Half a ton of brassieres unloaded on to The President's front yard

On breaking news today, half a ton of "brassieres" were unloaded onto the front yard of the President's House in an order to appease HE The President who was reportedly feeling "rather left out" after the bra-throwing incident at the recently held Enrique Eclairs concert in Colombo.

This initiative was headed by the organizers of the event after HE The President has expressed his displeasure at the aforementioned incident.

The 'brassieres' were collected from the female attendees to the concert, the event organizers said, having contacted them after the concert. Although the request was to collect the 'brassieres' that they wore on the day, it was clear that the females were reluctant to part with their more expensive and fancier undergarments, a trusted source said. "Most of these items are frayed, discoloured and emits an unpleasant smell which led us to believe that the participants released their oldest and the most used undergarments to us. Some were even too big to be their own" an event organizer said.

In an attempt to add in an extra touch of affection, the organizers contributed with their own jungis that they wore on the day. "Mine was a Calvin Klein, but since I haven't done the laundry that week, it was what I was wearing throughout the whole week. I hope The HE would like it" an enthusiastic event organizer said holding up a "Kiss me, Mr President" cardboard sign cut out of a Siddhalepa jumbo box.

A few male participants volunteered with their own colourful jungis for the purpose but the event organizers had to turn them down so as not to eclipse their own crowning jungi moment with The President.

The event organizers went one step further in trying to find a female to throw a 'brassiere' at HE The President as he exited the house for his morning jog, but they were unable to find a willing candidate for the purpose, a downcast event organizer said.

On other news, hundreds of stingrays had been seen fleeing the coastal lines of Sri Lanka yesterday, hiding their tails within their flaps. Baffled environmentalists report that currently, there are no stingrays within the coastal waters of the island.

       

Females are not your lunch time joke - dealing with sexism

Something that has always struck me and has begun striking me even more as of late – a woman may never be seen completely as a human being, an intellectual creature with the vices and virtues that exist in every human being. It would take an extraordinary human being, the kind that I haven't met yet to acknowledge a female in this manner.

Being a woman makes you invisible. Being attractive makes you invisible. Because it is only your body they will see, who you truly are will always remain unseen.

The unfairness of it just kills me – the incredibility that something so atrocious can happen in polite society simply astounds me. I feel insulted. I feel disrespected every f****** day of my life. Not just by men but by women as well. But this is something that we as women go through in our lives so much so that we have gotten de-sentized to it, that we just brush it off, laugh it off as if it is merely the dust of everyday life. We are displayed as objects before we are even acknowledged as human beings, we are sexualized at such a tender age when our minds are still innocent.

I admit, females are attractive creatures. As a woman, I myself think that the female physique is much more alluring than the male physique. It is more aesthetic, it is mysterious in its functions and levels of pleasure and lovely in all its curves and contours and it is okay to admire it. It truly is a functional work of miraculous art. But it is not okay to sabotage that beauty. It is not okay to penalize the female for their naturally bestowed artistry.  

I am not a feminist. I don’t think I have ever been one. I like looking good and indulge in shaving, waxing, plucking my eyebrows and whatever that is frowned upon by the “Feminists” of our generation, I want to have a family – to create life within myself regardless of those “why should the woman sacrifice her body shape to carry a man’s child” arguments, I admire gentleness and good manners in both men and women alike, I adore cooking and I have my food blog to prove that and I love my bras because I know that sudden movements fucking hurt without one. I have always believed that men and women each have their strong points – men are better at certain things that women aren’t and women are better at certain things that men aren’t. There is no contest, there shouldn’t be. There is a reason why we are made that way and I respect, acknowledge and embrace those differences. Nobody can contest with nature – no matter how hip, modern and revolutionary you are.

People often mistake politeness and courteousness as signs of weakness. This is the biggest mistake that one can make.

I think this is a conflict, a sort of a dilemma that any woman with a sense of self-worth and self-awareness goes through. True that most of the time we just numb ourselves to the sexism around us and smile through gritted teeth simply not to create a scene – at work, in the streets, even among your closest circles and we don’t even realize that we are doing that. It has become a mechanism. Most women go through their lives having fully converted to this twisted religion of submissiveness and self-debasing – a sort of a fetish that the majority of Sri Lankan men and women seem to revel in. We as girls are taught from a young age by our own mothers no less, that our brothers by virtue of having been born male are the more important family members. In such a context when even women deny each other their rightful status as equals, how can one even speak of equality and fairness?

And then there are the lot of us who do know our worth, who have been trained from a young age to make our own space in the world and are proud of our achievements. Nobody handed us anything on silver platters and as a result we have every right to stand our ground and not take any shit from anyone. But does it matter? Does any of it matter at all if all you get is disrespect and sexism from the society in return? I do wonder sometimes.   

What makes men overlook your stature, your status as a human being, as a person and simply stare at your chest or beneath the hemline as if no other part of you exists? What makes them make crude comments and rude jokes about the females that they encounter in life? “Can’t you take a joke?” they ask and tell you to take it easy. I really don’t see what’s so funny when they comment on how your dress makes them feel or what they have to say about your body. I don’t know how easy they would take it if a woman happens to point out that the sleazy smile on their faces makes them look like warthog bottoms.

What gives them the right? It is as if ‘women’ jokes are the coolest jokes in town. It is as if female colleagues in a workplace are simply pornography that they can masturbate to in their heads. What gives them so much power? Is it the advantage of physical strength that makes them so flippant about their masculinity? But living in a world where most menfolk simply sit in front of a television all day forcing fast food down their throats, I must say that women will be able to trump this in no time at all as well if they cared to stay in shape.

It is even worse when you find out that the people who you regarded as intelligent, sensitive and frankly ‘above that’ have stooped to doing the same. Makes you lose faith in humanity altogether.  

The point I am trying to make is this. All your education, all your intelligence and capabilities are eclipsed by the fact that you are a woman. And God forbid if you are an attractive one! People will create the illusion of giving you respect just to be in your good graces, but catch them when they are a little drunk or out of their best judgment and you will catch a glance of the ugly, desperate animal within – an insult to humanity as it were.

These are the problems that escalate, that get ugly and end up hurting people. One only takes notice of these things when someone is raped, or worse yet – raped AND murdered. They will say ‘oh poor thing’, probably put up some sympathetic FB post, rally around the town square demanding justice and after a few weeks, everyone will forget. But who will rally for the everyday sexism, who will speak for the belittling, disrespect and the insults of everyday life? If someone has to get raped or murdered for an issue to get some attention, then there is something so clearly wrong in this twisted murk of a society that we live in.  

As a woman, I refuse to take shit, I never have – not from anyone. I refuse to take part in this twisted little mind f*** that is this society. I thrive on being a woman, I think it’s a fabulous thing to be. And I hope anyone reading this, man or woman would think twice about disrespecting anyone around them – whether it be at home, at work or on the streets. Females are not there for entertainment purposes. They are not your lunch time jokes. My greatest wish is to see us treated if not as equals, as persons with brain, heart and soul. Females are not that crude anecdote you related that made everyone in your office laugh, or components of your dick humor which makes you ‘the dude’ amongst your colleagues. Females are not your blow up dolls, not physically and neither in your mind. It is not 'fun' or 'rad' to make fun of women. It just proves one to be an ignorant and bitter failure of a being, the 'human' part being somewhat doubtful. Your attitude is the big, bright beacon of your personality, the one that tells the world 'here's who I am!'. Would you like to be naked in the public with all your ugliness exposed, you must decide.      

  

There was the launch, and then there's this album! - Stigmata's The Ascetic Paradox

The Lady was not going to do a review - because after the preview, a review would have been a little.....much. But then she listened to the album. She listened to it once, she listened to it twice, and then she lost the count of times she listened to it altogether. And then this rant pretty much typed itself.  

The venue was buzzing and you could cut the electricity with a knife. When we got there (a good hour early since parking is notoriously difficult at the venue) the ticket tables were still being set up and familiar faces were floating all around with a mixture of purpose, nervousness and anticipation. The air was different, more different than what we have experienced at any other gig we have been to – this was more intense, more MORE. We knew something exciting was coming. I think everybody sensed it as well.

We were ushered up a dark hallway lined with light, just enough to find our way, with walls adorned here and there with backlit characters from The Ascetic Paradox (I thought this was appropriate since we were after all, in the Halloween month). We then arrived at the exhibition showcasing photos and various artwork inspired by the band over the 15 years. For those who had been following the band throughout their journey, this was a heartwarming experience indeed. Earlier band members, portraits of the trio who had kept the Stigmata brand alive right from the start – Suresh, Tenny and Andrew (from hair growth, hair fall, haircuts to seasonal changes in face fuzz), it was a little like going through a family album, watching the kids grow up. Unforgettable moments from miscellaneous concerts, the craziest hair lashes, the grooviest band moments that make you say – hey, I was there when that happened! It is a feeling of having been there - from the first album to the fourth – and in the process, seeing them grow from boys to men involuntarily.

However, having seen a lot of the photos that has come out of the numerous gigs through the years, we expected a collection of mammoth dimensions at the venue. 15 years is a very long time and as I have commented earlier, these guys are some of the most photogenic devils that I know. We were a little surprised by the somewhat modest collection we found there. Followers, fans and photographers had been notified to send in their Stigmata moments prior to the event and it was disappointing to see that perhaps only a few may have had responded.

From the exhibition to the auditorium. We passed Delish wafting delicious smells and ignored their devilish temptation and headed into the hall where we loitered for a while longer till the action really began.  

The band arrived on stage with masks in place concealing their faces. And with a hearty conch shell bellow, a thumping of traditional Sri Lankan drums strangely and delectably reminiscent of a traditional devil exorcising ceremony, the launch began. This was significant I think because many demons were exorcised that night. The demons of everyday mundane existence vaporized into the air conditioned interiors of the hall as the music delivered a sort of serenity and invoked blessings upon the mesmerized audience – blessings of the heavy metal kind. Maybe I was mistaken, but the frontman seemed nervous during the first few notes, a fleeting observance barely picked up by the audience but somewhat noticeable to us who have never seen him nervous throughout the past long years. This was quite endearing, because it was evident what this night meant for the members of the band. But within the first few notes, they owned it. They blossomed out like an exotic night blooming flower, spreading their fragrance, entrapping the audience within its enchanting spell. The stage was theirs, every eye, every ear, and every mind in the audience was theirs, each person swaying to the rhythms that the band so generously lashed out to the night.

To capture a moment in time within one’s fist, to fully own that moment with guitar strings, drum sticks and lung power alone and to bend and twist the captured time as they willed and to command the love and the attention of the biggest audience that we have seen at a Sri Lankan metal concert, how glorious a thing it must be! This is exactly what Stigmata did that night – they ruled the night, they ruled every mind, heart and spirit that occupied the venue, burning bright and white. If only we could rule the world like this – with love, music and communal head banging!  

Well, let’s just say it was a good concert *looks around shiftily*

A gravity-defying moment

The album in its entirety was performed that night which was a gutsy thing to do and the best part was that we got goodies and memorabilia to take home as well – the album to slowly and leisurely savour, a customized shot glass, The Ascetic Paradox fridge magnet that doubles as a coaster (like hell I would keep any dirty glasses on that gorgeous thing), customized guitar pick each carrying a character from their mind-boggling album art, The Ascetic Paradox poster and a customized card pack, each card beautifully elaborated with a character from the artwork itself. I gushed and rambled on about the artwork on a previous post so I am not going to do it here. But I must say that the merchandise is truly marvelous.  

So here is my share of the merchandise

Since coming home with us, the album has not had a rest. It’s hard to describe this album, within itself a paradox. There is a larger Sri Lankaness in it than what we have experienced in any Stigmata album before, a more earthiness firmly based on Sri Lankan soil. There are toe-tapping baila beats (baila beats you say, in heavy metal??), groovy Middle Eastern tunes, the ever resonating Sri Lankan drums – the insistent thump that makes any Sri Lankan heart beat – it’s a curious mishmash of wonderful and unlikely things, and every single note within it a discovery. It’s easy to see that the band had put their heart, soul, flesh, blood and every fleeting ounce of energy into it because it’s tighter than (chee, you buggers) a closed clam and more solid than a block of concrete, so much so that it makes you shrink back a little and hiss - what sorcery is this!

I have been playing this aloud in my house for over two weeks and I haven’t had (m)any complaints yet. I even found my father tapping his foot to a particular baila beat and my mother humming the mind-effing guitar tune from “An idle mind is a devil’s workshop” in between pruning the hedges with the giant pair of scissors (which was kind of worrying). However, my dog just makes this WTF face while standing very still whenever I play the album in his vicinity. Oh well….. 

The album starts off with ‘Our Beautiful Decay’. A deceptively funky rhythm intro that encourages a few jive moves of your own, evolves into the hard hitting stuff that evolves into a 6-8 baila beat that evolves into the hard stuff into baila and hard stuff again *pants*. Let’s face it, the 6-8 baila beat is in the blood of every Sri Lankan anywhere in the world and I am not surprised that it is such a huge hit amongst the crowd. However, it is the intricate weaving of Sri Lankan drums, baila beats and heavy metal that is truly mind boggling. This beautiful concoction is further enhanced by a set of labyrinthine lyrics, remarkable in its intricacy, deep in implication. Rich imagery conjures up vivid pictures - butterflies tearing their chrysalis and flying off to the sun only to be burnt like Icarus while he asks the audience “Are you dancing in the shadows?”. It’s mad, it’s magic, it’s mayhem and it’s marvelously catatonic. In the end you come out of completely cleansed that you feel free of the grit and the grime of everyday existence once again.  

Our Beautiful Decay has been played at gigs so many times before and I believe that it is with this song that they initiated the making of The Ascetic Paradox (or was it “And now we shall bring them war’?). And personally ever since the first time I heard it, I’ve been waiting for a recording of the song because it’s unusual nature (and also Tenny’s fabulous dance moves on stage to the piece) had intrigued and aroused my curiosity. And as I predicted, I absolutely love it and I am not alone in this. I know,I'm psychic and I'm awesome.

The second song of course, ‘An Idle Mind is the Devil’sworkshop’ was released prior to the TAP launch and has had remarkable reviews and ravings since.  The third track – ‘(Still) Born again’ starts with a groovy acoustic session at the end of which the heavy stuff are handed out in abundance and brutifully. The fourth,  ‘Rush Through the Twilight Silver Slithering Stream (oh no, you won't be pronouncing that in a hurry) is another one that struck me with its clever and beautiful lyrics once again (I’m sorry if I’m going on about the lyrics, but I can’t help it ok).  “Society is indiscriminate - it's live and let live - live and let's kill” the singer is not only the minstrel but the prophet, the poet and the merciless critique of society. This is what I find refreshing about Stigmata music – its ability to not only serenade the ears, but also to speak to the mind.

The fifth track “Calm” is a beautiful ballad that serenades, lulls and cajoles the senses. Here is a track that has that unmistakable Stigmata touch upon its delicate skin, a vision for the mind, a cool, soothing balm for the soul. It jolts you at all the right places and calms you at others – that perfect balance of love and fist like in those perfect romances! And we all thought that ‘Lucid’ would have no rivals!

The sixth – Axioma is the brutalicious maiden who will continue to seduce with a gun pointed at your head. It’s heavy, it’s ravishingly lovely and surprising in its delicateness of expression and it is totally badass. Needless to say, we are in love with it.

One of my favourite shots of the trio singing "Let the Wolves come and lick thy wounds"

The seventh track of the album, “Let the wolves come and lick thy wounds” (‘not your spoons, your wounds’ as Suresh would say) was one that I had waited impatiently ever since I heard of it first. Mainly because I was swept right off my feet by the collaboration of Sanjeev Niles and Suresh de Silva in ‘Cadence of your tears’ – a dark, deep and soothing lullaby that pierces to your core and lights you up (and it appears that I still haven’t finished gushing about that piece), and was curious to see what this duo (plus Chrishantha de Silva of Salvage of course) would conjure up this time. And also because we heard the piece performed once and despite the technical glitches in sound that day, I knew that this was going to be good. And I was right! (again, I’m psychic and therefore, awesome).

The track starts off with a mélange of Flamenco (?) guitar and Sri Lankan drums which gives way to an angelic chorus by the Soul Sounds choir and the mood is set for a peaceful and calming musical repose. But no! The chorus suddenly and abruptly gives way to the deep, dark, reverberating voices of not one, but all three of the trio singing (rather deliciously bellowing) the chorus of the song. The punch it delivers hits you at the top of the head and drills down to the pit of your stomach, with irregular intervals and jarringly unexpected twists and turns keeping you on your feet right throughout. The deep baritone of Sanjeev is unmistakable in this while the voices of Suresh and Chrishantha spring forth from within its depths and embrace your ears with a power that is truly enthralling. This is a track that is ingenious in every way and a collaboration (for we know that not all collaborations turn out gold) that was done just about right.

The eighth and the closing opus of the album is a 13 minute long monster that is varied, vivid and valiant in its projection. The 13 minutes in itself is like a grand epic with morsels of melody, spectacular sweeps of guitar wizardry and tenacious punches of brutality that leaves your  head spinning (in a really good way). It’s somewhat of a magician’s hat – each time you listen to it, you discover something new and the charmingly bizarre fact is, the same can be said about the album itself. If ever there was a grand finale to a grand album such as The Ascetic Paradox, this would most definitely be it. 

A special note on the lyrics of the album which were delivered to us in a mind-frying little booklet within the CD itself. The words speak to that part of you that not everybody can speak to and the imagery they evoke pulse ever so savagely – like the heart of a great mysterious beast in tune to the rhythms they are set to. They dance around you in this frenzy that is almost psychedelic, blurring the lines between fantasy, reality and mythology. Each imagery leads the way to another more powerful one with brilliant play on words, clever juxtapositions and metaphors that make you stop and think and once put together, make your heart skip a beat. This is poetry, storytelling and that intrinsic rhythm in language combined together in that signature disjointed Stigmata vibe. The booklet is more of a miniature poetry collection rather than an album booklet, handed to us with text arranged in vertigo-inspiring spirals, curves and arcs within it. We believe that the frontman/lyricist has really outdone himself this time.

Respect for a band that has held it together tight and awesome for 15 years

Here is an album that delivers hit after hit after hit of pure Sri Lankan uniqueness. Here is an album that has been carefully thought out and planned out that there are no loose ends. Here is an album that transcends boundaries and laughs at established rules – which in itself is no great shock for if ever there was a band that broke all possible rules and lived, rather thrived and rejoiced to tell the tale, that would be Stigmata. Here is an album into which the very essence of the band had been poured and here is an album that truly portrays how much the boys have evolved over the past 15 years. And it's pretty bloody impressive. 

An apt manner of celebrating 15 years of Pure Sri Lankan originality wouldn’t you say?

It would be uncharacteristic of the foodie in me to not compare something this good to some kind of a food so I would say that this album to me is like Sri Lankan Love cake – piquant and spicy delivering kick after kick, sinfuliciously sweet and fragrant, absolutely flavoursome with surprises and discoveries at each single bite, so very addictive that you can never have enough and essentially, very much Sri Lankan.

Also, I think a huge shout out should also go out to whoever had been instrumental in putting together this monumental album and the monumental launch that went with it. I do not know in detail what went on behind the curtains, but from what we have seen and what we have experienced during the launch, the amount of work and dedication that went into it is very much apparent. Everything went like a well-oiled machine - no glitches anywhere, at least nothing that we noticed and an event of such behemothic proportions does not get organized by itself. So here's to the folk behind the curtains, under the tables and beneath the stage - no more than an army of friends and followers who had gathered around the group over the years, brought together by the power of their music.

This much love and this much devotion! The band may not be making millions selling their records (for now), but in our eyes, they are a very rich bunch, blessed with unfathomable treasures.   

If you missed out on the 17^th October gig, know that you’ve missed out on something momentous, a chance of witnessing history in the making. BUT as it happens, the guys have got quite a few CD’s and goodies still left, so the good news is, if you wanted to experience this brutal beauty by yourself, you still can! Only a few premium packs containing the album, poster, card pack, fridge magnet/coaster, guitar pick and shot glass are left, so if you want them you better hurry up. Contact them on their website or on the Facebook group to reserve your CD or merchandise – and I must now, at the danger of sounding like an advertisement say you can’t afford to miss out on these for 2 reasons - 

1) this is something that shouldn’t be missed by anyone who appreciates not only good music but a good piece of art in general

2) these guys don’t produce these goods on a mass scale so once they run out, they have run out

...so for those who want a slice of this pièce de résistance extraordinaire, better grab them now. 

There is art that is borne out of commercial necessity and then there is art that is born out of the necessity of the soul to create something beautiful - anyone can feel the difference. While many albums have been known to shine momentarily with borrowed light and fade away into nothingness eventually, The Ascetic Paradox shows the world the difference between the two in rising above the rest and shining with its own luminosity. The Lady recommends this sublime experience highly. Because she believes that everybody deserves a touch of beauty, a peek into the divine every once in a while.

      

  

...and then there's the family picture 

     *Disclaimer - all pictures in this post (except the one with the merchandise) were sourced from the band's page which in turn were posted there by various individuals. The creative rights of the photos belong solely to them.    

On Soulmates, Kindred Spirits and the call of the universe

Why is it that everybody seems to be talking about soulmates these days?

For the past couple of weeks, I met at least 8 people with whom I had very insightful and rather unexpected discussions about soulmates and kindred spirits. I have spoken with many people about this curious soulmate phenomena before but this is the first time in my life that this kind of soulful discussions had been carried out with such consistency. Is it karmic, is it pure coincidence or is it just the rain? Or maybe, the universe is gesturing at me wildly to write about it. And when the universe calls, you've gotta answer.

Soulmates come in many forms - as friends, as lovers, as family members. And contrary to popular belief, there is definitely more than one soulmate per person (but none if you spend your life in eternal oblivion never really opening your eyes). When one hears of soulmates, one effortlessly jumps into assuming that it is a lover. This may be due to the sheer strength of connection that one feels between the soulmates and due to this, it is easy to jump into a romantic involvement in a heartbeat, but it shouldn't always be the case. I am not saying that it doesn't work out that way, in fact there is a very high chance of soulmates working their way through a romantic relationship than two complete strangers who have no connection with each other whatsoever. But I also believe that the universe works hard to help you figure out what exactly is right and if your instincts are sharp enough, you will be able to pick up on those signals and continue upon your intended path.

How would I know? Because I have had my share of soulmates in my life. My best friends had always been soulmates and there was a period in life where I had been friends with soulmates exclusively. And no, that was not lonely because if truth be told, one or two soulmates in your life is actually way more rewarding that a host of simply other beings surrounding you 24 hours a a day. I am currently in a relationship with a soulmate - the one the universe wants me to spend my life with I believe and who was also once my best friend. Soulmates have a way of shaping one another – of steering you towards your destiny whether you like it or not. My experience of being romantically involved with a soulmate is very vibrant. An evolved soulmate romantic relationship is characteristic of growing together, rising above the mundane, inspiring one another and moulding one another to be the best that they can be and I have been fortunate enough to be blessed with one. They bring out the best in you, and this can be very confronting and even intrusive as growth is not easy - it comes with having to deal with one’s own ego and having to see past it. Romantic soulmate connections are intense – you feel scarred by them sometimes and the imprints they leave, they leave for life. Happy moments are ecstatic and when it makes you sad, you droop to the very depths. But you can never, ever experience the deep connection that you feel, that satiates not only your your mind, your body, and your soul with anyone else. Yes, it is that special.

And when you sit down and trace your lives together, you will see that your paths have unknowingly crossed so many times before or that you have almost met before but as circumstances would have it, you have missed each other many times over as well. In some cases you will also see that at certain periods of your lives you’ve gone through the same things. You often share the same tastes, similar characteristics and you simply click – for example, my current partner and I bonded over a common interest in music and once realized, we went on to discover that music wasn’t the only thing that we had in common. And in most cases, the moment you lock eyes on each other, you will simply feel that electric connection – that uncanny feeling of knowing that person before, that strange familiarity, even though that is probably the first time you’ve met each other.

No, not love at first sight! That's just cheesy. This is different. This is something deep and reverberating. It is karmic and in no way have to be romantic. It's simply, a sense of knowing.   

Karmic connections have a way of finding you whether or not you are ready to receive them. As life would have it, I have had to reject a few soulmates in my life, purposely placed barrages in between to separate and placed boundaries because frankly, it is scary how intensely, how deeply you connect and how quickly. It's disturbing how it all tumbles on to you too soon, too fast and way too intense than you bargained for. Also one may have to reject them when they come at the wrong time and place and if your instincts are in place, you would hold up your hand and say, whoa there please stop and slowly back away. But no matter how much you distance them they will always find their way back to you, or you will find a way to keep contact because your soul demands it - some as close friends, some as estranged best friends and some, simply semi-strangers that you haven't quite gotten to know just lurking around the corner, waiting to be known.

If you are not attuned to your own soul, sometimes you can still be attracted to your soulmates not really knowing the reason, simply attributing it to something superficial. This is you answering your soul’s calling to find that missing something, but due to the un-enlightened nature of one’s own consciousness, you confuse that call with a more superficial one and askew that connection entirely by careless handling, therefore driving your soulmates away. This is when the soulmates in question are immature or have not yet properly evolved that you know instinctively that he/she is going to drag you under too if you attach yourself to them. In which case it’s better to stay away at a safe distance until the sooulmate finds their path – gently nudging them in the right direction perhaps, never really losing contact, always in touch. And timing most often in these cases, is everything as wrong timing can lead to driving you further apart. But to evolve, a person must be willing first. 

And then there are the Faux soulmates. On the surface, there couldn’t be a more perfect soulmate. You have similar tastes and interests, you even finish each other’s sentences. But in the end it just turns out that the other person has simply been mirroring you all along. One must stay away from them – they are toxic. This has been known to happen, and when it happens it’s good to be aware.
     

Soulmate connections are rare, and when found, even in the situation of the soulmates not really having attained the desired maturity and the correct timing, you must not simply let go. It’s good to remember that you are connected by something stronger than just attraction, brotherhood or sisterhood, it’s most often destiny or the possibility of being guided to your true calling in life. If properly put to use, soulmate connections can be very rewarding. But who am I to preach, I myself have a lot to learn on the subject. But I have always been an intuitive person and I believe I have experienced this wonderful phenomenon more than most people must have. Yet, I don't flatter myself. 

Universe! I ranted on. I hope you are happy. Now leave me alone :P  

  

A launch to remember - Stigmata hurls forth a Paradox

If you are above 20 years old, heck, if you are above 16 years old, consider yourself a music enthusiast in general but haven't yet heard of the Launch of the Year, I simply must ask - dude... what blessed boulder have you been concealing yourself under?

Ahem....the Lady is peeved *smooths her ruffled skirts*. Anyways,

Stigmata is releasing their 4th album this October and we are stoked beyond words. We have gotten a taste, rather a heaped serving, of what is to come and we are greedy for more.

Our Beautiful Decay, An Idle Mind is the Devil’s Workshop, And Now We Shall Bring Them War and Let the Wolves Come and Lick Thy Wounds have already been performed, heard and savoured, albeit with plentiful lipsmacking and needless to say, we dig what we’ve heard. And we have great expectations of this album which has been 5 years in the making. 

So we’ve heard four tracks already. Some of you may have already heard the full album (we regret having missed the full album hearing on the 5th, but then again, we assure ourselves that the pleasure is really in the wait). So why in the world would we want to go for the gig anyway? 

Well, realistically and logically speaking,

• Because the four tracks we’ve already heard is just a part of a grander scheme – one that will bewilder and bamboozle we are sure, true Stigmata style. They’ve piqued our curiosity as to what sorcery the rest of the album holds and you wouldn’t be able to keep us away even if you stuffed tomatoes in our mouths and locked us up in a broom closet. (minds out of the gutter yo)
• Because these guys are the masters of theatrics – no two performances are alike and you never know what to expect from a Stigmata concert. From random impromptu pieces till someone fixes their instrument, cartoon tunes from the past, broken noses to flying saucers, really, you have no idea what’s coming.
• Because, talent! Andrew (of course Andrew without his curly locks will never be the same as Andrew with his curly locks, but that’s beside the point) with his goosebump-inducing solos, Tenny with his quirky stage moves and crazy prodigious rhythm, Tharaka, with his badass drumming (now that Tharaka is back in the fold, all is well in the sonic universe again), the Stigmata cub – Lakmal with his sedate strumming and of course His Wackiness Suresh, with his versatile and vibrant vocals hold the audience in a hypnotic trance unlike anything we’ve ever seen before.  
• Because each Stigmata performance is intensely real, raw and intimate. The energy is simply electric and for each person in the audience, the experience is acutely personal. You won’t get this from any other band.
• Because each album that the band has produced throughout these years is intrinsically and ubiquitously unique. Each has its own signature personality. Now would this be a wizened old man, a preppy young lad, an elaborately feathered silver parakeet or half man-half lion with a pair of grand deer horns on head? Only the concert would tell.  
• Because a Stigmata piece is like a good pot of Coq au Vin. Apart from the deliciously juicy main tune, there are little bits and pieces, tiny morsels of decadence that you can nibble on, wonderfully brought together with a beautifully silky background theme that will leave you simply intoxicated in the end. No unpleasant hangovers with this one. Only thorough and beautiful addiction. 
• Because, well, eye candy! *ahem*.                                                                                                                 No other band has been known to be as photogenic as they are. These buggers know it and play up to it as well. Think theater, think flying hair, think micro facial expressions rivaling those of seasoned Shakespearean actors, think stage chemistry. Well, think Stigmata. 

• Speaking of being photogenic, there is also going to be a photography and artwork exhibition of pictures of the band taken by miscellaneous photographers as well as other artwork inspired by Stigmata and I am guessing that there will be an interesting collection of some hardcore stuff from throughout the years. A very tempting feature for any lover of photography and modern art I must say.
• Because since the sonic wizardry of Psalms of Conscious Martyrdom, we have waited 5 long years for the next and we sure as hell are not going to miss it. You shouldn’t either.
• Because one day you'd want to tell your grandchildren about the time you attended the launch of the decade and establish your cool granddad/grandma status.
• Because throughout their 15 years in music, they have always represented true Sri Lankan originality. In a world where creativity and authenticity are as rare as a maalu paan with actual maalu in it, we as Sri Lankans, are proud to have a band that has stuck to their guns right throughout, no matter what it had cost them.
• Because a lot of thought, effort, sleepless nights, blood, sweat and booze had gone into it and these guys fucking deserve all the support they can get.
• Because, rumour has it that this is going to be the biggest, most badass launch that the country has ever seen. They are definitely pulling out all the stops for this one – signed posters, pamphlets, custom made shot glasses, card packs and even (brace yourself for this) fridge magnets!  It’s gonna be so damn huge and you know it!

And the name of this killer-esque album? *Cue Drum roll*    The Ascetic Paradox! *Confused mumbling ensue*

Stigmata is known for their enigmatic album names that leave one’s tongue in Gordian knots and we are glad that the album name is actually pronounceable this time. (The last one was named Psalms of Conscious Martyrdom, the previous being Silent Chaos Serpentine). Not that we are complaining. Not being second to the band’s lyrics, they keep us guessing all the time and we like it. This is not brainless sugar candy – this is a sensationally wrapped package of thoughtful artistry for those who like to think.      

Which is one of the reasons I’m in love with these guys. Being academically trained to dissect and take apart every piece of literature and art that dare cross my path so much so that I do it almost unconsciously, Stigmata plays up to it, with thought provoking creativity every step of the way. Their lyrics are sheer poetry, one of the things that drew me to them 10 years back and had kept me there throughout the years. There’s a lot below the surface than just putting together some words for the sake of rhyming which is how most ‘musicians’ get by these days. Their music is complex - every component coming together seamlessly in perfect harmony, catering to the mood that the lyrics set. There may be a deeper meaning, there may not be at times – but what it definitely brings us is its thought inducing nature and powerful imagery with its famously signature disjointed vibe (think William Faulkner, think T.S Eliot, think Virginia Woolf). And it’s interesting to see how they have maintained this quality throughout the years.

Speaking of the album, the artwork is totally gush-worthy – hand painted by this amazing artist named Madhri Samaranayake (I don’t know her personally, but then again, I don’t know Salvador Dali either but I still admire his work), as was the case with all the Stigmata artwork in the recent past, it’s simply breathtaking and I suspect, tarot inspired (?) (a separate shout out and a hefty pat on the back to the artist. You are awesome!). The artwork comprises of six different elements and each element is symbolic. I am simply going to copy-paste the Stigmata definition of the artwork below.

The Martyr: always honorable, perpetually noble, yet suffers for something greater and beyond.

The Resurrector: Re-gifting Life and Light to that which has died or reached its demise

The Consigliori: The calculating strategist that counsels with honorable intentions and pristine foresight… the voice of reason.

The Torturer: The dominant predator that stalks, hunts and torments his/her prey, not without reason, not without purpose. At times for pleasure. At times for survival.

The Tortured: The prey and victim suffering at the hands of internal and external forces, tormented and broken – always spinning on eternity’s wheels. Society’s silent sufferer.

The Solitary Lamenter: The proverbial piper of reason. The sentinel of purpose. The last poet of society; the rose, the key and the door.

And it all comes down to….. *cue drum roll* THIS!

How cool is THAT!

Trust the band to come up with something as intricate as this.  

While the entire concept of the album continue to intrigue and seduce everyone who has crossed its path even once, I am particularly interested in this one track "Let the wolves come and lick thy wounds" in which Stigmata collaborates with Sanjeev Niles and Chrisantha de Silva. Now we all know of the time when Suresh de Silva collaborated with Sanjeev Niles and Raveen Ratnam of Paragon Productions (who is also interestingly, mixing and mastering The Ascetic Paradox) to create the magical masterpiece Cadence of Your Tears. And therefore we know that when these three get together, sparks really do fly like a dinosaur crashing onto a transformer during a massive thunderstorm. There are some great things in the horizon and we are very much intrigued.   

So the point being, don’t miss the event. Need more convincing? Munch on this awesome event trailer for some inspiration.

When, where, how, what, eh?

• Date – 17^th October 2015
• Time – 7.30 pm onwards
• Venue – British College Auditorium

Check out the official event page for more information, exhilaration and titillation. 

They are not stopping there. Stigmata is also taking Sri Lankan flavour to New Zealand this October immediately after the local gig and they are launching the album in Auckland and Wellington as well. So if you are in New Zealand and curious to check them out, you totally can and you totally should!

Oh and they have a brand-spanking new website as well. Yes, they've been very busy boys this year which only goes to show how serious they really are about their craft, another thing we absolutely respect about this band - their indefatigable perseverance. Check out their site right here and get ready to gush, gape and simply go gaga!

On a side note, in an age when anyone and everyone who could strum a few notes on a string call themselves 'musicians' (who can't sing for toffee btw), hire publicists, journalists, bloggers and the like to present an inflated, rather a cosmetically reconstructed image of themselves out into the world, this unassuming band triggering totally spontaneous gush-posts, commendations and rave reviews from random people such as myself alone should tell you something. Although not loved by the mass populace (Well, Fifty Shades of Crap sold out by millions, didn't it? ), the very genuine affection of their close circle of steadily growing loyal followers (theirs is an audience who knows the lyrics of their songs by heart and who would sing along with the band at concerts. This is something you don't see every day) will always be theirs because of this reason alone. 

So don’t miss it, come hell or high water, you must simply clad yourself in fireproof clothing, build yourself a raft and paddle your way across to the British School (find paddling for dummies guide here ) and it would totally be worth it.

And if you see me there (I’m actually bit taller than I am in the picture and won't be carrying the walking stick) wave like crazy.

Till then, here’s something to gorge your ears on. An Idle Mind is the Devil’s Workshop, a mind-marinating, thought-braising, then deep-frying track off The Ascetic Paradox.

Come for the gig! We’ve got more of this! And, cookies J   

Ok so maybe not cookies. But maybe hot dogs and cupcakes and stuff from Delish :) 

A late book fair post

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

        

Decisions, life & randoms

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sunday evening revelations

Sunday evening vicious circle of revelations -

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

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

Wow, rambly much?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Queen for a Day

My mother took out her Kandyan bridal jewelry yesterday. 

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

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

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

I get to be, Queen for a Day.

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

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

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

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

Random ranting

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

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

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

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

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

I officially hate shoe sellers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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