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