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!

          

Festive times, happy times :)

It's that time of the year again! Such hustle and bustle, such activity and beautiful smells wafting about seducing the senses. A few burns and cuts are absolutely nothing. You brush them away and bury yourself ankle deep in your dough/batter/mixture again. These are wonderful times.

Side by side with Mother Dearest, two stoves, having a chat over boiling pots of oil, laughing and sharing cooking tips, gossip and frivolous banter, frying kokis in competition with the other and laughing at each other's blunders, these are memories in the making. Precious moments to cherish for a lifetime. When the time is right, I want to make such memories with my daughter too. These are intimate memories, more precious than what one could buy. When the flesh, blood and the bones are gone a long, long time, these memories are what will remain.

Skin smells of spices - cardamom, cinnamon, cloves and nutmeg blooms upon warm skin. Even after a nice cold bath on this unbearably hot and humid day, I raise my hands to my face and breathe in deep. The spices linger, middle notes, top notes, bright bold and ending sweet, serene and mysterious. What bliss! I could linger in this moment forever, but alas, forever in such moments are so awfully short. 

Beautiful days. Even the sun takes a break from its hegemony every once in a while. Still it is far too hot for comfort. Between iced teas, frozen yogurt and ice cream, life goes on.

Posted the recipe for kevum today. Do have a look! There will be more on its way from tomorrow onwards. Special Avrudu treats.

Life isn't perfect but one cannot deny that there are perfect moments. I don't attach much importance to superstitions of these festivals, but I do believe that we must celebrate these and celebrate these in essence. This is heritage, this is tradition. Without these, we will be shells. Just empty shells. 

Call me old fashioned, but I am a wee bit old school like that. I want to celebrate all traditions, I want to revel in my heritage. I want to get married upon a poruwa. I want to wear all seven necklaces, the sun and the moon in my hair and the traditional grandiose attire of Sri Lankan Kandyan royalty. I want to be escorted by a royal procession, booming royal drums and somersaulting royal Kandyan dancers. I want to boil a pot of milk on New Year, I want to eat, light the fires and start work for the New Year at the auspicious time. These things are special. It makes living worth the while.

Exhausted yet happy. Pumped up would be the word actually. There is much more to be done tomorrow - more cooking, more frying, more baking. Hello more blisters! Ah but they will be happy little blisters indeed! 

Await more recipes, essentially Sri Lankan, wonderfully unique. 

  

These rainy days

Rainy nights. Ooh I like this!

What I don't like is the pouring just when its time to get off work. I dislike mud with a passion. I dislike getting soaked after a hard day of work. I know, my relationship with rain is complicated.

Was stuck at work till a bit late today. Nights like this I rush home straight for mother's cooking. Nothing can replace that. Nothing.

After a warm wash, in my comfy pajamas, both feet up after having a full plate of mom-made rice and curry, I am a very happy girl :)

Afterwards perhaps, a nice mug of tea. Milk tea. With sugar. And a book for company. Oh I do love these solitary hours.

I have a certain quota for dealing with people per day. I can only deal with them until this quota expires. After that, I need to get away to recharge. Often time I do not feel like smiling or interacting at all. I need to be left alone when that mood strikes. This requires me to shut myself in my room and just read. Or write. Or simply, just be.

Yes I am a recluse like that. I often find company in a multitude of things and never feel alone when I am alone. I like my own company. It isn't too bad.

Completely random, something that irks me. Whenever I go for a client meeting, if it happens to be with a male colleague of mine, even though he happens to be my subordinate, the man is always assumed to be the boss and the only person who matters. Some clients have also been known to ignore me altogether right throughout. This used to happen quite a lot when me and my partner were working together.True that we both have our areas of expertise, but I often find people contacting my partner, rather than contacting me directly for matters pertaining to my area of expertise. I find this a bit insulting. Is it that it is assumed that a woman cannot hold responsible positions? Is it the general opinion that women are not strong enough to face challenging situations? Is it because women are not trusted to have the intelligence to handle complex tasks? Either way, it is rather insulting.

These days I have yet another preoccupation. My food blog! Finally, I have something of my own, something that I thoroughly enjoy doing. I am, in essence, a foodie and this is exactly the thing that I like to do. Cook, photograph, eat and blog about it! So far, it is going great. After all, nobody hates food!

Passing the bed time. These days I am determined to get at least 8 hours of sleep. I have my results so I intend to go on at it. Only tomorrow is a work day and after that, a long weekend that makes me smile just at the thought of it. Cz long weekend = sleeping in+cooking+just lounging about. Simply, bliss.

On yet another note, what I want to do most these days is just stay at home, lounge about doing nothing. My idea of excitement is great food and a great movie all by myself. What gets me all revved up is the thought of shopping for books and kitchenware. My celebrities are authors and chefs. Actors and actresses make me snort in derision and the mere thought of parties and etc just exhausts me. Am I growing old?

But come to think of it. I've never had a celebrity crush until Antonio Banderas. And then, Gerard Butler insisted on playing the tough man exterior - vulnerable interior Phantom of the Opera and got me all in a huff and a puff. That's it. I wonder if there is something wrong with me at times, to be so indifferent to the "heartthrobs" that everybody is swooning and salivating over.

Anyways, bed beckons and I need to answer when it does because I love it so. I am in a relationship with my bed. This is a relationship that had stood the tests of time, the only kind of true, unconditional love there is. We shall always be together. We are destined to be. Such, is my love for my bed, and all that it entails.

Yet another working day tomorrow, and a super stressful one at that. The only thing that stops me from going mad is the fact that it is only tomorrow that I will have to put up with. For now.

Eyebrow rape and other stories

My eyebrows were raped at the hands of a terrible, terrible salon personnel today. They are still recovering from their psychological wounds.

You see, I have very simple requirements when it comes to my eyebrows - to have two instead of one.  Nothing fancy, just enough to undo the Helga from 'Hey Arnold' look. The problem is, when these salon people see my eyebrows, they get all excited and want to take it all off (the eyebrows I mean). Some want to turn them into 'V's (I honestly don't understand what this is all about. Who'd want to have two circumflexes above their eyes anyway?) while some are convinced that they'd look super as super thin rainbows. Just get this straight; yes, I understand that my eyebrows are super bushy and yes, they might present themselves to you as the perfect playground to practice your craft. Whipping them into whatever you want them to be might seem all too exciting (cue whiplash), but the point is to shape them into what "I" want. I want them thick and there will be no compromising on that. After all, they are on MY face not anyone else's.

Same happens with my hair. 'OMG, SO much hair! Why do you want to cut this??','Such big curls! Let's straighten this!', 'You know what you should do??? Perm it!' are the usual reactions while some have other bizarre suggestions like 'let's dye it blue with green highlights. With your wavy curls, that would look so groovy!'. Honest to God, I'm not even kidding.

I'm not someone who frequents beauty salons, simply because the whole concept, the stench of bleeching and burnt hair somewhat depresses and nauseates me. So just like my eyebrows, I have simple needs when it comes to my hair. Just make it manageable. And without the straightening/rebonding/perming/colouring and the entire synthetic jingbang please. I'm not perfect but I somewhat like myself exactly as I am. And I will never get used to the high pitched gushing and screeching of beauty consultants, instructing the female creatures who walk through those doors about what is beautiful and what is not. I find it a tad patronising.  

That is not to say that all beauty consultants are the same. You come across some really awesome ones too once in a while, true artists who understand and work with all the natural flaws, inconsistencies and features of humans and accentuate their beauty, their uniqueness, interpreting them into something remarkable. Those, however rare, I cherish.

Thank God I have found such a hair person now who doesn't go bananas and mangoes at the sight of my hair. I am keeping her. Unfortunately, I am yet to find the luxury of such an eyebrow person as yet.

All this because my parents are celebrating their birthday tomorrow and I had to get them both gifts. Yes, yes they were both born on the same day, but years apart. And no, it's not cool cz every year right around this time I go shamefully broke from buying gifts for both of them at the same time. Plus all this wandering from one place to another in that impossible quest to find the perfect gift! Being a perfectionist does not help when you are out gift hunting...

Was out and about in Kiribathgoda after a long, long time. Couldn't help but wonder at how much things have changed. There was a time when the only bookshops in town were Samanala and the Gamage Bookshop. I used to get all excited when I was small when it was that time of the year when parents go out with their little ones with the list of books for school (this list has everything that the child would need for the term including pens and pencils, erasers, bottles of glue and etc). The smell of new books have always excited me and sometimes, if my parents were feeling generous, they would let me choose my own pencils and erasers instead of getting the boring, standard ones they usually give for the list. Fruity scented strawberry shaped erasers were all the rage those days and I'd always go for the most colourful pencils available. They were the most expensive. That is, if my parents let me.

Times have changed now and the children nowadays have much fancier things that I doubt if they really know the meaning of appreciation of what they get. The ability to get thrilled and be besides oneself over something so small like a fancy eraser was such a beautiful, innocent thing. I am grateful for those moments, I am grateful for those times. I feel sorry for the children of nowadays. I'd doubt if they would get impressed if even handed an iMac.

These bookshops have become forgotten holes in the wall, dark and gloomy inside, barely visible. It breaks my heart to see them now. Bigger and more luxurious looking bookshops like Sarasavi and Gunasena are looming over them now in their multi-storeyed glory while the others are shrinking under their gaze. It's sad. Just like everything else is in these changing times. Suddenly, I am left nostalgic for my childhood.

Back to the topic of shopping. Kiribathgoda is a fascinating place to shop if you've got a bit of time on your hands. While it isn't the best place to shop for the party that is tonight, once in a while you strike gold in the form of a gorgeous dress or a pair of shoes at unbelievably low prices if only you bother to dig far enough.

It always cracks me up whenever I walk into a shoe or a clothing store and a shop assistant asks me "Miss   මොනාද බැලුවේ". I always stop myself just in time from answering that I'm looking to buy some potatoes and coconuts for dinner. at the shoe store.

Well, I had no time for any of those today, what with dealing with an unending assignment and my perennial procrastination. And here I am watching videos of chipmunks doing stretching exercises on youtube and yapping crazy lady rants on blogger.

Back to my raped eyebrows. Tragedy is not even the word. So I walked home today in the rain with my scandalously thin eyebrows, letting the raindrops wash away my eyebrows' tears. And despite the heart wrenching tragedy, dare I say I enjoyed the walk? 

A Lady's thoughts on food blogs & procrastination

Lady Grouchalot finally has her own food blog! All my food rants, food adventures and whatnot will be posted on peckishme.com from now on and I cannot be more thrilled!

This food blog was years in coming and if it wasn't for our sweet web developer friend (who very graciously fit in this instantaneous request of mine in the midst of his extremely busy life, accommodated my wackiest whims and put up with my incessant nagging) this whole thing would not even have been possible. What I've been dreaming of for years, he pulled off in just two weeks! And just like I wanted it too. Kavidu, you are awesome!

On another note, foodsterous.blogspot.com/ will be no more as peckishme will take its place. Bye bye old blogger food blog! I shall miss thee nevertheless.

These days, by day I am a hardworking professional and by night, a somewhat reluctant student, bent under the weight of challenging assignments. On top of all that there are the other things that I must deal with like food blogs, poetry and a little bit of reading on the side. Life is constantly, shamelessly and unforgivingly demanding these days. I am on an adrenaline run. Juggling a highly demanding job role and a semi-secret scholarly life is somewhat complicated. I am, simply exhausted.

I have never been a fan of assignments. And these assignments are no exception. Isn't it amazing how everything else, even clipping your toenails become oh-so-engaging when faced with the task of writing an assignment? I have coined a whole lot of terms for my condition - academic lethargy, scholarly procrastination, students' block, study hunger being some of my frequently used terms. In fact, this very post is a result of my academic lethargy and scholarly procrastination.

Nothing has changed from undergrad days. NOTHING. So much for wishful thinking. Maybe, even with age and experience, some things never really improve.

Juggling life is what I do at this moment. Extreme stress period and it shows on my face. If I was to sleep 2 whole weeks, I will. Just to get a breather. Oh I am so tired.

But ah, the food blog! I still can't believe that I have one. Life was getting dull and one day I sat down and decided that I must have something that is mine and mine alone, something that makes me happy. I have realized that maintaining my own identity and having something to call my own is what it requires to be happy and content while working my socks (rather heels) off to make someone else's dreams come true. (Not that it is necessarily a bad thing, but some of us have a conscience that asks us strange questions sometimes) Having a child was not an option and neither is the novel I am writing coming out anytime soon. Hence Peckishme. com. My online baby :)

Right now, life is a mixture of the good and bad, the challenging, the unbearable and the sweet moments that make it all worthwhile. I am grateful for my support system, the handful of loved ones who have always been and will always be there for me. Right now, the rest of the world is one big, blurry haze and I don't really care. And the heat isn't helping either! Oh well, here's to cooler climes, friendlier, more humane colleagues and lesser assignments in the future. Here's to a more chilled out future. God knows I badly need one.

On love - an afterthought

I think love is based on action and reaction. I think it has very little to do with the appearance of an individual, one's personality or any other trait in the long run of things. While the above mentioned factors are applicable to short trice, I think long lasting affection is based on one's reaction to the other human being, the kindness and the attention shown, the amount of respect and regard that one has for another.

As someone who's had her fair share of long term relationships, I think I am entitled to these opinions.

It was while playing with my dog yesterday that this thought first struck me. It was after 3 whole days that he had seen me and his enthusiasm, his affection in general was overflowing; snuggling up to me and then toppling me over to lick and bite and poke at with his nose, not quite knowing what to do with himself in a fluster of excitement. This show of affection was and will always be, contagious. He is, as all the other dogs who have been in my life, one of those very few things I cherish in life, maybe even more so. But why do I love him so? Would I love him the same if he ignored me? Would I love him the same if he acted vicious towards me? I don't think so. I would be patient for a limited period of time, trying my best to love him, but I would have soon sunk into indifference. Such is the nature of a human being. 

People have different priorities, but speaking from a personal angle, appearance had never been a priority for me. It had not even been secondary or tertiary. Of course personality is what had always attracted me but it is how one reacts to me which becomes the crucial, retaining factor. Experience has confirmed that all the charisma in the world would not do if one does not respect, treat with attentive kindness and allow me to be myself with him without inhibition. This, I think is the secret to any lasting relationship. 

A younger me - a stubborn idealist, used to believe in 'unconditional love'. But an older, more exposed me wonders if there really exists an 'unconditional love' in this modern day and age. As per my notion, if not anything else, there will always be one condition; love and respect in return. Without these, how long can one's affections last? How much disrespect and indifference will one put up with before deciding to move away? We are all human after all. 

Whether one acknowledges it or not, the universe does revolve around oneself. Human beings are innately selfish and one tends to only invest in things if one gets a similar return. This goes against all romantic notions of love, but this is the stark reality as I see it. Where does romantic love end and practical relationships begin? One often tends to confuse one with the other and get lost among the two as a result.

People get into relationships for various reasons; loneliness - all your friends have settled down and you are feeling left out, Financial security, the glitz and the glamour, social pressure & biological clock issues, Super Hero/Heroine complex- the need to 'rescue' someone (a younger me is plenty guilty of this but an older and hopefully wiser me have decided to only stick to rescuing stray puppies. Those who want to be saved will save themselves. It is not up to me to save the world). But how many of us have gotten into a relationship because the other person really clicks or truly resonates with you? That kind of relationship is rare and will be the ONLY relationship that will truly make one happy right through one's life.

Which takes me back to my very first point - the reaction. While like-minded individuals who just 'click' are a rarity, those who will give you the respect, the kindness, love and attention that you deserve are even rarer. Whatever said and done, love and relationships are two very different things. The two do meet on very rare occasions and when they do, one is wise to hold on to it. Love does not always end in relationships and relationships are not always based on love. And god knows we rarely marry the ones we love. But where does this vicious circle end or begin?

They do say that the best kind of love is love unrequited, pure and untainted by reality. But I think real love, as raw and crude as it comes, is the best and lasting kind.

Oh I dunno. Just my tuppence on love post-Valentine's Day.