Suresh de Silva's The Eternal Dark : Requiem

Oh where and where have this book not traveled with me! This picture is one I took in Dubai where I was reading it during a quiet moment. Several weeks later I was reading it in Galle, and then in Negombo and then on my commute to work.

Safe to say, this book has seen quite a bit.

Anyhoo,

When Suresh de Silva announced the launch of his book ‘The Eternal Dark :Requiem’ I think we all did a raised eyebrows ‘eh?’

An old manor, a weeping willow, ectoplasm, children who aren’t children, rats and grandfather clocks was all I personally got out of that introduction. Needless to say, this piqued my curiosity.

Six strangers, randomly chosen at a first glance are chosen to stay at an ancient manor for a period of one month. Each one is handsomely rewarded for this adventure. That is how the story begins. And that breathtaking cover! I'd have that on my skin as a tattoo any day. 

Let’s dive in shall we?

The ambiance

For an old school romantic such as myself, old gothic manors with a deep, dark history have a very strong appeal. This age old grand manor with its massive garden and elegant weeping willow up front, stone statues resembling children is the stuff of dreams and its happenings, the stuff of nightmares. Grandfather clocks that suddenly spring to life in tentacles and mouth-less children with doe like eyes with razor sharp teeth, mind-twisting orgies (yes, orgies) and people being possessed to the point of biting off their own fingers – this is heavy stuff people. Be prepared.

The ambiance is sweet, sweet music to this weird little heart of mine which loves and revels in all things dark and unusual. I love places with history and adore places that has their past stamped with stories. And here he is writing of an all-expense paid vacation in a sprawling gothic manor with so much history within it. In essence I believe Suresh is writing about my dream vacation!  

I fell in love with the manor. So much so I would have gladly raised my hand and volunteered to transform myself into the albino creature with a disturbing obsession of feeding the manor with human souls.  

The style

What I love the most about this piece is its visual and cinematic style that draws in your mind’s eye exactly what the author wants you to see. Mind you, this isn’t something that is unique to this book, it is Suresh’s style which is vividly portrayed even in his song lyrics. The extreme lucid imagery keeps you engrossed and enthralled that it’s difficult to get those images from out of your head even if you wanted to at a latter time. The images are a combination of beauty and the grotesque – we have a beautiful manor worthy of architectural adoration and then we have the gross and grisly juxtaposing against it. I also loved the juxtaposition of the resplendent rose and the tiny albino creature – again a beautiful contrast of beauty and beast.

When he describes the storm outside you can almost feel the turmoil in the air, that sinister feeling that something evil is brewing crawling on your skin. When he describes the wet and clammy mouthless children with teeth for their eyes, we feel the terror in our veins. This is something definitely to love in this book.

Suresh’s way of incorporating erratic flashbacks into the manor’s troubled past, the back and forth between the characters’ own dilemmas and the present havoc that is unfolding seems at once overwhelming and a little all over the place at first but then it all ties up so magnificently well in the end. The complex web is woven with subtle hints and omens of what is to come and it is also so well hidden that it is difficult to even discern that they were forebodings of things to come. It is through these flashbacks that we answer the most important question – why the manor became what it is, why each person is who they are, that light bulb moment that suddenly swoops upon you and gathers everything into a comprehensive bundle, not unlike your mother descending upon your chaotic room and gathering the dirty laundry into a basket and setting some method to the madness (Suresh, I am not calling you my mother, mind you). And even the apparent haphazardness of the writing style represents for me, the turmoil inside each and every character and also the storm brewing inside the manor itself. If it was a linear text like everybody expects it to be, it would not have had the desired effect.    

The research

It is evident that copious research has gone into this book. I love how Suresh draws parallels to Sri Lanka’s colonial past, drawing inspirational gems and pearls out of it and utilizing them to his advantage. Here’s a man who makes do with what he’s got. He has this breathtaking manner of yarning facts and fiction to the point that you are completely immersed in the very soul of the storyline. The flashbacks are vivid and descriptive and also serves the purpose of explaining why the manor became what it is – which eventually turns the manor into a character in itself, something I am yet to come across in a work of literature. For me, the flashbacks are an integral part of the work itself which pumps life blood into the storyline giving us readers more material to fuel our imaginations.

The characters

There are 6 main characters here, each of them well drawn out, well detailed and each with their own flaws and inconsistencies, just enough to make them unapologetically human. It is remarkable that Suresh hasn’t painted any of the characters white – each and every one of them have their special traits - which also happen to be their flaws for the most part which essentially decides their fate – which I think is a clever twist. We have Ranjit – the soft, fatherly architect, Keve – the macho crossfit trainer who is also an ad man, Afzel – the shady little tech wiz, Michelle – ex blogger and former beauty queen and Jeremy – Creative writer and adorably chaotic fellow. Out of the 6 Lady Nazira, the elegant psychic has to be my favorite – the silent and perhaps the physically weakest of them all who also ends up being the strongest of them all. I just love the grace with which she operates and the wisdom that she exudes, acting Mother Hen to them all.  

   

The language

Oh boy I love those wacky little swear lines! (kids, cover your eyes). “Fucking duckshit on a kebab”, “high as a satellite”, “what in the Saturn’s butt ring”, “shit on a kakki stick”, “Fucking badu banis” being some of my absolute favorite terms (which I am sure I, myself will be using at desperate times when it calls for elaborately graphic terms for describing my life in general when the proverbial shit hits the fan).

The only thing that irked me however, were the long, winding sentences which made it not exactly a light read. I like my sentences short and sweet, but that is of course, a personal preference.

The ending

For the pure fact that I love happy endings (yes even in horror. I'm a big fat softy yo) and this is not a happy ending or a closure which I would prefer next to a happy ending, I am saddened by the end. He could have maybe even killed all the characters off and given us that closure. But Suresh is not going to give us that closure now, is he? He wants to keep us hanging there just a little longer, have just the tiniest hope for the only characters who are left with whom we’ve developed a bond.

Aiyo. A wicked one the author is.

Bottom line – JUST READ IT. For people who love fantasy, gothic horror such as myself this is an extremely rewarding read that will guarantee you goosebumps and a bloody good time. It is also great in the sense that the Requiem is extremely thought provoking and you will find yourself entwined in philosophical threads that makes your think, question about everything you have taken for granted in your life. Read Eternal Dark: Requiem because you owe it to yourself. And I am the happiest that in a country and community that turns up its nose at horror writing, there is yet another gifted individual writing in that wonderfully twisted style that only a true horror fan would admire.

We need more horror writers in this country – especially like this one.  

Challenges, trials & 2017

The year started with an extremely unpleasant surprise for us. Hubster woke up with a 105.4 fever Sunday a month back and we haven't slept, eaten or practically done anything properly since then.

Turns out it is indeed the Dengue nuisance. 7 days in the hospital out of which 4 days were in the ICU - days sped by in perpetual chaos, confusion, sadness, anxiety, pure terror and heart ache. A few more comparatively less hectic weeks tending to the sick. But strangely enough, deep, deep down inside, I always knew that everything was going to be okay. And everything is.

I actually estimated myself to be dead at this point, but here I am, alive albeit hardly but making it through one day at a time. All that matters is that the Hubster is better. The universe is alright again.

We are however, still in the process of getting our lives back in order. There are bags still packed all over the place from the days when we had to be ready to dash out of the door to the hospital in seconds if needed, there are things missing which keep turning up at the oddest places possible, there are bags of unwashed clothes hiding in corners, there are piles of washed laundry that need folding. Really, there's just so much to do.

However, I just can't seem to get over the fact that somehow or the other, it's the women who take charge and juggle the responsibilities at any given time of crisis. The men folk in the family take a backseat and participate only when they are asked to. The amount of time I've had to run to the supermarket, to the pharmacy, from work to the hospital to home and to the hospital back again, cooking and preparing, several things at any given time is mind-numbing. The amount of time myself or my mother have been running up and down within the hospital itself - we must have run kilometers within any given day. This is an interesting phenomenon - especially in a patriarchal society such as ours where the man is generally considered to be the doer while the woman is regarded as the passive companion. Are the gender roles changing or has it always been like this? It is rather a curious thing.

It's been a trying time and yet, everybody learns something out of everything. So today, the day after the International Women's day, here I am collecting the lessons learnt during the whole ordeal in this post.

1. First name basis at the hospital
When the security guard salutes when he sees you after a few weeks and inquires after the husband, you know you've been around a place way too much. The receptionists wave as you pass by, you cannot get into an elevator without saying 'hi' to at least 5 different people and even before you speak a word, the people at the hospital canteen has your order all packed and ready to go. I am simply not comfortable with this level of familiarity. Especially in a hospital.

2. Marriage is hard. Sickness is harder.
For the loner in me, the hardest part of marriage was adjusting to the life in two. But just as I was getting there (one year now and I am SO immensely proud of myself), just as I was settling in all smug and content into marriage bliss, life throws a curve ball. No fair. Being sick is hard, adjusting to married life is hard, but a spouse being sick definitely takes the cake, especially within the first year of marriage. This needs no explanations, you can take my word for it.

3. Life without waxing IS possible!
I've been walking about with the Sinharaja growing off of my legs and the Amazon on my eyebrows and hey, nobody died! (ok, except maybe for that dude who happened to catch a glimpse of me in shorts that one time inside the hospital room whose I think, soul smoldered from the inside). On an ordinary day I would have died, but at that point I was just like meh! I kept telling myself 'you go rock those hairy legs in butt shorts gurrrrlll, and take over the world in all your hairy splendor and you know what, I didn't give a damn. I was the Queen of one track mind (for a change). Eyebrows so overgrown that you can braid them, don't care! Nurse, please change his IV and take his temperature or I will strangle you with all this excess hair!


4. Keeping appearances
Don't ever let people tell you that your appearance doesn't matter. This is true even to hospitals. Go to a nurses' station in disheveled clothes and no one will take you seriously - even if you said that your patient is dying. Go to one well dressed and everyone will spring into action - tried and tested. So every morning got me masking my tired, puffy eyes with some face powder, dabbing on some lipstick and a loud, bright smile and carrying it right throughout the day. By God, this 24 hour cheery performance when all you want to do is break down and cry for mommy was SO exhausting! But it was necessary. Things a woman wouldn't do for her husband I tell you.

5. You become the Mistress of the Eyeliner Wand and Breaker of Makeup Norms
Want to look wide awake and fully alert even if you are drooping asleep standing and feeling like you're dying from exhaustion half the time? I am the woman you should talk to.
I went into the hospital barefaced and bleary eyed and makeup was the last thing on my mind. What came out of the hospital is not a creature that you would want to cross paths with in the Eyeliner Realm. Just another proof that our survival instincts work in the most weirdest ways.

6. Perfume helps
Trudging up and down to the hospital, spending nights on end on a cramped up hospital couch with hardly no sleep because you have to wake up every hour or so when a nurse or a doctor comes or to give him measured liquid or to measure his output, you stop caring what you look like and eventually end up feeling like a toerag. This won't do if everybody around you looks to you for strength, courage and solace. A whiff of perfume works wonders. In my case, it was Daisy by Marc Jacobs that saved me during those trying days. I love how the violet leaf makes me feel like a delicate, yet wild and elegant forest queen with violets in my hair :)  

7. Even foodies can get tired of the kitchen
If you follow my food blog, you probably know how much of a foodie I am. But right now, I wouldn't really mind not seeing a kitchen for another half a century or so.

For the past couple of weeks, I come home from work, go straight into the kitchen and start cooking. I wake up in the morning and start cooking. When I'm not cooking, I am thinking of what to cook or how to pull it off with minimum effort. The cloths I put on at 5.30 am only comes off at 9pm in the night. Every moment when I am not at work or I am not sleeping, I am in the kitchen, cooking. It's like somebody just picked me up and threw me into an unintelligible chaos. Also, try feeding a recovering dengue patient. I believe opening up your own restaurant is easier.

8. You start wondering how other women do it
Do all women cook for all three meals? Do all women cook rice and curry for that matter, for all 3 meals? How do they manage the cooking, the cleaning and also, work? Am I a bad person for finding it hard to manage? There's all these questions left unanswered still. How do YOU do it?

9. Everybody loves Raymond.
In this case, the hubster. Everybody is concerned, I get it, I really do. But when it comes to family decisions such as choosing a doctor, a hospital and etc, others just need to LAY OFF. He maybe your friend, he maybe your cousin/nephew/son, etc but he married me and I AM his family now. Everybody needs to understand and accept that whatever I do, I do in his best interest and back the HELL down. I have a sick husband at hand to take care of and have NO time for additional drama. Want to transfer him to a "better" hospital under the care of a "better" doctor and move the patient who mustn't be moved? Do so at your own risk. Oh you have no idea how insensitive people can be at times like this.

10. I must be a tea bag
 It's true what they say about women being like teabags. We only realize our true strength when we land ourselves in hot water and land myself in hot water I did this time. I was amazed at what seeped out, what a storm I brewed.

I guess it is this protective nurturing quality in us women. When it comes to taking care of those we love, a supernatural strength takes us over. Things just happen, unconsciously, what needs to be done gets done and at the end of the day you don't even ask yourself why you are so exhausted. I've lost 8 kilos since the incident and am only now slowly gaining what was lost. I've done it all, battling with low blood pressure and the wooziness, the nausea and the migraine that comes with it while catering to every whim and fancy of a recovering dengue patient. And God knows how demanding they can be! My body was frail and ailing and there I was begging for my body to not give up on me yet, managing to drag myself to work, to the kitchen, to the stores, to the hospital over and over again. Thinking back, it simply amazes me. Did I do all that? Like hell I did! Damn!

11. Your parents will never let you down
You can be 50, married with grandchildren and your parents will always be there by your side. Their unselfish, giving, self-sacrifice is amazing and you realize how indebted you are to them, for all that they are, all that they do. I know - for every child, their parents are the most perfect parents in the world, but when I say that my parents are amazing, they REALLY really are.

When everybody else just broke down and cried their eyes out becoming completely helpless, or panicked and went bull-in-the-china-shop mode, upturning everything in sight, I am grateful for my parents who took matters into their own hands and sprang into action. Things moved because of them. They love and accept my husband as their own - for them he is their own child. This is what I aim to be for my children some day.

12. You realize how much you love a person
Sickness makes you realize so many things. It jolts you to the core and makes you ask the most important questions. So you "love" somebody, but what are you prepared to do for them? When a loved one falls sick, everything just falls into place and you know. You just know. How much is that person worth for you? What will you do for them and what won't you? The answers will come easily, they will flood your senses and suddenly you will be filled with light. You have no time to worry, you have no time to break down and cry. You will know what to do and get busy doing what needs to be done. I found myself faced with the same question and found myself ready to sell my soul and a kidney to the devil just to have him alright again. If you believed that your body can only be pushed to a certain point, you prove yourself wrong all over again, pushing yourself beyond superhuman capabilities. Weeks without proper sleep? Exhaustion from running up and down? Cooking, cleaning and looking after the sick while having dangerously low blood pressure? No problem. Physical limitations don't exist in this plain and it seems like extra energy simply courses through your veins eager to protect and care. What are you prepared to sacrifice for the well being of your loved ones? Everything, your body and mind says.

So there we are. The toughest and the most important type of growing is done during trying times. And I believe I've learned and grown. Now all I need is some peace and quiet and a place to crash and sleep for oh, like 10 years. *Snore*
    

And after the break.......

It's a booootiful morning in December and I simply can't get enough of it! I want to soak all of it up, slurp it all up through a straw, like it was the last milkshake on earth.

Even sunlight seems happy :)

Total and complete holiday mode on and it's only the first week of December. Well, who the hell cares! It's beautiful out there and I feel sorry for whoever is cooped up in their offices.

One of the reasons can also be the fact that Peckish Me, my food blog is also in complete holiday overdrive. We've done some awesome videos out of which 2 have been released (you should totally check them out, they are awesome) and there's so much more to come as well!

By the way, Like our Facebook page https://www.facebook.com/peckishme/   :) 

....and check out our eggnog video . I swear to you this is the most delicious thing you will ever taste in a long, long time.

We also shared a video of Sangria, a recipe we perfected while in Spain. You can check it out right here too. 

More than 3 months since the last post, more than 6 months since Le Marriage. So an absolute hurricane of a time, piles and pile of work which simply kept piling up even more, a creative spell, some dream walking, a bout of depression later, here I am!

Marriage update - They say that travel is the ultimate test on any relationship and I agree. We have traveled to 3 countries during the past 3 months, braved sickness, irritation, annoyance, panic and stress and if anything, I can say that we have aced the test. Yes, we do fly at each other’s throats occasionally (Me - “I wanna eat that!!!” Him - “No you can’t eat that, we have to go see the next attraction” - it is at this point that the fangs come out) but that only lasts like 5 minutes or less. We understand that we need each other to survive and admit that despite the occasional annoyances, we love each other to bits and pieces. We are each other’s pillar of strength/the bedrock/the foundation and etc and thus we are…pretty solid I must say.

So 6+ months after marriage I am more patient, more in love and more tolerant. Overall I think I have become a much better human being altogether. We have grown to fit each other's faults and inconsistencies so that we complement each other in our gaps. Both of us nourish each other - and are not hesitant to give up our own comforts for the good of the other. Despite 7 years together prior marriage, we are still growing - we are not perfect but we are becoming perfect for each other. We are inseparable, yet independent and supportive of each other's interests and ventures. He's an amazing human being. And I feel lucky to be by his side. I feel lucky to have found him and marrying him I think, is the best decision I've taken my whole life.

That being said, no relationship comes easy. You need to work at it continuously, assessing, reassessing, adjusting. And most importantly, not give up. It hasn't been exactly a bed of roses for us either (although it sort of is right now for us *blush*) but having put aside our pride and arrogance when we are with each other and learned to appreciate each other more, it's coming along just fine.

Besides it feels great to have someone totally and completely adore you even when you are drooling beside him on your pillow in your sleep in your not-so-sexy pajamas :D

You may say that it’s only been 6 months, but don’t forget, I’ve known the bugger for 7 odd years before tying it up. In marrying him I have married my best friend. And thus I have a best friend for life – one that wouldn’t abandon me, hopefully, when a better offer comes along.

There are soulmates and then there is the love of your life. The love of your life wins your heart and the right to be part of your life, the soulmate, whether you like it or not, will always be around. You cannot help but always look out for them too. It's an ancient calling past all your impulses and indelicacies. It's great if all of it is one :)

In other news, I have also acquired many skills. I can now debone a chicken in less than 3 minutes, pack a suitcase in less than 15 minutes and I can tolerate up to 1 hour of socializing, provided I did not have anything pressing to do. I can also operate a washing machine, fill the bath up for a wash and also cook 3 curries at the same time. I am impressed with my crisis control skills and household management - they do say that like a teabag, a woman doesn't know how strong she is unless she lands herself in hot water herself. I cannot, however, still iron a shirt to save my life. Nor can I scrape a coconut (I can, but I choose not to).

I am slowly beginning to realize that food blogging, which I started as a hobby is indeed a full time job. There is so much to do, there is so much that one CAN do which I am not doing which can enhance the blog and I am desperate to do more. I am forever restless, always wanting to do something that I am sometimes convinced that 24 hours is not enough for all the things that I want to do. Writing and food blogging, on top of a full time job and a family of my own, if Life was a client I don't think it can afford my rates for everything that I do!

I also had my first foray into horror writing and my first horror short story is going to be published in April 2017 by  Farolight Publishing (Cutting Block Books) in the USA. I've been flirting with horror all my life and this new found passion is another thing I need to find time for, because it is something I thoroughly enjoy (and potentially good at cz come on, all those horror stories read as a child and as an adult, all those horror movies watched have to go somewhere right?) 

See? Told you there was a lot going on!  

Peckish Me on Media!

I can't believe I missed this, but Peckish Me, my beloved baby of a food blog has been featured on Sunday Times and Life Online the past few weeks!

The response has been tremendous. Which also goes to show that I am doing something right. When you put your heart, soul and everything you've got into something and when it blossoms out, the satisfaction you get is indeed indescribable.

Find the Sunday Times article at http://www.sundaytimes.lk/160731/plus/words-flow-from-the-flavour-of-food-for-this-foodie-202660.html

Find the Life Online article at http://life.dailymirror.lk/article/33/entertainment/15859/In-Conversation-With-Jayani-Senanayake

I am about to launch into professional restaurant and hotel reviewing so here's to wishing that it goes down well!

Also, do show this all Sri Lankan food blogger some love by spreading the word. I do my best to concoct easily executable recipes and post it up with a special focus on our local stuff which otherwise go unnoticed by the rest of the world. So here's one Sri Lankan foodie trying to take Sri Lanka out there in to the world. So tell your friends, visit my site, try out my recipes. Also, do 'Like' my Facebook page     and do invite your friends to like it too. Need your support to make it through! 

Chocolate cake and other stories

This week. It deserves a large slice of chocolate cake all on its own. Death by Chocolate. No, make that chocolate fudge cake. Now that I think  about it, one slice won't cut it, make it an entire cake. ALL to myself.

It's been an exhausting week, the crazy kind of week when one day it's Monday and suddenly, you are groaning from exhaustion while trudging home, dragging your battered body behind on Friday. My whole body is in physical pain and I'm emotional and I'm cranky as my womb is waging that horrific and terrifying war inside. There is a huge zit on my forehead that appeared out of nowhere this morning and it's not even a cute zit. Standing there all by itself looking a little forlorn yet managing to stand tall and proud all the same, it reminds me a little bit of myself - it's me against the world.

It's been sharp office attire and high heels the whole week and I'm sick and damn tired. I think I'll be in shorts for the rest of the weekend. I think women are amazing for doing all that they do, pulling as much weight as their male counterparts, even more at times, amidst raging storms, the many obstacles and hurdles that only women have to face in this accursed country, and all in high heels and tight dresses too!

Sometimes I want to leave it all and become a housewife. And then I remember I can't iron a shirt to save my life and therefore would be a terrible housewife. In fact I burned my favourite shirt last night trying to iron it and I still haven't gotten over the shock of it. I loved that shirt. It was a good shirt :( 

Well the only good part in this is that I get to spend two days in my maternal home, in my own sweet room and it has been absolutely magical. With nobody to bother me but my nuisance of a dog, good food and parental spoiling, this is introvert heaven. It's strange how things that you once took for granted later become rare luxuries - time with parents, Frankenstein who is more my child than a dog, my room and familiar surroundings. Don't get me wrong, I adore hubby boy and spoil him to bits and believe that I am a greater pain to him when he is around than he is to me but I cherish this alone time by myself. I need this time to recharge, to think, to collect myself. 

So here I am at 12 o' clock at night sipping on a cup of tea and typing my woes away. Life has never been better! Well, right now at least. 

Had to take a cab to work today in the morning and way back. Although two different cab companies, the only two I use now (I never use Sonit Cabs now because their drivers are leering perverts and knows nothing of respect and their customer service is no better. Ladies, it is NOT safe for a woman to ride a Sonit cab, even with several people accompanying you!) sad to say, they drive like maniacs! The morning one, Budget Taxi, drove at high speed over every road bump and crack on the road he saw (sending me, my shoes and my bags flying every single time) and used the break as much as he used the accelerator and I suspect that at times he used both at once! Think the bloody cow meant to scare me, seeing as to I was a girl (and as per most men girls are scaredy-cats. Boo hoo!). I guessed he likes hearing girls scream. I gave him right and proper instead for not driving carefully and threatened to report him - which I didn't because I was too exhausted at the end of it. The evening one - Kangaroo Cabs - was a little better and the fellow was nicer. Although he still drove like a hormone pumped teenager and sang along to Justin Bieber and 'No Promises', the ride was okay and relatively smooth if you don't count the abrupt applying of breaks and risque twists and turns. And no, he can't sing.

Today was a shock. I take cabs very frequently and today was the first time I experienced such careless driving. It was a shame because I've always trusted Kangaroo Cabs to be the most reliable with descent mannered and cultured drivers. And Budget Taxi has not been too bad either.   

Has an adventure park closed down recently? Because I think all the roller coaster and thrill ride operators are driving cabs now.

Life's crazy hectic and I don't know how time flies. But you see, the thing is, if I want something, if I set my heart on something, I always get it or at least go down trying. As my father has put to one of his friends recently who reported it back to me "My girl always gets what she wants. She's stubborn, she's strong headed but she doesn't wait around for things to be handed to her" which made me proud and happy that my father, my role model for life, sees me that way. He is no different, I think I got it from him. So much to do so little time but hey, getting there to accomplishing everything I've ever wanted in life. In terms of food blog we are golden. But more to be done, lots more to be accomplished. Ain't stopping here. 

I just wished someone paid me to just travel and eat. That's it. That would be my job and I'd be the happiest person on earth. What a life that would be! 

And I to bed! 1.29 AM and it's already Saturday. 

Metal by the Sea

Thinking back on all the events that I have attended, I think I simply must say this - one has not truly lived if one has not experienced metal by the sea.

No I don’t mean the type that corrodes with the sea breeze. I mean metal music – the rawness, the unadulterated pureness of emotion that it brings forth. It is beautiful how these two savage forces come together in perfect harmony – sea and metal, such an inebriating combination, a match made in heaven as it were. 

Soft,warm sand at our feet, wind in our hair and sweet, bleeding metal at our ears – a strange piece of paradise that baffled and blew our minds. 2nd of July was truly special. Which is why after almost a month, the memory is still crispy fresh in our minds.

The night started off in a rather amusing way. Just as we turned into the car park at Shore by O, we were warned, albeit in an apologetic tone, “it’s a band that’s playing tonight. I hope that is okay” (Sir, ada band ekak gahanne. Kamak naane) by the friendly guy who was directing the traffic there. We smiled and assured him that it’s more than okay, and that we were indeed there “to see the band play”.

It was a lovely evening. The sun had already set and we lingered a bit on the beach before wandering in. The sea-perfumed breeze whipped at our clothes and gave us a sense of flying which was rather euphoric. There was a sense of festivity in the air - perhaps it was all the fairy lights and the semi-charmed atmosphere that dusk creates. It was like being at a beach party but instead of the colourful bikinis and bare chested fellows, we were surrounded by a sea of black tshirts, interesting hair and pure, raw energy.

The stage was set with its back to the sea as a means of protection against the salt drenched winds. While the setting would have been absolutely breathtaking at sunset, we felt that this setting did not allow maximum exposure to the crowd and we were left wondering from where we could watch the performances. Especially considering that it was a Stigmata gig, (crazy head banging, communal moshing anyone?) imagine what a glorious pit it would have created had the stage faced sideways to the sand stretch of land! The sandy beach, the sea breeze making all that fabulous hair whip the unrelenting winds asunder (for hair and beard watching are two of the main reasons we like attending gigs), freedom to move frenzied with that slight intoxication only ocean breeze can provide. However, once we got upstairs our concerns were quelled. Although a gig is never fully enjoyed while sitting down, the opportunity was too good to let go. We were able to get balcony seats for the night – right above the stage, the seats offered uninhibited panoramic views (ahem) and had the gig started at sunset rather than at that darkened hour, we could imagine what a view it would have been.

The Gig

The night started with Abyss, a band that we have not seen perform before and therefore not very familiar with. These kids had a faint whiff of Lamb of God about them with rather impressive ax and skins skills and powerful vocals, although unfortunately we failed to make out any of the lyrics to the songs. Their performance was energetic and it was surprising that there was no moshpit action but I eventually attributed it to the narrow (and rather precarious looking) space in front of the stage which was not very conducive for moshing. A mix of originals and covers peppered their set but my favorite was when the Stigmata Skinsman Taraka, joined them onstage for a cover of Lamb of God’s Black Label. 

Next up was Salvage and they had been advertised as performing an acoustic set that night, what with their skinsman being unavailable for the night. Having witnessed their performances many time before, I must say, their acoustic performance blew me away. Magic was definitely in the air as they lulled the crowd with a mix of originals and covers, each beautifully complemented by the brilliant lighting of the stage (who did the lighting btw? It was pretty amazing) and the soothing sea breeze caressing us into oblivion. The acoustics brought out the vocalist’s powerful tones into the spotlight which are otherwise drowned out by the drums – and we liked it. I think they should perform acoustic more often.

Check out the awesome lights-play

Next up was the mighty Stigmata who took to the stage. And we all know how this goes down.

The performance as always started with a bang. The band unfurled, coiled, glided and stomped its way through their new and old tracks, the all-time favorites and the sing-along—anthems (as the band puts it) brutally, majestically. There wasn’t a person who wasn’t mumbling (or screeching) along to the lyrics of the songs. 

Now anyone who has ever been to a Stigmata gig rarely stops at just one concert. Their stage presence, the performances, the intensity of all that raw talent – the combination of it all is one that one rarely sees, not only in Sri Lanka, but also in the world. Their music speaks for itself – it speaks to your inner being, it lulls you and caresses you, sometimes it makes you dance, sometimes it makes you launch yourself into the philosophical sphere and retreat within yourself. With powerful lyrics and mind twisting music performed by a bunch of insanely (and somewhat insane) talented guys, it is no wonder that Stigmata concerts usually see quite a lot of people belting out the lyrics to their enchanting pieces along with the band. 

Their set comprised of tunes new and old off their latest album and their albums past. ‘Andura’, - that sacred tune that every little boy who had ever wanted to become a guitarist/rocker/ladies’ man wanted to master (“I noticed you like metal. You know Stigmata? I can play “Andura”*sleazy eyebrow wiggle*) has always been a crowd pleaser which sent the whole lot into a roaring frenzy while ‘Voices’, one of their evergreen classics got everybody howling at the top of their lungs (myself and hubby dearest included) in an attempt to sing along. Another remarkable fact that my husband (a bigger Stigmata fan than I will ever be), pointed out was that they played ‘Purer’ for the first time after a long time and despite the fact that Lakmal’s bass solo was not properly heard due to technical difficulties, it was magnificent. It was good to hear an old favourite after such a long time. “DeadRose” was goose bump -inducingly amazing as always and we launched into full-fledged dance mode to the trippy tunes of Jazz theory, swaying our hips to the Flamenco and head banging to the rest. The mind boggling tunes of ‘An Idle mind” as well as the jive-inducing ‘Our beautiful decay’ from their latest album were welcome additions. But what really stole the show was that amazing compilation of 90’s cartoon tunes metalized for our taste buds. Andrew has performed a similar version at the video launch of “On the wings of the Storm” but this was more refined and more ….well, simply put, absolutely kickass. The band posted up a teaser of the piece and had our panties in all kinds of twists (the boyos included. Well, especially the boyos) and it wouldn't be wrong to say that this was the moment that we've been waiting for since the beginning of the night. AND it was phenomenal. Not sure how the kiddos who hadn’t known the shows like we did enjoyed it, but we the 90’s kids totally dig it, having grown up with the likes of Thunder Cats, Silver Hawks and the X-Men (why do they call it X-MEN? There are WOMEN there too you know) as our heroes. We had to swat away a few phones and cameras that popped up covering our faces just to get a glimpse of the performance ourselves which explains that our enthusiasm was mutual.

We recorded the piece but had to give up on putting it up here when the upload failed multiple times. Technology has us all by the balls, so sad, sad day :( 

The food

This part I usually publish in my food blog but I decided to do it here anyway.

Having had a look at the menu, I could see that they had a large variety of interesting stuff which I was eager to try. But having set my heart on the baked crab dish that sounded absolutely yummy, I was rather disappointed to learn that the menu was not available that night (another thing that the friendly guy at the car park warned us about) and only the displayed items in the buffet were made available. But that disappointment was short-lived, I was about to discover.

There were the usual culprits of a seaside pub setting - the fried rice, the French fries, the hot butter…….OMG!! Ok so bottom line, I ended up ordering the hot butter cuttlefish, the hot butter mushroom AND the oh-so-glorious pork in what I suspected, was a bistake. And the food, oh my, exceeded my expectations by leaps and bounds.

Call me a prude but I do not have faith in ANYTHING that is served in disposable things. Handed out in disposable plates, I will be honest and state that I did not have high expectations of the food. But the first bite of that hot butter cuttlefish changed my perception forever. It was not overly spicy or laden with oil like most hot butter cuttlefish dishes you find out there and rather delicately and expertly spiced. It could have easily found its place on the menu of a fine dining resto (if only they offered hot butter cuttlefish at these places). The batter was crisp and fresh with a delicious crunch with the cuttlefish tender and buttery inside – a difficult feat to achieve having made hot butter cuttlefish myself on numerous occasions. The pork was juicy and melt-in-the-mouth tender with a delicate balance between the sweet and the spicy which was rather delightful. And anyone who has ever cooked pork know how easy it is to overcook the meat and have it resembling tough old boots. 

I did not care much for the hot butter mushroom though. While the textures were on point, the flavours were a little bland which was a pity was because just a pinch more salt and a few more chili flakes would have made it just perfect.

So the food – wonderfully done and was a worthy effort. Nibbling on a piece of pork, munching on the hot butter cuttlefish, sipping on a Kahlua cocktail and listening to some of the best bands in Sri Lanka play their hearts out? That was truly priceless.

It was a night to remember in so many ways.   

   

I don’t remember the last time we danced at a metal gig but here is one in which we did. I don’t think we were drunk (I don’t think one cocktail can send us spinning off like that) but ocean breeze and good music are known to have intoxicating effects on us human beings. Giddy and light headed, we were laughing all the way home and it was with some effort that hubby dearest dragged me away from going dancing on the beach. T’was a good, good night. T'was an awesome night J 

 Check out some of the performances here

On time and being "busy"

As a child, I had wanted to be busy. I used to look at my parents and others who I used to regard as adults and marvel at how wonderful their lives may be, how important they must feel, to be so busy all the time.

As a university student, I smirked whenever someone said they were busy. I preferred long bus rides to a quick cab ride or being driven around by someone. I liked long walks and often walked the 5-6 KMs that was there from my university to my home refusing to take a bus or a tuk. I did not understand why others did not do the same. I was dismayed that people were always in a rush to get somewhere, I hated how they used to honk at traffic lights instead of patiently waiting, enjoying their time. I reveled in visiting friends and spending time with them and could not understand why people older than us did not revel in it anymore. I hated how no one took the time to stop and appreciate the small things. I did want to rush anywhere.

But now I do. In fact, I am always rushing, everywhere at any given time. 

As an adult (ok well at least age wise) I now understand why people are always rushing, why people are always in a hurry to get somewhere, why people grow restless waiting. I understand why people are impatient and they do not enjoy the privilege of meeting up with friends, stopping and appreciating the little things in life and basically, taking it slow. Because I myself am in a constant rush now. 

I am not sure when it happened, but suddenly you are caught up in this whirlpool of events and happenings that leave you exhausted all the time. Earlier you would rather go out dancing, catch up with friends or travel, do something adventurous but now, getting holed up in your room with a nice cup of tea with no one for company and a few hours to yourself is the perfect adventure that you’ve been dreaming of.longing for.

What happened? I started working. I started rising. I started getting ambitious. I now have everything I have ever dreamt of career-wise with a very comfortable material life. But I have lost something very valuable to myself along the way. Time.

I remember the time I worked 4 jobs because I was not satisfied and still enjoyed the painfully slow bus rides home. I remember the times when coming home from work was not a certainty and after going home from office at 11 pm, opened up my laptop at 12 to continue working till the wee hours of the morning only to get up and go to work again. I worked through weekends, I worked through nights. I worked hard and I worked with honesty. I created a life for myself and depended on no one to provide for me. And of that I am proud. 

   

Because of that, life is not as hectic as it used to be anymore. I am reaping the fruits of all that hard work all those years back and if I wanted, I could retire now and still lead a comfortable life. But I do not want to stop. This is the real tragedy. 

I used to wonder at people getting pedicures done at salons, paying good money. Why could they not get it done at home – scrub the feet, file those nails, push back the cuticles, get rid of the dead skin at the soles of feet, apply nail polish – base coat first, color second and top coat last, a small interval between each of these steps. Now I find myself getting a pedicure every once in a while. I get pedicures just to feel good. It feels good to rest my feet for a while – something that I hardly get time for anymore.

Strange how things have changed, opinions and all.

The thesis monster has been slain. It is strange though, I had thought that it would have physically felt like lifting a weight off my head and I would feel like dancing through the meadows, arms outstretched with an absolute sense of freedom but nothing of the sort has been felt. It just feels…..normal.

Although the MBA is finally over, there are other things that take up my time. My food blog for example. It’s taken off at a rate and I am ever so proud of it. Slowing down now would be fatal.

All the trips that me and the husband creature promised one another we would take, all the things that we promised ourselves that we will do, still awaits. Honestly speaking, all I want to do right now is stay home and sleep! And cuddle. And eat and drink. And just lie around doing basically nothing in particular. 

Life. It was only yesterday that was Sunday and here I am already wishing for the weekend. But what we don't realize is that as we eagerly wait for the weekend, we are also wishing for less time with our loved ones, less time on planet earth, less time to be young, the end of an era, for death itself.

We humans sometimes don't realize what we wish for - and then get it anyway in the end. 

On time and being "busy"

As a child, I had wanted to be busy. I used to look at my parents and others who I used to regard as adults and marvel at how wonderful their lives may be, how important they must feel, to be so busy all the time.

As a university student, I smirked whenever someone said they were busy. I preferred long bus rides to a quick cab ride or being driven around by someone. I liked long walks and often walked the 5-6 KMs that was there from my university to my home refusing to take a bus or a tuk. I did not understand why others did not do the same. I was dismayed that people were always in a rush to get somewhere, I hated how they used to honk at traffic lights instead of patiently waiting, enjoying their time. I reveled in visiting friends and spending time with them and could not understand why people older than us did not revel in it anymore. I hated how no one took the time to stop and appreciate the small things. I did want to rush anywhere.

But now I do. In fact, I am always rushing, everywhere at any given time. 

As an adult (ok well at least age wise) I now understand why people are always rushing, why people are always in a hurry to get somewhere, why people grow restless waiting. I understand why people are impatient and they do not enjoy the privilege of meeting up with friends, stopping and appreciating the little things in life and basically, taking it slow. Because I myself am in a constant rush now. 

I am not sure when it happened, but suddenly you are caught up in this whirlpool of events and happenings that leave you exhausted all the time. Earlier you would rather go out dancing, catch up with friends or travel, do something adventurous but now, getting holed up in your room with a nice cup of tea with no one for company and a few hours to yourself is the perfect adventure that you’ve been dreaming of.longing for.

What happened? I started working. I started rising. I started getting ambitious. I now have everything I have ever dreamt of career-wise with a very comfortable material life. But I have lost something very valuable to myself along the way. Time.

I remember the time I worked 4 jobs because I was not satisfied and still enjoyed the painfully slow bus rides home. I remember the times when coming home from work was not a certainty and after going home from office at 11 pm, opened up my laptop at 12 to continue working till the wee hours of the morning only to get up and go to work again. I worked through weekends, I worked through nights. I worked hard and I worked with honesty. I created a life for myself and depended on no one to provide for me. And of that I am proud. 

   

Because of that, life is not as hectic as it used to be anymore. I am reaping the fruits of all that hard work all those years back and if I wanted, I could retire now and still lead a comfortable life. But I do not want to stop. The needs have magnified and I need to work to achieve those needs.

I used to wonder at people getting pedicures done at salons, paying good money. Why could they not get it done at home – scrub the feet, file those nails, push back the cuticles, get rid of the dead skin at the soles of feet, apply nail polish – base coat first, color second and top coat last, a small interval between each of these steps. Now I find myself getting a pedicure every once in a while. Otherwise I just apply a coat of colour on top of chipped nails and hope that it isn’t noticeable.

And I get pedicures just to feel good. It feels good to rest my feet for a while – something that I hardly get time for anymore.

Strange how things have changed, opinions and all.

The thesis monster has been slain. It is strange though, I had thought that it would have physically felt like lifting a weight off my head and I would feel like dancing through the meadows with an absolute sense of freedom but nothing of the sort has been felt. It just feels…..normal.

Although the MBA is finally over, there are other things that take up my time. My food blog for example. It’s taken off at a rate and I am ever so proud of it. Slowing down now would be fatal.

All the trips that me and the husband creature promised one another we would take, all the things that we promised ourselves that we will do, still awaits. Honestly speaking, all I want to do right now is stay home and sleep!

Life. It was only yesterday that was Sunday and here I am already wishing for the weekend. But what we don't realize is that as we eagerly wait for the weekend, we are also wishing for less time with our loved ones, less time on planet earth, less time to be young, the end of an era, for death itself.

We humans sometimes don't realize what we wish for - and then get it anyway in the end. 

Writing theses & making enemies

CHOCOLATE!! I NEED CHO CO LATE!!! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!

Such is my eternal mood these days.

I lay brooding in my thesis induced state in a nest of chocolate wrappers, surrounded by crumbs of Twix, KitKat and Ritzbury Chocolate fingers (I kid you not, that stuff is GOOD!), starring spaced out at a computer screen, so much so that the screen is imprinted on my cornea. I feel slightly hungover although not a drop of alcohol has passed my lips since, oh the wedding. Note to self - after this grand nuisance of a thesis is done, I swear I will open a bottle of 1989 Cabernet Sauvignon all by myself (well maybe with a little help from the hubby boy. Remember that time when I popped a bottle of Champagne and the cork ended up landing on my head? Ya. So no) and finish it all by myself! (Maybe hubby boy can have a sip since he helped open the bottle and all).

When all this is over I am also taking a looooong, shamefully indulgent spa treatment. I will combine two spa treatments if I have to because well, my aching body, limbs and mind demands it! And then I'm going to go shopping. And I mean SHOPPING. Like real hardcore, drop-dead, can't carry anymore, there's literally a hole in my wallet kind of shopping. And it's going to be totally awesome.

Which has also got me thinking, what do I really do with all this time once this wretched thing is over! Hmmm...now that's a thought.

On other news, I think I have an enemy! This is exciting news in my otherwise greatly drab life!

I don't know when or where I started noticing it. There I was being my usual spaced-out self getting into the staff transport after a long and tiring day at work and flopping down on my favourite seat minding my own business/reading/listening to music and etc and suddenly I notice this little waif of a woman, looking more like a fruit fly than a woman (I swear I could almost see the antennas on her head) with large spectacles covering almost her entire face, actively giving me these God-Awful withering looks that would have wilted a coconut tree as she passed my seat every day. I noticed this once or twice and while fleetingly wondered what that was all about, forgot all about it afterwards. That was until she pushed me. And butted me with her oversized handbag. And stamped my feet. And purposefully sat next to me and while still giving me the evil eye, started pushing me to the corner complaining how she doesn't have enough space.

And this is not accidental pushing or shoving mind you. It would have been all negligible and I would have quickly dismissed it with an indifferent wave of hand if it hadn't been for the "I will eat your first born and pick my teeth with its bones" kind of look on her bug face every time each of these things happened *shudders*  

Now this is the staff transport route that I take since I partially moved to Yakkla (this is my cue to break into howls of despair and snotty nosed sobs) after marriage while when I am in Kiribathgoda, I have this awesome staff transport with awesome people who are full of smiles and kind and tender words. The Yakkala transport has always been troublesome for me. It's literally like the transport from hell. Being the new girl isn't easy there with everybody bulling me but I braved them all and just when I thought that I've seen the last of my troubles, along comes bug lady (honestly I can't seem to get over how bug-like she really is) and hovers about like that annoying fly (making that annoying wheeeeeeeeeee sound) that you just can't seem to get rid of.

And then I realized what her problem might be. Having sat at my seat once or twice while I was in Kiribathgoda, she seems to have developed a liking for where I usually sit. I like that seat, it's where I always sit. I like it because it gives me the secluded space that I need at the end of a tiring day surrounded by people and I like it because, well, I simply like it. And this fawn of Satan (it's quite easy to picture her doing the devil dance naked around a blazing fire and sacrificing virgins and drinking their blood), has developed a liking for it too. And she absolutely loathes me for having claimed it back, takes every chance she can to be nasty. I don't get it. I really don't get it.

So these days I find myself being usurped of my seat. Even when I come right at 4.30 on the dot (I managed several days just to test my theory), there she is, smugly seated, watching me from the corner of her eye, watching to see what I would do. I, of course, do not betray my feelings and not willing to admit defeat and I cooly go claim another seat without so much of a glance in that direction, calmly take out my book/music and continue doing what I do, all the time of course, muttering curses under my breath. Still I could feel her eyes boring right into the back of my head. The little Rumpelstiltskin clearly has a problem.

One often does wonder how one is snugly seated in the staff transport sharp at 4.30 when one only gets off duty at 4.30. I of course having actual work to do, cannot even comprehend how one is seated in the staff transport at 4.30 on the dot. Either she does not have any work to do, she does not work but loafs around till 4.30 or she has brilliant teleportation powers. I honestly doubt that it is the latter. Needless to say, it is because of people like this that companies go bankrupt and empires fall.

And when I make an enemy, I find out everything about them. And I mean EVERYTHING. And people who know me know that I am frighteningly good at it too.

But this case is an exception.

Despite the best of my attempts, I only found out the following information - she wears a ring on her left ring finger, which indicates that she may or may not be married, has an appearance of about 48 - 50 years old, which also may or may not be the case, a constipated look on her face and that she has a terrible dress sense. She works for the same organization that I do and may or may not live in Gampaha. That's it. Not even a name or a department. And this is despite my best efforts.

Which further goes to show that she may not be human.

This malicious little imp always finds a way to be close to me, even when I'm not sitting in her favourite seat(which is, technically speaking MINE!). Yesterday I found her breathing down my neck (which is quite hard to do since I am a good head or so taller than her) and this morning, without me even being aware of her presence, pushes me. I of course did not take this assault lying down. I pushed back. And answered the glowering and the swearing that followed with a sweet smile and a sorry.

That felt good.

All jokes aside, the situation is seriously sinister. If I am stabbed (cue 'Psycho' music) or mysteriously disappears, let this blog post be witness that it is the bug lady who probably has me skinned alive and is beaming from ear to ear, having covered herself with a blanket made off my skin.

*Shudders*. My fascination with the macabre even scares me sometimes.

On other matters, the prospect of becoming a stay-at-home person (I have an inherent abhorrence to the the term "housewife". It sounds like a synonym for domestic slave. Or slave wife.) is seeming more and more attractive in my eyes. Getting up early morning is taking away the good part of my youth I feel and for the best part of the day I am elsewhere getting harassed by Satan's imps and waging other people's wars. I am very happy about my current workplace. Nonetheless, I love my home (MY home. Not where I currently am) even more. But as people would say, I was born awesome but not rich, so getting up in the morning and going to work has to be worked in to the schedule somehow for now.

Unless I found a way to make a living from home. Hmm.....

And while I thus so shamelessly indulge in procrastination in the multifaceted forms of, inspirational posts, cat videos (I don't even like cats), celebrity gossip (I don't know who half these people are), serial killers (Yes, those are fascinating) and oh, pretty much anything that distracts me (it's amazing how everything starts seeming oh-so-interesting when you have something else to do, isn't it?), it bothers my mind that there sits, like a giant venomous, ugly frog, a monolithic (and torturous) thesis demanding my attention, blowing raspberries at me, making my very existence a source of woe and worry.  And then there's my food blog that I have sold my soul to. There also awaits a very exciting book that I've read 3/4 (Isabel Allende is awesome) and it's funny how I find myself sneaking off with it all the time to the washroom/hidden away in my room and etc. I don't know who I am hiding from! It's hilarious really. And a little sad :(

Anyhoo, it will all be over soon, I promise. (gives myself a hug).

I shall now go back to hatching a plan on getting back at that evil little staff transport Satan worshiper. Life just got a wee bit interesting with this malicious little imp of mine *rubs hands together as evil laughter ensues*


  

Theses and life in general these days

So what do you do when you have a thesis to write and less than a month to submit it?

You eat, drink, you finish the book you've been reading, write a verse or two, knead some bread (and bake it), watch a movie and then write a longass blog post about it.

Really I am pathetic.

So as you may be aware (if not check out my pre wedding posts on the blog which I am not too keen on sharing here), the Lady got married recently. As she is going about settling into this conjugal bliss/confusion/blissful confusion (?), it's time for us, both of us, to kill ourselves over yet another endeavor again.

And WHAT is this endeavor pray? Why, it is the final project of our MBA program - the Grand Thesis!

Comprising of a grand 15,000 odd words and a million other mundane things to do, to complete this monstrous task we were given, realistically, a little over one measly month. Technically the time period should be 3 months but well, by the time the method of the project had been conveyed to us, a whole two months are gone. Poof! Just like that!

Well technically, we could have started a month or so back but you know how things are in Procrastination Land. With hubby boy setting me to shame with procrastination skills, I am a little way ahead of him really in this whole arduous process.

And why am I writing this post now? Because PROCRASTINATION.

But I have my reasons you see. Just days after the wedding ceremony, we had to submit an assignment, over which we slaved over during what should have technically been our honeymoon. And no sooner do we hand THIS over, we are dragged away on yet another exciting adventure - talk about great timing for marriage.

And we are planning on a proper honeymoon as soon as all this hullabaloo is over. Heck, we are planning on honeymooning every other week!

Anyways,

Life is a little bit complicated now, what with shifting of residences, learning the life in two instead of one (two is better than one they say which I sometimes, only sometimes, begin to doubt), adjusting, adjusting and then adjusting some more. There's just too much of adjusting going on.

Am I such a horrible person that I sometimes keep pining for the days pre-marriage?

Marriage is a tremendous thing. I say tremendous because I can't find any other suitable word for it. There's the entire and complete change of lifestyle that is more than a little hard to swallow (btw, I think it is brutal that it is the girl who has to give up her name, the home where she grew up in, her family, move into an entirely strange place and set up life anew burdened with a ton of responsibilities that she had never known.) No matter what anybody says, it is the woman who makes the biggest sacrifices in a marriage. Let no one else tell you otherwise.

The other thing is the list of expectations that come with being married. Here in Sri Lanka you don't just marry the man, you marry his entire family, his grand uncle's first cousin, his daughter and her pet dog. Your man you can handle (sometimes), even the man's parents (here I have no complaints because I am blessed with the sweetest in-laws ever and I find myself adoring them even more than the hubby person :P ), but the extended family and friends - that I was not prepared for. You are expected to visit the relations' houses, the numerous alms givings, funerals, birthdays, Avrudu visits, bana, etc and being the new kid on the block, you are not supposed to miss a single one! And to just sit there smiling all prim and proper making conversation although you have absolutely nothing in common- let's just say that it's only slightly tolerable than having my fingernails pulled out.

Let's visit all our relatives just once, he said 

What you can't really shake off is this great loss of independence. You going anywhere alone is suddenly frowned upon, you are always expected to be seen in twos (you went to your own home by yourself?? Where's your husband/wife? You came by yourself??Oh horror!). There's also this sense of lost identity as you are identified as not you, Jayani C. Senanayake, woman, individual, human being in her own right but as somebody's wife/somebody's new daughter-in-law, etc. And it all feels very strange.

It's also strange, but you really can't help but feel that you are only half of what you really are, half of what you should be. It's sometimes like you are on this vacation that you don't particularly enjoy (or not enjoy) and your actual life is elsewhere, waiting for you. It's otherworldly sometimes, like being in an alien ship, being abducted. Or some equally unnerving thing.

Oh before I forgot, Melisandre gave life to Jon Snow! Useless bugger he is. He's been refusing every damn exciting thing that he has been suggested so far except to go to the North to fight Ramsey. Finally. I was beginning to wonder what a waste of resources to bring him back to life.

Getting back to the topic,

Leave alone mental trauma, the utter exhaustion (I'm used to working 20 hours a day and I'm more exhausted by all THIS than 20 hours of nonstop work) and etc, but I think the biggest challenge for me is that being a loner, sharing my space and maintaining my boundaries. For example, I like to sleep in late and wake up to a cool, dark room on my own terms whereas the hubby boy throws open the windows the moment he wakes (and he wakes way earlier than me), flooding the room with sunlight. This annoys me. Like REALLY annoys me.    

On one hand you thank your lucky stars to have found someone as amazing as him. On the other, you end up wondering WHY you decided to get married in the first place - I tell you, it's a constant dilemma.

Don't get me wrong, I married my best friend and partner in crime of so many years and we love each other to bits and pieces. But we are not perfect. We've gone through hell and back holding hands, we bicker and fight but at the end of the day we always end up in each other's arms. Having been together for 7 odd years, you naturally assume that you know everything there is to know about each other and take comfort in the fact that you two are so much alike. But once you start living with each other and start building a life together only you realize how different you really are, how contradictory your needs and priorities are. (actually I think the differences start playing out when you start planning your wedding together).

So how do you reconcile those differences?

You don't. You just need to remind yourself that you are two completely different human beings from two completely different backgrounds and always remind yourself how much you love and respect one another. As time goes on and as you distance yourself from the "Me" concept and start viewing the world through the "We" lens, you learn to be kind. You learn to be patient. You always remind yourself that the other person is trying too. Ultimately, things get easier. However, the practicalities remain. You do change. Tremendously. Monolithically. Stupendously.

And you learn to love more, to give more. And to expect nothing in return. You learn to look after yourself and in the process, you grow stronger.It's a good feeling, a satisfying feeling.

Alone, in a stranger's house, learning to fend for yourself, away from people who surrounded you with nothing but love all your life, you learn what being a woman is all about.

In certain ways you are happy - happy to come home into loving arms and adoring eyes, happy to wake up to tight hugs (when you are not waking up to shrill alarms that is). In certain ways, life has become strange, stranger than fiction and it is too far out of your comfort zone to be really happy with.

Oh and also RR Martin has released the first chapter of Winds of Winter. The dirty bastard. There's no end to him taunting us. It pisses me off.

Anyways,

I thought I should make a small list of things that changed after marriage, you know, just to keep score. I'd like to check back a month from now and keep monitoring. It should be interesting. So here goes.

• Goodbye lovely long nails. Hello scraggly bits that faintly resemble human nails.
• I can skin and debone a chicken under 5 minutes.
• I watch the occasional non-horror/non-psycho thriller movie and do not complain about it. (Wait, what?!?)
• I get up much earlier than usual (those who know me would know that in my world, getting up at all, let alone getting up early, equals death)
• I don't really care what I look like. Hair looking like something just exploded in there and you are in butt shorts, all dusty and hot, having been cleaning the ceiling fans but have to run to town to get 5 eggs? No problem.
• I am no longer choosy about what I eat. Sprats, spinach, potatoes, fish - I eat it all, not even a whimper. 
• I put up with damp bathrooms full of muddy footsteps. Just a month back, I would have called the fire brigade to hose the place down but now, I just go meh. 
• I go without my morning cup of tea (HUH? :O). After getting up at 5 and preparing office lunches, I literally have no time for tea. Days when I just could NOT wake up without my tea seem a lifetime away. 
• I can cut and deseed a watermelon, conjure up business plans in my head, button my shirt and screw on my earrings at the same time. Multitasking - Nailed it! 

More of this - laters.

So is marriage really for me? I would love to shout out a big, loud, cheerful yes, but a bit of the same old usual reluctant me remains inside looking slightly doubtful. The truth is I don't know, not just yet. It sure isn't easy and it isn't always a bed of roses. But  we do get by. Baby steps. One day at a time. 

So these days I drift through life with the gait of a dreamwalker (which is literally the case because I am up till the wee hours of the morning working on my thesis and in the morning I have to go to work with less than 3 hours of sleep where I sleepwalk through the day all over again. I have no leave. I got married.). The light at the end of the tunnel seems so very far off and frankly, I'm not even sure if there is at least a flashlight at the end of it. 

I long for the day that we can wake up properly and start living once again. This thesis is draining the life out of all of us. But the good thing is, we've got each other's back :)

       

Stranger in a Sari

When Dinesh Ravindra Gunaratne (otherwise known as DRG), longtime friend, movie maker and fellow arts-enthusiast invited us for “Stranger in a Sari”, I literally rubbed my hands together and exclaimed “finally!”

Having known this individual for quite a while as an incredibly gifted artistic soul with this sense of something (we have always interpreted as) just bursting to come out, in my head he had always been this ticking time bomb, ripe for bursting forth with something wonderful. But we knew him mostly as a movie maker with a flare for the unusual and his never-seen-a-box-in-his-life way of thinking. So when “Stranger in a Sari” finally came out, Dinesh had more than a few surprises in store for us. 

The venue was laid out tastefully with elegance and sophistry, one that you would only expect from someone with an eye (kudos to the awesome deco person Gihan Karunanayake). The program was short and sweet with a few readings from some intriguing pieces including the fascinating short story “Stranger in a Sari” which held the audience captive within the short time it unrolled. The crowd present was comprised of Dinesh’s closest circle and the love was indeed felt as Dinesh took the microphone in hand to thank the myriad people who were involved. Judging by the response of the crowd, it was quite plain to see that the writer and artist is a much loved individual cherished by many.

Let me rewind just a little bit.

So there I was having arrived early, flipping through the beautiful booklet that was handed to me (classy and intriguing cover, 4 elegant bookmarks n all) waiting for my other half (who was characteristically late). It didn’t take long for this unassuming little thing to draw me right in. It was a strange feeling, sitting there in the midst of the crowd yet hardly even aware of them, lost within the pages of the book. The crowd did not exist. The Cappuccino in front of me did not exist. Simply said, the words on those pages wrenched my heart right out of my rib cage, squeezed it open and left it bleeding, exposed and vulnerable. All my life’s heartbreaks came tumbling back to me. There was pain, yes, unbearable, all consuming, pain, but there was also hope. And it was amazing how he has taken that pain inside him, twisted and twirled it into a masterful craft, sprinkled it with a bit of hope and unleashed it full blast upon us unsuspecting beings. It was cruel, beautiful poetry, brought forth by a cruel beautiful world.

Weirdly enough, this hard-hitting phenomenon left me nostalgic for all the heartbreaks of the past. Hardly something that one would be nostalgic about. Most importantly, it made me “feel”.

“I woke up

With pain

Gushing through my veins

Losing you

Made me fear life”

He says. And on the next page he is

“kissing the mirror

To feel the wetness of

Your lips”

Pungent. Vivid. Resonating. And the reader goes, ‘I know that deep stabbing pain in the morning just as you wake up. I know exactly how you feel!’.

My personal favourite has to be the below.

“It’s hard when

Memories remain in

Your old phone’s

Memory card

She took the exact picture

The same pose

With her new husband…..”

Very real, very true to life. This could be anyone, phones bearing too many memories, exes taking the same kind of pictures in the same poses as they once posed with you with their new found lovers – we’ve all faced that pang of deep, deep hurt, that first moment of discovery when you stumble upon your pictures with them on Facebook just when you thought you are over them……

“Health tip

Don’t try to own

A travelling heart

With the hope of

Hiding it

Inside your soul

From the rest of the world”

How very, very true.

What is remarkable about this is that even though it seems like the protagonist has suffered a deep loss and has been in a dark lonely place, there is no bitterness, no anger nor hatred detected in any of these pieces. There is a childlike innocence in the protagonist, an eternal optimism that shines through his words. The woman, the creature that caused him pain is presented as a sublime, sensual, mysterious creature by whom the protagonist continues to be very much fascinated. There is respect and awe of the female creature still and a sense of adoration. This amazes me - in a world where females are lashed at, insulted and objectified every second of the day, this is refreshingly new indeed.      

Dinesh refers to his collection as “sentimental rants”. And with that he shows us how easy it is to enjoy and to feel humanity with all its faults, its sensuality, emotions, sentiments and feelings without the pompous grandeur or the unnecessary embellishments. The empathy in his work is astounding. It is honest to goodness emotions turned to words, scattered upon the pages, with love. Simply, beautiful.   

I particularly loved the short stories. If anything, Dinesh Ravindra Gunaratne is a superb story teller and this is not the first time he has exhibited it. Unexpected plot twists, incredibly detailed accounts, he sucks you into these little parallel universes he creates with his stories and abandons you there, leaving you to your own antics. You simply could not rest until you’ve read it all. He has this old school style of writing, showcasing I think, a love for all things vintage and a sort of yearning for the past when things were lavish and dramatic. This, especially, appeals to me. Things are much too sterile and minimalist these days, boring in execution and insipid in design. His prowess as a movie maker sharpens his knack for story writing, these tales bringing characters to life and engraving them in your mind. These are memorable stories showcasing rare genius. It’s been a while since I’ve read a memorable short story, Dinesh’s being the first in perhaps, years.

Speaking about his movie making, I wish I had a few links to his short movies to back up my claim. But here is the trailer of just one of his many works called “Mata pissu naha” that I managed to find online after raking through tons and tons of material. However, do check out the Mathwada Facebook page managed by Dinesh and his best friend and partner in crime Naveen Marasinghe. This is bound to capture your attention. 

In the meantime I also found this. A short film named Cleopatra’s shoe, inspired by a story by the great G.B Senanayake, who also happens to be my favourite Sinhala writer.

Did I mention that they are also the creators of Mathawada? Checkout the site here.  

The book feels intensely personal. It is like the publishing of the book is the final let go of the pain and suffering and I could almost hear the writer shedding a sigh of relief, finally letting it go. I recognize this feeling. I can relate to it. It is akin to amassing all the gifts, the poems, the notes, written by and to a past love, making a huge heap of it in your front yard, ceremoniously setting it all on fire and watching the flames consume it all, a little bit of pain disintegrating, freeing you as the fire disintegrates the paper bit by bit. It feels deeply satiating. 

And another thing that really stood out at the event and further proved that he really is an individual dedicated to the arts – the book was not for sale. It was distributed among whoever attended and those who wished could have made a donation, any amount they liked at a cardboard box placed on a side table. And what’s more, anyone who wished could download the book online free of charge! Generosity, selflessness – never before seen characteristics in anything in this country, let alone in arts! In this and many other things Dinesh stands a unique individual and a worthy example.

The book was backed by a series of mesmerizing photographs by   Lakmal Ranasinghe, who was entrusted with the task of interpreting the work by DRG. I think he has done a marvelous job. The photographs are haunting and capture the essence of the woman - the root of the protagonist’s heartbreak. They are sensual, just like the writings themselves. You can checkout some of those photographs here.

A little word on the venue and the staff. Held at the Café Mocha by Barista right next to Gandara, the venue was charming with its wooden floors and the old school glamour to it, which I thought suited the event very well. And the staff was extremely friendly, ever ready to help and I could very well hand over the “staff of the year” award to these lovely boys and one girl who manned the place on that day.

Also, everything was 15% off to people who came for the event! That was definitely the cherry on top of the cake. At least for me :D

All in all, a beautiful, tasteful event, inspiring and refreshingly different. A wonderful booklet brimming with flavoursome things which for me was also emotions bound in paper Download the free PDF if you wish (and I strongly recommend that you do) and savour the loveliness. In the meantime, do enjoy the reading below.