



What hit me today suddenly is, living in this god forsaken country, you kind of get used to the harassment, the rudeness and the general ugliness of people's behavior and it all becomes background noise. Once in a while when you do get out of the country do you remember, hey, humans are not so bad after all. These are everyday situations I've put down. I've chosen Australia because those are the freshest memories, but experience is quite similar in other western countries as well. It is this sudden realization that prompted me to write this post today, of all the days. You become used to these atrocities to such an extent that at the event of a small kindness like someone opening a door for you, you are surprised. This must not happen. We are human beings after all. Not animals.

Granted that our infrastructure, economy and etc might not be even as close to being developed as Western countries, but surely it does not take an awful lot to be civil to another human being? Trouble is, we take everything from the western countries - their extravagant lifestyles of car races, fine dining, clothing and even their accents, but we don't even attempt to make an example of their good habits. Is it because our life here is so hard, that our economy in general squeezes, wrings us on everyday basis in a struggle for survival that we can't even get ourselves to smile at another person and just be pleasant? Makes me wonder.  

We were once a nation that was known for the smiles of its people and their general hospitality. It's still there to a certain extent among those who live in villages that are somewhat away from the dirty claws of urbanization. But us the urbanized lot have become cultural orphans belonging neither here nor there. Walk onto a public space in Colombo on a weekend and you will be surrounded by clones - straightened, coloured hair, bleached skin, anorexic figures, fake accents with everybody looking like gene confused clones, everybody looking the same. Attack of the clones. Individuality is lost. Why would anyone want to look like everybody else, doing what everybody else does just escapes me. And this 'everybody else' just happens to be 'not Sri Lankan'.

Women have to be stick-thin, body-hairless, fair, have neat straight hair and be subdued in nature. Men have to be clean-shaven, fair, wear neatly pressed clothes, highly polished shoes and have neatly cropped hair. They may stand out from time to time, in a typical Sri Lankan setting, but globally, they blend in with the furniture. Who sets these standards anyway? Colonial mentality? I feel so.

For me an attractive man is someone who stands out from the crowd, someone who refuses to conform and is a gentleman in every way. A beautiful woman is someone who celebrates her individuality, someone who is comfortable in her own skin and is big, bold and deep in every way. Others are just pretty faces, background trees and rocks. Landscape - easily forgettable. Especially when they look and behave like everybody else.

Globalization is necessary but we must weed out the bad and take only what is good. But what happens is the exact opposite. It does not take a lot to be kind. It does not hurt to be civil to one another. As for sexual harassment, if you like the way a woman looks, it does not hurt to let her know that in a civil manner. Actually, we appreciate it and might actually like you as opposed to wanting to throw our shoes and whatever that hurts at you.  

An orphaned nation we are, not knowing where we belong, not wanting to know where we belong. But as all rootless trees go, a rootless individual is easily swept away in a storm. Pianos or drums? Choose one. 

Ramblings on a Sunday morning

The Lady is a happy creature these days. She walks with a spring in her step and a smile on her face.

A dogged determination to live healthy drives me these days. Well, healthy-er. Growing up with a health freak of a mother I've always learnt to eat healthy. Yoga is as usual and part of life as eating, drinking, brushing my teeth and the regular routine of life and I am fond of dancing. Being a bit of a creature of the night, sleeping was the only part that was lacking. I disciplined myself into getting into a routine and I now get 7.30 - 8+ hours regularly. The effect is remarkable.

I feel so much younger! I have so much of energy and so much of enthusiasm about life in general that it is crazy. No more feeling tired even before the day has begun, no more bouts of lethargy. There's just so much energy! Comments on how much younger and more fresher looking I am these days don't hurt either. All in all, it's evident that the early to bed regiment is working.

Sometimes I worry that I will outlive everyone. People have such unhealthy lifestyles these days. But I am working on keeping the people that I care about just a bit longer by inspiring them (which varies from bribing, coaxing to death threats) to live healthier too.

The behavior of  the male animal is truly fascinating. At the presence of a female of his species, the male animal will make sure that the female animal makes a note of his presence and will not leave until his mission has been accomplished. Especially ones with that much of extra ego who simply cannot stand being ignored. Next comes the demonstration of his assets. The male animal will usually puff out the chest, straighten his shoulders to make himself appear taller and broader. He will make constant displays of strength and power, all the time making sure that he appears prominent in the background. In simple terms, he will strut his stuff. At the apparent disinterest of the female, the male animal will often keep trying or lose interest whilst the most ego-ridden of the lot will take offence at the disinterest and will purposely and very blatantly ignore the female. It's all very interesting. That primal instinct of the male animal to showcase his strength and the capability to protect and maintain a family I suppose? It's kind of like a mating call. Simply enthralling. I like observing people.

Me and SLT have a complicated relationship. Sometimes it's love and most times its seething, boiling rage. I exceed my 40GB limit for the month fairly quickly (yes, it's SLT's most ancient unlimited package) and the internet becomes excruciatingly slow. Like I can have a good sleep and wake up while it loads kind of slow. When that happens, banshee mode is so on! Sparks and random objects fly with the tantrum session usually ending with a well spiced phone call seeped in chili to the 'Sri Lanka Telecom' with a suffering telephone operator at the other end, not knowing what hit em (I know it's unfair to unleash the whole width, breadth and the height of my fury at them but most of the time these operators are so obnoxious that you simply cannot help yourself. I dare say, you even derive a secret pleasure out of it) The connection just reset and I am somewhat appeased. For the moment.

To help people, to make a difference in this world has always been something that I've always strived for. Naive as I was in my younger days, I had always assumed that dedicating myself to a humanitarian organization would suit this purpose just perfectly. But older and (hopefully) wiser now, having observed organizational behavior and the nature of the human kind in general, I have eventually come to terms with the fact that if I wanted to help, I would have to do it in my own time. And I am at peace with that.

I have realized that happiness lies within me. Yes, this is a common quote that you see plastered across social media, FB timelines and yes, even bumper stickers. Cliched as it is, no matter how many times you see this, the moment the truth of this statement hits you, it's a form of enlightenment in itself. I have realized that no matter how selflessly you give yourself to those who you've considered to be your own, if you place your happiness upon them, you will always be unhappy. Because it is human nature to be selfish, even if they don't intend to be. Your happiness will never be as important to another person as it is to you. But it is okay, that is how it will always be. As difficult as this was to accept, I have come to terms with this. And I am at peace with that.

During the past couple of months, I have also realized that I relish, enjoy and revel in my alone time. I have learned to appreciate the precious time I get to spend with myself, my thoughts and I, and I've come to cherish solitude. It's a wonderful state of being where your happiness is entirely yours and you please no one but yourself. Alone time gives you the opportunity to look inside and ask yourself what you really want. Having a life companion who understands you and cares about you is all very well, but the understanding of oneself and what you want from life is quite something else altogether. I've realized that I am completely at peace with solitude. It is indeed, a blessing.

I have also somewhat figured out what I want from life primarily. But I have not yet figured everything out just yet. I may never will. But that's okay, you don't need to know everything at once. Normally I'd be perturbed that I am not sure about what I want but now, I am at peace with that.

The world is a vast place and I have come to realize that I have not even traveled a modicum of what it has got to offer. So the aim is to try and cover as much of it as possible. This year, I will not be travelling Europe as planned as it very well seems like the universe has way too many plans for me this year. And I am happy. Because life has a way of giving me what I need which may not always coincide with what I want. Although I do feel sad when things do not happen as I want, in the long run so far, things have turned out pretty darn great.

I've also learnt that if you lead your life fairly, justly and generously, helping those you can, when you can, however which way you can, not causing pain or harm to anyone, life always has a way of having your back, one way or the other. You see, universe has patterns. Everything in the universe happens according to a pattern and while the larger design may never be clear to us, it is up to us to recognize those little hints and nuances. It's a remarkable thing, this turn of events - if fate dictates (and you can see the signs well in advance in how facts and figures are almost incredibly interconnected, how certain opportunities have a way of getting missed by split seconds only to get reunited in the future and etc), things will happen in that specific order. I believe that the universe weaves the net of fate as we go or as they say, we write our own destiny in the choices and decisions we make. And living justly, generously and fairly is a choice we make every single day.

Besides, when you live in this manner, you feel that your life is lived and happiness becomes an everyday thing. And I wouldn't have it any other way :)  

Sri Lankan aunties and social conventions

Sri Lankan aunties. Sigh.

It does not matter that you have accomplished much more than they had ever achieved in their 50+ years or what their married with kids daughter/son ever will in their entire lifetime, it does not matter what educational qualifications you have in your bag, it does not matter that you are an internationally published writer whose presence is occasionally required at writing festivals worldwide, it does not matter that you are a sought after professional in your particular field of work, it does not matter that you are earning enough to maintain their family and yours. Hell, I don't think it would even matter if you'd won the friggin' Nobel Peace Prize at some point in your life. None of it matters unless you've gotten married. And had kids.

Yes, I am writing fresh out of a "oh so you aren't still married *condescending look*" experience. Ugh.

I come from that segment of the society when just as you turned 20, your parents start looking for a 'suitable partner in life' (Ah the sheer number of these 'proposed' fellows that I've scared away puts a smile on my face) If you are a girl, you are practically home schooled for the fear of you getting involved with someone 'inappropriate'. I have been a (relatively) good girl all my life. I don't drink, I don't smoke or do drugs. I have a near-perfect academic record and I did not even have a boyfriend till I finished school (not because I was virtuous like that but because I had snobbishly categorized all the boys my age those days as immature and shallow. Which was quite true). Its absurd how good I've been really. But still, I am considered a rebel, the black sheep, the rotten fruit and etc in this particular community. Why? Because at 27 years of age, I am still refusing to get married and play happy families.

I am of the opinion that these aunties should worship me. I've practically been a saint (Ahem. Well, they don't know anything. They don't have to)

I am not a feminist by any degree. I am more of a person who values individual freedom rooting for the freedom of choice, whether you are a man or a woman. Therefore I simply fail to understand why an independent woman (financial and otherwise) cannot choose her own life. It's not that I am boycotting marriage altogether. It's just that now is not the time.

I thoroughly believe that everything depends on the timing. If the timing is wrong, even the most perfect thing can fall to pieces. Marriage in particular is all about the right timing. It's not even about the right person. I have, so far, been lucky (or wise) in love. I have a beautiful relationship going for me right now with a beautiful human being and I have every intention of solidifying this wonderful thing with marriage. But marriage means change and it is quite a huge change at that. And as all change goes, it requires exact timing. So there is no way in hell that I am ruining this beautiful thing with anything less.

I also believe that if it is the right time, if you are in that "I must now settle down and start a family" frame of mind, you can just about marry/settle down with anyone and live with your choice, even if it is the completely wrong choice for you. Which is what most people, if not all, do these days. Sure you will have these occasional qualms and moments of screaming conscience, but you will learn to drown that out by other means - drinking, drugs, other men/women, work, etc being the most popular choices. People are driven to 'just' settling down because they are afraid that they are growing old/lonely/all the others around you are married/settled etc. Which are completely the wrong reasons to get married and settle down btw. With all that as it is, this choice usually ends up leading the people to their own wreck and ruin rather than salvaging them as it should. This is based on observation, purely.

True happiness lies in finding that one person who understands you, all your quirks and anomalies and is happy to be weird, quirky and abnormal with you. At the considerably ripe age of 27, I have come to understand that.  

In fact, here is the big, fat giant clue that you are with the right person - you simply want to become a better person. Why? Because the other person inspires you to do so. Because you want to do this right. If this happens inverse, then you've got yourself a problem.

Ok so back to the topic again.

Looking back, I am quite happy and content with what I've accomplished in life so far. It's a rare thing indeed for a human being to be thus satisfied and I am glad that I am. And throughout all these years, if I've understood anything at all about life, it is that EVERYTHING happens for a very good reason. Even the most crappiest of all experiences, the most burning of all disappointments, even if I felt that I won't survive those incidents at that time. All these have led me to the point that I am today. And I am in a pretty fine place right now. I dare say that I am proud of myself, despite what the aunties say. *A well earned pat on the back*

At the doorstep of another new chapter in my life. I get to conjoin two of my favorite things from tomorrow onward - Writing and food. Quite looking forward to this. So far, I've been blessed. As they say, if you do what you love, you will never work a day in your life.

Not that any of that will matter to the aunties. Not that I care either. After all, it's my conscience that I have to live with, not these aunties that become my bane at funerals, weddings, alms givings and etc.

I swear, they seem to just smell unmarried women!
  

Existential crisis

Bit of a mouthful, yes, But I have these every once in a while. Especially during the cold and flu season when the body is too tired to engage in anything else but the mind is working overtime.

I sometimes wonder why we are here. Surely not just to eat, sleep, work our youth away, get married when the time is right, make children and fall like flies when it's time to go? Are we the background singers to an opera masterpiece happening elsewhere quite unknown to us? Are we the backdrop of this brilliant theater piece and are ironically missing the most important part of the play? Are we the poor soldiers fighting somebody else's war ultimately falling away unnoticed with an illusion of heroism and grandeur? I have this constant feeling that I am missing out on something, something important, perhaps THE most important thing. I sometimes feel that we are all ants. Small, insignificant and quite pathetic.

Not that ants are pathetic. Ants are awesome.

I have been told that I think too much. But how much exactly is "too much"? How do we know when to start or stop thinking? How do we know when or if we should not think at all.

My father has always said that I've always been too old for my age, even as a 5 year old. Well, I do feel old right now.

Not physically though. I respect my body and treat it well. And I dare say that it is at least 10 years younger than it's actual age. What I mean is feeling old mentally. I feel resigned. Disillusioned. Not a fun place to be at all.

And then I wonder, why oh why do I need to maintain this body that is not even mine. The thought process is complex and never ending.    

I'm well past the stage where you feel the constant need to impress. I now do only what pleases me and I do not apologize for being who I am, making the mistakes that I make. If it pleases me to be a baboon tomorrow I will behave like one. I am well past holding grudges or vendettas. I am well past playing games. Life is too short for all that and I think anger, drama and all that pretentious crap are really very childish. Forgive, forget, cherish the moment and move on. Make lots of friends. But when you want to be alone, ditch them all and enjoy time by yourself. Make peace with rivals, incidents in the past, keep no enemies. If you want something, go out and get it. If you don't want something, trash it then and there. Love those who deserve your love unconditionally, without expecting anything in return. People are flawed anyway, but you can't fault them for that. Love because the act of loving makes you happy. There actually is no truer joy than seeing those who you love being happy.

 But then, there are the relationships that define us - parents, lovers, siblings, etc. However much we declare ourselves to be independent, there are certain things that one must do for one's loved ones and those things often weigh heavy on your mind. For example, as a respectable girl coming from a respectable family living in the not-so-respectable contemporary Sri Lankan society, I am required to find a respectable man, marry him, settle down, make healthy children, play happy families and etc. What if I don't want that, at least not right now? Of course you can refuse to do all that but in turn you have to risk breaking the hearts of your parents, lover and etc. Loved ones being my weakest point, there is no way in seven hells I would do that. Why? Because that would make my loved ones sad and that in turn would make me sad. Bloody vicious circle. Bloody emotional blackmail. Bloody weak me.  

And I hear William Blake's sarcy tone going off in my head - "The mind forg'd manacles I hear"

Anyways, I have come to realize that only love and love alone can make a person feel fulfilled. Love in all shapes, forms and nature. And that all sacrifices made in its name are not wasted and this is something I've learned overtime. And no, this ain't no romantic mumbo jumbo, this is true, disillusioned realism right here.

All these may sound like bumper stickers or cheesy social media motivational posts but they actually make sense to me now. Ever felt how good it feels bundling a helpless puppy in your arms and bringing him home knowing he will have food and shelter for the rest of his life? Ever felt how good it feels to help someone in need knowing that his gutter days are over or to be kind to some random stranger, only to see this surprised sense of delight in his face? That is the feeling to aim for.

I think most people just exist just because they were born. And then they turn around and call it living. I think everybody is just searching for a reason to live for and sadly for most, it's making the most amount or money or reaching the pinnacle of power these days. I personally think that what most people call as human greed is really this very human want of a reason to exist. Achieve one financial/power goal, feel that all too familiar restlessness again and move on to the next financial/power goal. I know plenty of people who end up feeling as if they have no reason to live when they no longer have a job. I know people who live for their job, have made their job their entire life. And this has nothing to do with finances mind you. These are people who are comfortably off, who have enough means to live quite opulently even without a job.

In a way, it's a blessing to have such simple needs, to be satiated with something so easily obtained as money, a job or a career. But what if you can no longer be satiated by money, a thriving career, recognition or even knowledge? What if along the way, you've realized (or you think you realized) that all those are child's play and that there is something bigger out there that you are missing out on but you are not really sure of what that is? Then the real problem begins.

You have only two options - (a) Find yourself a challenging career/occupation/engagement, etc and engage in it to such a level that you will forget that anything else outside that exists (b) Continue to search for that missing piece, constantly battling with this sense of deprivation. Of these, the first is almost always the preferred choice.      

Ranted enough methinks, blogging helps clear the head and sometimes it gives answers. Anyways, having a bad cold is not the best of situations. Sensory deprivation is the worst, the loss of sense of smell and taste. Been sneezing my brains off for a good three days now and I am getting quite tired of this now.  

Grumpus mode on.

Thoughts and rambling

Very much sleep deprived. The last few days have been eventful indeed.

The Darling is back! It's actually quite amazing how seeing somebody makes you realize how much you've really missed them. Once again, a big, warm hug is only just a phone call away :)

Being a bit of a loner anyway, I've appreciated the time alone. But being one of the very, very few people that I do not mind having around, his absence has been felt.

I've come to realize that I don't have a diplomatic bone in my body. Even if there was one, I couldn't care less honing it. I am blunt and quite straightforward in my dealings and I know some people find it hard to digest at times. I will never be politically correct and I am okay with that, if not happy. Life is too short to be caring about every Siripala, Mala and Sugathapala's feelings. Sugar coating just isn't my thing. I find it fake and offensive. When I say something, I usually mean it. And I appreciate the same quality in others as well.  It makes life so much more easier if we are all just brutally honest with each other.

I am a non-alcoholic. That is with the exception of that occasional glass of wine. I do not drink for the same reason I don't like to wear sunglasses. I want to see life, the world as it is. I want to be conscious every single minute of the day in order to experience life as it is. Life is too short to be wasting away in a drunken stupor. I know what it is like to get wasted, been there done that as one would say. But I've chosen consciousness over those fleeting moments of floating surreal sense-clouding. It's a conscious decision made by a mature self. And for all those who tell me to "live a little" when I say I don't drink, I would say, I am indeed living, a great deal at that. Besides, I can get high on fresh air, laughter and chocolate biscuits alone and therefore I do not feel the need to pollute and ruin my system with harsh distilleries. My body is, as cliched as it sounds, a temple. I respect it and treat it with care.

Plus, it's more fun watching the drunk people make complete fools of themselves when you are the only sober one in the room. Besides, who else will record their silly, drunken antics, philosophical albeit slurred verbal meanderings and threaten to upload them to youtube all their life?

I don't think I can ever be vegan. Or vegetarian for that matter. I love my food way too much to discriminate. Give up on milk, that gorgeous array of cheese, meat and poultry?  Not happening. Besides, I don't really see the point. I feel that this huge wave of veganism (is that what it's called?) is just a trend and I, by nature despise things, people and concepts that are not genuine. Maybe one fine day if and when I do see any sense of being vegan, I will perhaps, consider. But that one day seems far, faaaaaaaaaaar away at the moment.

If Facebook heroes solved problems, our world would be picture-perfect right now. I prefer people who take actual action, contribute in whatever little way that they can, instead of just prancing around and being keyboard activists by sharing pics of forlorn puppies, famished children or tortured animals. I find it all a little too sadistic (and not in a fun way). I like people who would spend at least a little of their earnings, time and effort for a cause that they believe in. After all, actions do speak much louder than words. Or FB posts for that matter. People who help those who need it the most here and now in whatever small way that they can are golden when compared to the mainstream junkies participating in numerous bucket challenges to support an unheard of cause in the other corner of the earth. Some indulge in blatant wastage of water purely for popularity increasing on social media while others are suffering acutely from the lack of water in the Anuradhapura, Polonnaruwa areas. Such is the frivolity of people here.

For the record, I have even resorted to blocking the posts of such people from my Facebook newsfeed so that I would not have to boil blood every morning as I am forced to stare at half skinned animals and deformed children appearing on my homepage, quite unasked for. All I ask is if you are passionate about a cause, get off your butt and do something about it. If not, please don't bother reclining in your comfortable perch in front of the computer, sharing, posting disturbing images and pretentious crap on your social media profiles. It's degrading. Not to mention downright irritating.  

We are a lazy, bubblegum nation after all. We have a twisted sense of reality and precious little clue about priorities and that's what the problem is methinks.

On a happier note, Phantom of the Opera opens tonight! Got tickets for tomorrow night's show and I can hardly contain myself. Theater up to this point has been a solitary excursion, what with The Darling not sharing my interest in the craft. He has had a particular dislike for musicals. I did not mind of course, since I had always been used to attending these events alone. But it seems that after Jesus Christ Superstar last year, The Darling is a changed man. This year he shares my enthusiasm and had been more than willing to accompany me to see the Phantom. I dare say Jerome has achieved in two and half hours what I have been trying to achieve for the past four years or so! Well, I'm just glad that there is someone to give me CPR in case I had a cardiac arrest from the sheer awesomeness of the show.

I find planning dinners exciting, whether it be a small family dinner or a grand buffet for 30. Heading off to the kitchen quarters in a while and shooing everybody away after they have laid out everything for preparing dinner tonight. I cannot be bothered with the details like washing up and prepping ingredients and I prefer it if someone else does it for me. In a few hours, the kitchen will be my playground to create, experiment and to simply, indulge in the wonderful aromas wafting out of the very cauldrons I steer *thunder clap followed by evil sinister laughing*    

My Annual Book Fair Post

Sweaty business. And heady workout.

Book Fair, why you no introduce shopping carts?

The Book Fair for me, is an all-you-can-carry affair. I can feel biceps and triceps coming up on my arms to rival those of a lifelong bodybuilder pumped with steroids and protein shakes (not really). But still!

And so it ends. Two visits, 33 books, aching feet, almost-dislocated shoulders, bag handles burned into palms, a yawning hole in the wallet and a huge silly grin that I just cannot seem to wipe off my face later, I am done with the Book Fair 2014.

Last year I covered the sights and sounds of Book Fair including the type of people you find there. This year I think I will stick to a largely general post.

One must be clad appropriately for this epic voyage. Clothes should be airy and light enough to allow maximum ventilation but one must be covered enough to avoid unwanted attention from all the Romeos and Don Juans roaming the premises as well. It's always advisable to wear shoes with a tiny, but very sharp heels. The purpose of these I shall explain later.

The Book Fair survival kit comprises of a bottle of water to keep yourself hydrated, a packet of snacks/a tea banis/gal banis/kimbula banis etc in case you are hit with a sudden attack of the munchies (or if you happen to get stuck in one of those never ending queues), 1-2 big shoulder bags in which you can store and comfortably carry all the books you buy, wet wipes, hand sanitizer, and tissues. Plenty of tissues. The humidity levels are skyhigh that unless you want to emerge from among the books and the crowds like you've just had a shower, it's always advised to carry plenty of tissues.

And then set out, wallet armed and pointed at the booky wilderness where shifty-paged game darts in and out of eyeshot and where maggi-eating, coke-sipping wild animals roam free, jostling, pushing, cutting into queues in front of you.

This is where the small heels come in.

They must be low enough for you to be comfortable walking around but sharp enough to cause some serious pain, if not damage. People are often rude in this country. They push, jostle, step on you and bump into you often without so much as a glance let alone an apology. Those who cut into queues at the cashier, they are the worst. Such people are often offered a well-aimed stamping on the foot and a sweet-smiled apology. One must either be disciplined or be stamped on, well and good

Heels also make you appear taller (duhh). And as the law of the jungle goes, the bigger animals are often assumed stronger and they are usually left alone. If my years in the corporate jungle has taught me anything, it is that appearances matter and that height, most of the time, helps. Especially when you are a woman. Coming from a family of long limbs and headstrong attitudes, I haven't really felt the need for heels but I do realize their importance. We all know that Sri Lankan public places are not the most conducive for a girl travelling/shopping or simply wandering alone, so heels come in handy when taking public transport, running errands and etc. Ever seen how certain animals puff themselves up whenever they feel threatened? Same theory applies here. Puff out your chest, shoulders straight and chin in the air, venture out into the world and you are most unlikely to get bothered. You will be attracting attention, you will be starred at quite a lot while some others will break into song as you pass by, but I am of the opinion that as long as they do not share their thoughts and opinions about you with you, you are just fine. And if worst come to worst, you can always remove the shoes and whack the annoying buggers with the heel. And it WILL hurt. With a mark to remember.

I am forever grateful to Godage Publishers. They seem to be the only ones who give a damn about the literary genius G.B Senanayake. Found a poetry collection of his I was looking for since a long time at Godage. Also one of Siri Gunasinghe. That on top of the heaps of Sinhala poetry books I purchased at the poetry stall (I forget what it's called.)

Sarasavi has been very forthcoming with their discounts this year. Vijitha Yapa had very polite and very helpful assistants while not a large collection of fiction. Jeya Bookshop while having an extensive collection was very expensive. Not much on the discount side either. Makeen did not have anything that I was looking for, yet their prices were reasonable. Couldn't bother with Gunasena cz I couldn't get a finger in sideways. Deen the Bookman had quite a few treats for me including a leather bound volume of Ivanhoe. I placed the order for a leather bound edition of Edgar Allan Poe's complete works and it's very likely I will get my hands on it very soon. I had just happened to notice that the volume I had is no longer there. I had probably lent it to somebody and as far as lent books go, it is gone. Erased from the face of the earth.

All in all, I am a very happy girl.

Although, I would once again suggest a higher priced entrance ticket for the Book Fair, just to filter out the people who just come sightseeing and have no interest at all in books., a ticket that can be redeemed when you buy books from the exhibition. It is a common sight to see people just wandering about, gossiping, poking fun at girls and harassing them (there are people who come to the Book Fair solely for this purpose), eating and just wandering around with absolutely zero interest in books. Unless a woman is holding it. By their boobs. A higher priced entrance ticket would keep the unnecessary crowds at bay, leaving those who are really interested in books to choose and purchase with ease. This would make the experience more enjoyable as well. And in turn, increase the book sales!

I look at my book pile and wonder, where the hell am I going to put them. But it doesn't matter. My room is in a state of perpetual mess, so it doesn't really matter where anything is anymore. Mother Dearest has given up on me it seems and just sighs at the sight of the room. Very audibly. I pretend not to notice.

Been a crazy week, eventful yet hectic. Personal and work obligations abound but I am not stressed at all. This is the ideal situation. I think I must try my hand at making gnocchi tomorrow. From scratch. Content days :)


  

A Funeral Post

I do not like funerals. They require me to be social.

I actually prefer weddings to funerals. Thanks to the very loud music that is usually played at these occasions, one is not really required to talk to one another. One can often get away with just a smile and a nod on these occasions. But in funerals, everybody is bored. So everybody wants to talk. Even if you are in no mood to talk. Which is sometimes/often the case with me. Small talk annoy me. I have nothing to say of the weather, the deco or how the bride/the body has been dressed. Both cases I usually sum up with one word - beautiful.  

That being said, funerals are awesome places to ponder about life in general, to people watch and to gather some juicy gossip. It's especially interesting if you are the type of person who has this uncanny ability to blend in and make yourself disappear when you want to, subtly observing the scene. Such as Yours Truly. As creepy as it sounds, it is indeed, a very useful art that everyone must master.

Sri Lankan funerals are second in grandeur only to Sri Lankan weddings. The deco, the seating arrangements, right down to the colour coordination of one's clothes, everything must be absolutely perfect. Even the most openly grieving person, all snotty and dribbling from crying is dragged away and dressed in the whitest clothes that are found in their wardrobes. The tents are all white with sparkling white canopies, great swirling bows and the works. One has to order the best there is. Even the chairs on which one props one's white clad butt has to be draped in white.

I've also come to realize that setting up the seemingly simple tent under which we so ungratefully sit is indeed a complex process that involves quite a lot of calculations, measurements and also, the public opinion. One often comes across these individuals standing next to a truck full of sheets and poles, gazing skywards, so lost in thought. These are the tent people. If come into contact, steer clear and leave the poor genius to his calculations.

Once a funeral, a bana or an alms giving happens in a house, the road in front of or adjoining the house, however public that area may be is assumed automatically, that house's property. As a result, tents are put up along the road sides, giving absolutely no thought to vehicles or pedestrians that may need to use that road, vehicles are seen to stop dead in the middle of the road in front of the house, quite oblivious to all the other vehicles honking behind it, to leisurely unload passengers, goods and etc while visitors who have come to pay their last respects are seen to wander all over the road, leaning on lamp posts, sitting on bonnets of vehicles that just happen to be parked there and etc.

It's very endearing to see how neighboring houses come together to support the house in question as well, although at times, this is done grudgingly. Gardens are sacrificed as parking space and living rooms, fridges and etc are sacrificed as storing space for both people and goods. Tradition goes that all meals are prepared and served in a neighboring house instead of the house in which the body is displayed. The logic behind it being, the grieving household may not be in a mood to prepare any food. Also that food must not be exposed to the many germs that the dead body would emit. Same reason why a lamp with coconut oil is burned at all times at the head of the body. The flame along with the coconut oil is said to be a good disinfectant. In the olden days, no one knew of embalming. Yet the body must be kept for days till relations from distant villages came to pay their last respects.

One does not simply have a funeral without the decorations! The gateway and a good kilometer or so from the actual house must be adorned with appropriate funeral deco, either cloth or cellophane, with big banners printed with the name and details of the deceased. Posters with the most flattering picture of the deceased, birth and death dates (some even mention their pet names. For example there can be burly looking tuk fellows nicknamed 'chootiya' or fellows stabbed to death in pub brawls nicknamed 'Sumudu') are plastered all over the place, atop the 'Stick No Bills' signs of walls. The original purpose of these decorations were to notify the people of a death in the village and to direct them towards the house in which the funeral is held. Nowadays, the main aim is prestige. The larger the radius your decorations span out, the more your prestige is. That is the norm.

In the olden days, these decorations used to be done with young coconut leaves, beautifully braided in intricate patterns which naturally whither and fall away by the date of the burial or cremation. I suppose one does not have time for these small lovely things anymore.

Nescafe machines are quite popular at funeral homes these days. The latest however are the iced coffee machines. Refreshments are just a button away. Gone are the days of serving Aliya soft drinks, bottles of Orange Barley or steaming cups of ginger tea.    

Funeral fashions are another important aspect. Long white skirts are in this season, often paired up with frilly white blouses. Kurta tops are equally popular, often in Egyptian cotton or linen with flannel or linen trousers. They are often accompanied with chunky, antique style jewelry, often from Barefoot, keeping in line with the Indian theme. Or the Colombo bourgeois theme. But all in white mind you. If you so much as dared to dress in any other colour than white, you are considered crude, uncultured and so godei.

Lace seems to be on the way out to my dismay. Pity. Such a pretty and sensual fabric.

Older ladies often wear the Kandyan saree paired up with pearl adornments, natural, cultured or otherwise with jackets stitched with good Broiderie Anglais. One often hears the female folk grudgingly complementing one another on their funeral attire, comparing fabrics and qualities. Makeup is subtle, but is very much there. Although some ladies when exposed to light seem like they've just emerged out of the mortuary themselves. Perfume  is a subtle floral, often white flowers. No Jar, Chanel N 5 or Coco Mademoiselle for funerals. Some just opt for body lotion and leave out the perfume altogether. Wise choice.

Menfolk disinterest me in their fashion sense. They are all very similar. Linen shirts seem to be the in thing these days. However, the occasional fashionista may get my attention by sporting a perfectly draped sarong. Perfect if it is with a long kurta top. I've always thought that knee-length kurtas look absolutely ravishing on the men folk. Especially if you have the height and the stature to pull it off. The trick I suppose, is to be comfortable in them. 

Most manage to smell delightful though. That freshly out of the shower smell mingled with clean linen and just a tiny hint of musk. Aided by a dab of good aftershave or cologne of course. How wonderful it must be to be a man. Their lives are so uncomplicated. Nobody really cares what they dress in as long as they are well scrubbed and clean! 

Meals are served buffet style and are often, catered. Gone are the good ol days when food is cooked from neighboring homes and is served real home style - string hoppers, dhal or creamy potato curry and pol sambol . Perfect. It shocks me how even alms are now catered. Mother Dearest of course, turns her nose up on such practices. So the tradition of cooking the alms with our own hands, unsoiled, untasted, with filtered water is still very much alive in our household at least. I mean, that is half the fun!   

And then there's the gossip. Oh my, this is my favourite part!

You get to find out who's dating whom, who's cheating on whom, whose marriage is on the rocks, who is trying to have a baby, who wasn't trying to have a baby but is pregnant now, whose son has gone to which country and etc. Of course all this information must be well sieved, divided by half, half-boiled, tempered and had with a pinch of salt and a generous sprinkling of pepper. Nevertheless, it is a privilege indeed to have a taste of such tales taller than the tallest sky scrapers in Dubai. Imagination - full marks.

And then there's the match making. "It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune (a job, a car or is simply of a marriageable age) must be in want of a wife" and vice versa. Companion accompanying the victim? No. Ring check - no ring. Dress check - appropriate. Face check - likable. Then barge right in and market your nephew, niece, son, daughter, neighbor's son/daughter to the victim and stalk him or her right throughout the day. Turn up at random locations (say for example, the entrance to the washroom just as you emerge) and smile suggestively at the victim, creeping the living daylights out of the person. Later on, telephone the victim's parents and express one's ardent interest in the merchandise. More marketing of one's own merchandise ensues. Call back after 3 days. Repeat process. 

Anyways, I know many couples who have met during funerals and gotten married as well, ironically. So you see, funerals do have their purposes.  

The meal of pumpkin curry, dried fish (main items) and other condiments which is usually cooked at home on the day of the cremation/burial (this is the first meal that is being cooked at home since the day the funeral happened) is also catered these days. Pumpkin is supposed to be very nutritious and dried fish with its high content of salt is said to be a disinfectant once again. The logic being, this meal should be a wholesome one for the folk at home, who having grieved so long ,are very likely to have not eaten as well. And it is to be a light meal as well since one who has not eaten for a while cannot stomach heavy food immediately. But I see items such as fish, mallum, chicken and other curries as well at the table these days. 

The practice of covering up mirrors in the house still escapes my reasoning. The theory of spirits being trapped in mirrors is a popular one, not only here but also in other cultures as well. Also the practice of keeping all doors and windows of the house open for 7 days till the bana on the 6th day and the alms giving on the 7th. One might argue that this is for the house to air out since a corpse had been in the house for so long and others may argue that this is to allow the spirit of the deceased to freely venture out of the house. 

All this reminds me that I haven't done a wedding post for the blog! Ah, how could I have missed?? 

    

I could get used to this

My biggest problem in life at the moment is deciding whether to read or to watch a movie. Occasionally I debate between cooking experiments. Writing doesn't have a specific time or a space. It just happens.

Mmm......I can get used to this.

These days, I take immense pleasure in answering the question; 'So, what do you do for a living' to which I reply 'nothing' and smile. I love the look on people's faces when I say this. A mixture of bewilderment and confusion as they swallow their next question or statement (which is usually based on whatever answer I gave as my profession which is usually either 'so where is the office' or 'that must be interesting'). Next they give an awkward, lopsided smile, not really knowing what to say and after about a minute or so, slip away to speak with the next not-so-offensive-looking person. This is my cue to hide my somewhat amused expression behind a paper napkin.  

The 'nothing' is not a completely truthful answer however, I'm afraid. I am actually working on several interesting projects at the moment which do not really bother me and hence, do not technically count as 'work'. Although, this is soon to change. I vowed to myself that I will not work full time again, but a fresh and challenging venture (and a challenge has always been my Achilles heel) has presented itself (I'm still recovering from the 'why now' stage) which I have already accepted to take up in October. Despite the traces of initial reluctance, I am somewhat looking forward to it.

On a different note, I caught the Anaconda video the other day. A badly directed softcore porno with a really annoying soundtrack. If you mute the audio, it can pass as an alright amateur, albeit high-budget porno I suppose. Really. Decide, Nicki Minaj. You can't present porn and (something that faintly resembles) music in the same disc space.

The increasing piles of books on the floor (and Mother Dearest's exclamations) demand that I consider redesigning/rearranging my room. It's been a long time since I ran out of shelf space (and other surface spaces on which I can prop books). I am thinking a book nook of sorts, somewhere all my present and future books can comfily fit in. This would ideally be comprised of a comfortable reading space for two as well. My head is full of ideas, but I'm not really sure if any of them are practical. Finding a good carpenter is next on the list.

Jerome de Silva is finally staging Phantom of the Opera! The moment I received the invite to the FB event, I had a mini heart attack and I'm sure I very audibly whooped. This is undoubtedly, one of my most cherished childhood dreams come true. It's like my prayers are being heard after all. Webber has always fascinated and inspired me, but this, is a masterpiece! Despite the many times and the many versions I've watched of this play (always on tape and never live), the moment the chandelier is unveiled, I get a terrible case of tingling all over and goosebumps. It's ridiculous! Once that box office opens, I'm going to plant myself in the Lionel Wendt and not budge till I get front row seats. I DEMAND them! After all, its only my favourite play in the entire world!

Been a relaxed and rainy weekend. I'm glad I ditched plans to go out and stayed put. And the Bookfair is coming up! Excited! There goes my savings :D

Untitled cz I suck at titles

Finally a breather after a very eventful few days.

Perfect Baudelairean weather. Appropriately dark and bleak, perfect conditions for scribbling or curling up with a good Gothic horror on the window seat. Weather teases us with hints of Spring and quickly runs away, hiding behind a somber cloud. I see muses climbing out the rain barrels and sliding their way along the roof tiles.

On a slightly negative tone, I am feeling a bit under the weather. Yesterday, I believe I was a bit delirious and apologize to anyone who crossed my path to whom I may have declared gibberish (under the influence of sleepiness, fever or sugar-high, I become a blubbering idiot. Or maybe that is my true nature shining through :P ). Bad throat, a throbbing head and a slight temperature. Phlegm has gotten the best of me.

However, I find fever to be a formidable muse. Quite persistent and at times, violent.

The occasion calls for me to be cheesy in public and say that I miss the man. It's been more than two months since we last held hands. I try not to think about it, keep myself busy. After all, days do fly by. Good news is, only a few weeks more :)

Can't help it. I'm an idealist. And a romantic sop. Bad combo.

I miss my room. I miss those old familiar walls that have seen much. They've seen me laugh, they've seen me cry, they've comforted me in times of apprehension. I've seen my happiness bounce off those walls, I've seen my grief contained within as well, those walls a silent, comforting presence. My room is cosy. It is home.

I get too attached to things, absurd things at that. It takes time when it comes to people, yes, as I have trust issues, but when I do get attached, I get ridiculously attached, a trait I am trying to curb. Not good this.

I miss the silent yet weighty presence of dad in the house. I miss his occasional clearings of throat or mild reprimands of how messy my room is whenever he does peek in. I miss the hushed murmur of the TV, volume turned down on the sports channel at night, thinking that I am working in my room.

I miss cooking for him. I miss the sundry discussions, future planning, dream-sharing, laughing at the many antics of Franky boy over afternoon tea. Oh well, just a few weeks more.

I also miss my favorite monster.

On home news today, Frankenstein Poopsalot is eating again and I try to skype with him whenever I can. Our interactions usually consist of father dearest holding the laptop down to him so that we can see each other and Franky boy barking frantically and trying to eat the laptop at the sound of my voice. I miss the old goofball. And his warm and sometimes smelly, but comforting presence.

Who would have thought that I'd be skyping with my dog.

Well, I am, a teeny tiny bit homesick.

What I've realized is I am fond of stories. That is why I read, write, collect books and watch movies. I want to surround myself with stories, all the time. I will probably make myself a fort with books one day. I like that idea.

Melbourne Writers Festival is happening these days. It's a fun experience, sharing experiences, thoughts and ideas with a bunch of like-minded people, a rare kind indeed. There are a lot of questions related as well. One of the most oddball questions that I've come across so far went like this; “Why is it that most of the writers I know have curly, unruly mops of hair? Either creativity sparks from crazy hair or brilliant people just do not brush their hair. Like, ever. Do you brush your hair?” It took me a while to get over my initial shock and then the spurt of laughter to answer that question.

And yes, I do brush my hair.

I was fortunate enough to witness penguins in their natural habitats just recently. Easily, the most magical nature experience in my life. St. Kilda beach provides shelter to a group of penguins who waddle home to their refuges under the rocks at the end of each day. It's such a beautiful thing to just watch them come home after a hard day. Some are shy and will withdraw under the rocks while most will just stand there and stare at you with a bemused expression on their faces. Some will flap their wings (?) frantically in an energetic evening workout, not giving two hoots about who is watching. Others will just lie on their sides, wings aside and just sleep upon the rocks. Like old grannies some would jump/flutter from one rock to another and waddle-waddle their way to wherever their little hearts desire. It was all I could do to stop myself from scooping one into my arms and squishing em in a hug. I wonder if he or she will have the same quizzical expression in their faces when I do.

It's a shame that my camera is useless in the dark without a flasher. It is advised not to use a flasher on these whimsical creatures as it can easily startle them and possibly, cause blindness. So I recorded them in my mind. The slightest whiff of that memory just makes me smile. This would be a memory that I would fondly turn to when life saddens me from time to time.

Longing for a proper Sri Lankan chicken curry, laden with spices and whatnot, preferably the 'kade' kind. Personally, I'm not a fan of chili (spices are all good, but I do not agree with the Sri Lankans' abuse of chili ruining the most beautiful ingredients. Indians on the other hand are more disciplined with their use of chili), but right now, I wouldn't mind one. There is no Australian cuisine per say, what constitutes of Australian cuisine is mostly steak, potatoes, boiled veggies and etc. Very bland and quite unable to satiate our taste buds being used to more vibrant and more flamboyant flavors. Asian cuisine is thriving here though. A little bit 'Aussied' but still good. I am hooked on Japanese these days. I've always been fond of Japanese cuisine but this is a whole new level of Japanese fondness. I dare daub myself the Mistress of the chopsticks now!

But nothing really beats the Sri Lankan chicken curry. Not for me anyway.

It's fascinating wherever you go, you carry the whole of your roots with you, isn't it?

Just another post on sexual harassment

Utterly disgusted by the way our FB heroes are responding to the Wariyapola incident. Actually left me shocked. It's just recently that I realized that this is how the majority thinks.

For those of who are not familiar with the incident, there is a video going around that shows a girl responding to a man who had harassed her in public. She screams at the man, hitting him occasionally. For me who had been no stranger to street harassment, I was glad. Women in Sri Lanka are finally taking a stand against the kind of harassment that makes it impossible for a woman to travel freely within the country.

What usually happens is that girls keep their heads down and pretend as if nothing happened, quietly fading away into the background when harassed. My years in public transport and in a local university where being a female language student who does not participate in their political rallies nor idiosyncrasies automatically gets you reduced to an obnoxious slut (their words), has taught me that being passive is not the answer to harassment. Cornered in many a bus, many a university corridor, I had always struck back. It is only when one does speak up for oneself that respect ensues and registers itself. I am glad that I took the time to train myself in self defense. Respect has to be earned. Silently enduring all only encourages more harassment.

I know the feeling of being harassed. It leaves you feeling downright wretched, broken and so dirty that you end up being angry at the whole world for not doing anything about it. Then you direct that anger at yourself for not doing anything about it and that stings even more. It's a terrible feeling that clings to you like a bad smell for weeks afterwards. Of course those who have never taken a bus in their entire lives would not be familiar with this feeling. Those of whom are fortunate enough to have everything handed to them in silver platters will not be familiar with this feeling. But majority of us who have to go about managing our own things by ourselves are thus subjected to harassment at various levels everyday of our lives.

It pains me how some people I consider as my friends, males, have responded to the situation. Of course they are not aware of what a woman has to endure everyday, simply making their way to work, running errands, etc. They do not get their bums squeezed, chests groped, leered and jeered at in public. No females (or males) bare their intimate body parts at them in the street or in buses (I have a feeling they would enjoy it if this happened) and neither do they get spoken to in pure Sinhala filth and obscenities. They do not get harassed at work places, be treated as if your opinion does not matter, just because you are a woman. They do not get degraded on the street, get put down to the level of a gigolo based on what they wear. So how can they possibly understand?

Some men even ask, "Why do y'all shout so much about this harassment and that harassment? Do you guys get so harassed? How come we never notice?". All I can say is, shave your faces, put on a wig, put on a skirt (doesn't even have to be short. Knee length will do) and try crossing the road anywhere in Sri Lanka. Try withstanding the honks, the flashlights, the obscene catcalls and deliberate bouncing-into-you episodes for two hours and come back and ask the same question.

Another famous byline I've observed in the same context is that you are "asking for it" by what you wear. The idiocy of such people astounds me. A woman should be free to wear whatever she wants to wear, whatever she is comfortable wearing or whatever that flatters her appearance. Yes, it is a given fact that the female body is more aesthetically appealing than the male physique will ever be, but why penalize the woman for it? Do we think that men should be raped when they go about shirtless or wear shorts? Of course not. Predatory mentality methinks, preying on the weakest. It makes them feel so much stronger, picking on the physically weaker sex, thinking that they won't be attacked back.

An underlying inferiority complex surfacing? I think so.

It is not gentlemanly to do so without a question. But then, gentlemen are a rare breed.

If there is one thing I cannot stand, that is rudeness. And all this is unspeakably rude. I believe people should be civil to one another, no matter what cast or gender.

Coming back to the incident, the FB heroes commenting on the incident want to find that girl's FB account. Ha! I almost chocked on my dinner reading the comments.

Another thing that made me laugh is how people assume such harassment to be compliments. Most of all women (whose accounts had female names but not entirely sure if they were authentic accounts or not) who attacked her appearance, saying that she should be flattered that this particular man paid her attention. It is a well known fact that the majority of Sri Lankan males would hoot, leer and jeer at anything with a pulse that qualifies even as faintly feminine. In a country where 80 year old grandmas are raped, explain to me how making one feel uneasy with lewd comments is supposed to be a compliment. One has to be very much attention depraved in order to consider so.

For those who claim that passing such comments, prodding and poking females in public are done in "jest", it must be made clear that those who prod and poke animals and torture them to death just for "fun" are mostly diagnosed as criminally insane when subjected to psychiatric care.

All I can say is living in a country such as ours, I believe that every girl should be trained to protect themselves. Mentalities of these lewd, tasteless and ignorant morons cannot and will not be changed. All we can do is prepare ourselves. As for attacking that girl for the way she acted, the way she spoke in that instant, who knows for how long she endured this kind of behavior? Who knows what she had gone through in her life till that point? Who knows what the man said to her? Who knows if that was indeed, her breaking point? Of course, the way she reacts is not ladylike at all and under any other circumstance, I would consider it crude and ugly. But I am of the opinion that if one acts in an ungentlemanly manner, they must be prepared for some very unladylike behavior.

It's like how everybody got so excited about Jaqueline Fernandez's hoppers at Rs 200/-. Nobody talks of Sangakkara's kade paan at Rs 200/-, Pol sambol at Rs 240/- and Kankun at Rs 480/-.

I am reminded of a part of a conversation that took place in the university many years back during the rag season. "Behave like a woman" he said, teeth bared in aggression, like a rabid dog, some pseudo-socialist creature with a huge chip on his shoulder who believed that being a woman is all about wearing long skirts and Bata slippers, plaiting your hair in a braid and putting up with all their crap, head hung low. The girl in question answered, with her head held high "if you behave like a man, I will behave like a woman". 

Rant & ramble

Not one to wallow in bottomless pits of misery and heartache, post heartbroken statements on social media and weep very publicly on my FB wall at the demise of celebrities that I hardly know. However, the death of Robin Williams managed to strike home. Brilliant actor that one. Grew up with his films and learned to love them, some of them even going on to becoming personal favorites. Its hard not to like him, cheeky smile, gentlemanly manners, crinkly kind eyes n all. His death is a little too hard to believe still.

An extreme example of the sheer, cruel irony of life, isn't it? He who made people roll over in laughter finally succumbed to his own darkness. Depression does not care about these things.

So Robin Williams is dead. And suddenly everybody is a Robin Williams fan. Its been two days and I haven't seen one of those ardent, passionate and heart-rendering Gaza posts on social media since.

Anyways,

On a more cheerful note, a new phrase was added to my vocabulary - A sunny day in winter

It's absolutely breathtaking when that happens. A syrupy sun casts perfect shadows upon the outside buildings, giving them that perfectly comfortable look you would only get to see in those old fashioned, all-American happy family advertisements. It's hard to describe. You hardly ever see such a thing back at home. 

A day off from all the activity, the shopping, sightseeing & socializing. Never thought I'd say this, but a break like this is very much appreciated. Even if it is from the fun stuff.

Had kangaroo meat the other day. I've put off trying it all these years but finally mustered up the stomach for it this time. Tastes like mutton, sinewy and quite chewy. Not a huge fan. But seated at an old school pub house with oldies rock playing in the background, sipping a martini at 11 o'clock in the morning (I am a lifelong non-alcoholic with occasional alcoholic moments), with like-minded company, it was a moment to cherish. 

Few days back we drove past the Hells Angels clubhouse in Fairfield. Last time I was here, I chanced upon a whole host of them leather-clad, be-hogged creatures revving past the traffic in all their glory. The roar of those gorgeous Harleys was simply, music. It is easily one of the most memorable, most beautiful things, I've seen in my life. Yes yes I know, they are no exotic species to rave about but still, these buggers sure know how to ride in style.

Quite chilly here, what with it being winter n all. Taking a bath itself is a ritual. First you switch on the heater in the bathroom and wait for it to get nice and toasty inside. Then you fine tune the water temperature to perfection, lots of knob turning involved. Then begins the disrobing ceremony. You can only take off one piece of garment at a time. One thinks twice before taking off one's clothes here *grin*

My hair loves the weather though! It has therefore, decided to be on its best behaviour and as a result, I now sport shiny, slow-motion-movie-style-tossable hair. My love-hate relationship with my hair has now turned into a completely lovey-dovey one.

The most wonderful thing however is, that people are in such a good mood here, all the time. Most of them are courteous, patient and quite endearing really. Of course there's the occasional grouch nut but that is a rare thing indeed. Being here after so long, its a blatant contrast from the eternally constipated, perpetually angry, screwed up and frowning mugs that grace your sight in Sri Lanka, or more generally, in most Asian countries. One exception is Philippines. Sweetest people.

Crows sound like ducks being strangled. Or Geese with their necks being wrung. So ugly. Made me yearn for the crow calls back at home. Sweet music.

Anyways, being here made me appreciate my complexion more. You see how blotchy, red and patchy the white skin can get and how much of foundation and makeup is needed, just to make it look presentable and you thank your lucky stars for your conveniently dark complexion. We can simply head outta the house fresh out of bed and we'd still look a great deal presentable. Even if we had blemishes, they wouldn't show under our beautiful dusky hues. Best part is, it has been scientifically proven that dark skin does not age that easily. The amount of melanin in your skin keeps off wrinkles and other calamities of old age quite easily. This is true to even our multihued Sri Lankans. Ever noticed how the fairer ones among us seem to look a lot more older just as they pass their thirties? Well, this is the reason. All the more reason to celebrate your dark skin!  

I seem to be missing the rainy season back at home. It is early this year, it usually starts in September. I am particularly fond of this intensely rainy, beautifully pungent season. So much for getting back home in time for the rain. Hope it is still there when I do get home finally.

Frankenstein is not eating it seems. Isn't the usual crazy brat as I hear. Father Dearest is of the opinion that he misses me. Despite the very pleasant time here, that made me want to run straight back home. Still, my business here is not yet done. I need to contend myself with the thought that he is in the capable hands of Father Dearest. Still. Worried. Very worried.

However, looking back, all my posts on the grouch blog for the past two weeks have been happy ones. Defeats the whole purpose of the blog methinks. Maybe I shouldn't have left work so early. For the sake of the blog that is :P

Typing away eating a peach with some yogurt. Beautiful combo these two. Peaches are out of season at the moment but since I was so adamant about finding some, I managed to hunt them down in a supermarket after a while. Peach and cream being the famous best buddies, yogurt is the perfect alternative to cream. Much healthier too. Not to mention yummy.

Speaking of peaches, I will end the post with a random quote by Dita Von Teese, an admirable woman, burlesque superstar and fashion idol. "You can be the most ripest, juiciest peach in the world. But there is still going to be someone who hates peaches".

I mean, who hates peaches?!?! Seriously. If anyone hates peaches, they can bring them to me. I will eat them all.