Month 2

Sunday, February 27th, 2011 (9.36am)

I've lost my password for the umpteenth time and can't post on the blog so typing up the updates on a word document.

J showed me some exercises to loosen my shoulders.
I seem to have put on a few kgs. I’m feeling slightly fuller in the midriff. Looks like the daily teaspoon of ghee at breakfast is doing the trick. I wonder how I’m going to maintain my tummy though if I don’t get some proper exercise.

I’ve been trying to make the time to exercise in the evenings but after Bhajan I discovered the Mind, Sound Resonance Therapy (MSRT). It certainly eased my neck pain though I don’t find shavasan the most comfortable position and therefore didn’t go for it for more than a week or so.

The month’s passing fairly quickly as we get more into depth of the subjects. Other than a handful of people in class, I can’t bring myself to speak to anybody. It’s the same in the diningroom. P left. Going to miss seeing him around especially since I was looking forward to learning to play the classical guitar. But it’s not like we great friends or anything. W finds my interest in the psychological approach to yoga interesting. I enjoy referring him to books I have read. But on the whole I enjoy being left alone.

Been reading a lot and one day this meditation just came to me one morning as I sat at morning prayer when I started breathing from the base of my spine instead of my abdomen. It filled me up with an energy while at the same time isolating me from the rest of the crowd, and liberating me. The whole day I was filled with a strange calmness and strength. So I tried it the next day as well. However on the night of the second day, I felt that the energy inside me was too great and needed to be released and I didn’t know how. I felt strangely elated but afraid. I don’t know if I had managed to even touch the kundalini, but decided that I probably don’t want to try it again without fully knowing what I’m doing.

I feel so tired all the time and want to sleep every little chance that I can. It seems to feeding a vicious cycle though because I don’t feel rested much. Just irritable. I am eating better though since I have easier access to the store and get more fruit. I’m beginning to think maybe I should go easier on myself so I wake up at 4.30am instead of 4.20am and shower before the morning prayer.

The whole month seemed like a build up to the 26th. I didn’t know if I should call home or not. Decided there was no need. Afterall what can I say or can someone else say that would be right for the occasion. Thank god my sister called me a few days before. It was good talking to her and Naren.

That was the day I had the good dream. Where I had dreamt that Bonny was leaving home. This time we all knew he was not coming back so mama hired a cab to take him to the airport. We all sat at the back of the cab. Bonny was resting his head on my shoulder. And I felt this immense tenderness towards him which radiated through him and back at me. There was no need for us to talk. Everything was going to be alright.
I had been having heart palpitations in the middle of the night earlier in February.

These episodes made my left arm numb. The residential Ayurvedic Doctor didn’t see much concerned. He just told me that I was anaemic and underweight and probably had low blood pressure. He also suggested that the cold could be a reason for the numb hand. I didn’t tell him that the cold should affect both hands and not just the left hand. He very helpfully suggested that I include more raw vegetables and fruit in my diet. I wonder if he had somehow not heard me when I told him I was a student there.

Anyway, I’m getting to the way things are done here. More or less. So I bought myself an iron tonic and B12 & C syrup.

I don’t enjoy the Tabla lessons anymore. So I let the teacher know that I won’t be coming in hereafter. I seem to have enough things to stress me out now. I don’t need anything extra. The cough and cold have come back as well.

Have been a bit annoyed since seeing the emails from the magazine crowd talking about blogging. I like the way they politely demand that the writers blog a minimum of 3 days a week. When it comes to remuneration though, they hazily say something about paying the writers 20%. I would like to respond to a particular line of theirs saying that they would rather the writers not engage in any marketing of their businesses as they blog about their experiences as business entrepreneurs. I’m not an entrepreneur. I’m on a journey. My writing is what supports me. And if they’re not able to remunerate me for my work, then I don’t think I need to spend my time writing for them. Simple as that.

On the 25th again I woke up with intense palpitations and the sick feeling as my left hand pulsated and numbed. I ate some biscuits and took the tonic deciding to visit the Allopathic Doctor the next day. I was slightly happier with the visit but not looking forward to the TSH profile I had been ordered to do. She thinks my symptoms are indicative of Hyperthyroidism.

Been missing hearing from Beau. Have this irresistible urge to feed him though so tried sending him a care package. But customs complications put a stop to that. He had mailed a couple of times while travelling and I detect a faint echo of the tenderness of past. But it is so difficult to judge from such a distance if his passion is cooling. Determined to just concentrate on my studies and let things take their own course.

Quite unexpectedly found myself talking to and enjoying the company of one of the YIC students. I also got a very sweet invitation to dinner with Y & J. Turned out to be quite a dinner. Y fed my body and soul. At the end of it she held my hands tightly and I felt a pressure easing within me as I began to cry. I can’t help feeling intensely sad that I will never see Bonny again. Can’t help but think that if only I hadn’t been so wrapped up in myself and had only reached out to him that day, he would still be alive.

Maybe this is the reason I need to stop smoking. Not that I have in more than two months. But I wonder if I do need to kick the habit completely or if I can enjoy the occasional smoke with friends. I never was addicted to it. Just wonder if it will set me back in my practice? I certainly haven’t been smoking since I got here and I have not been meditating or practicing my asanas as much as I used to last year.

Don’t think I have cried this much in the year past since Bonny’s death. So badly want to be comforted. So badly miss talking to someone who knew Bonny. Almost texted Beau telling him that if I loved myself half as much as I claimed to love the men in my life, I wouldn’t have put myself through this. Wanted to say that if I had loved my brother half as much he would still be alive. But I felt that was too harsh to unload on him.

So tried calling Mama and Akka but hung up as didn’t want to upset them. Dialled PK but hung up again as not sure I want to get that close to him. Just decided to dive in and call Beau. It was great talking to him again. I immediately felt much better and nothing seemed to matter much after that. He says he will call to find out how the blood test went. It would be nice to hear from him but I don’t want to get my hopes up.

The blood test the next day was not the pleasantest. I did enjoy the sensation of fainting afterwards though. It was with some reluctance that I came to when the lady at the clinic repeatedly called my name as she tried to revive me. I decided to stay in and not put myself through the painful experience of having to make small talk with people. I stayed in bed the whole day watching How I met Your Mother and didn’t feel one bit guilty about it.

I can’t find the photographs I had scanned while in Somaliland of Bonny, Gemmo, Akka and myself. When I remember that particular photography of Bonny at my birthday with the Humpty Dumpty cake, and again after he caught the eel and that last one of him by the pond as he playfully grimaced in the sunlight, I feel this terrible heaviness in my heart that he is no more. I can hardly believe it. I think this is how mama must be feeling as well.

Couldn’t afford to miss another day so came out today. However feeling so rested and peaceful after my self-enforced isolation yesterday that I was surprised to find myself slightly resentful towards people who try to talk to me. On an impulse I actually responded to someone who approached me after the morning prayer, that I was trying to maintain silence. I’m now sporting a zingy pink post it that proclaims to the random passerby that I am “IN SILENCE”. It’s funny how people seem to be more inclined to try and talk to me. Bizarre still that I find myself enjoying hiding behind the post-it as I politely smile and look away. I have nothing to say to people today. And I doubt they have anything to say that I want to hear.

The Adventure - Month 1

Sunday, February 06, 2011 (2.07pm)

A week shy of a month and I’ve decided to go ahead and keep a journal. It has been the most bizarre 3 weeks and I figured that if the coming 92 weeks are going to be anything like it, I would like to keep a record.

I thought about if for almost a year. Life was great. I was working, travelling, experiencing and loving it and hating it at the same time. It was time for a change. I wouldn’t have known it if not for Bonny - my witty, devilishly good looking darling brother who quietly slipped away. Leaving me with a void and a presence that I had failed to see when he lived.

People say they want to do something they love. I was doing what I loved. But I wanted more. I wanted to love what I was doing too. But I didn’t know how until Bonny’s passing.

The suggestion to get certified as a yoga teacher came quite unexpectedly, just as did a chance friendship with an Italian girl who happened to be visiting Somaliland from Kenya on work. And what an extraordinary friendship that was. You could say it marked my birth, growth and death. My eagerness grew like a rogue seed which had been hiding in the earth.

I checked out courses and found one which was being offered as a prerequisite for various academic and vocational courses in Yoga. I promptly applied for the Masters in Yoga & Journalism which was due to commence August 2010. The Deputy Registrar who had been in touch with me throughout the application process was very helpful in getting the necessary documents across so that I could get my visa. Everything worked out like clockwork despite the fact that I was up North in Sri Lanka working on a small project.

And then a couple of weeks before the programme was due to commence, I was notified that the course would not be starting as scheduled as there were not enough students on roll.

Maybe it was a blessing in disguise. After all, 2 years is a long time to someone who’s starting life over. Was I ready to make that commitment? When the Deputy registrar suggested I get on the MSc programme even as late as September, I politely declined.

But now, several starts, stops, detours and several yet more starts later, I’m finally here - three weeks into the programme, sitting in my quiet, neat little room after my first meal that doesn’t threaten to make me sick. Talk about rollercoaster rides!

I’d already been here in November of last year to complete the Yoga Instructor’s Course. Of course I had no clue that I would be in for the long haul. But I enjoyed the structure, discipline and energy that I found here. And so when after a grueling month my classmates jumped on the bus that would take them out of Prashanti Kutiram with their newly issued Yoga Instructor Certificates, I waved them goodbye. I had decided to stay on for a couple more weeks, absorb the energy, read and engage in Karma Yoga. I was at peace.

I’m sure that I’m not the first traveler who decided to change her plans and linger on. But I think I may be the first one who actually did so with no plan. I didn’t even speak to anyone about what next. I just woke up every morning, assisted with the next batch of participants for the Yoga Instructors Course, attended the morning chanting and discourse and the evening bhajan, visited the library, and made friends.

It wasn’t until almost the end of my visit and Karma Yoga was looking slightly more like Karma and less like Yoga that I haphazardly decided to apply for the January intake of Masters programmes. Having attended a few discourses on the Prasna Upanishad by the resident Swami and being entranced by the peaceful and almost transcendental quality of his glass-walled class through which the trees seemed more luminous and alive than anywhere else on the campus, I was leaning towards the Masters in Yoga & Consciousness. However, I was advised that it would not be easy as I would require a working knowledge of the Devanagri script in order to study the slokas which were in Sanskrit. Moreover, the course was offered only in August. With less than 2 days to go, I handed in my application, was lucky enough to have my selection interview early and that was that.

After 3 weeks in sunny beautiful Sri Lanka with my beautiful man, coming back to Prashanti Kutiram was surreal. It was a cold and brightly sunny morning and I remember how everyone seemed to be abuzz with theories of the end that was coming in 2012 and how we could save ourselves. My first impulse was to pack up and fly off to be with my Beau. I even turned back from the cashier deciding not to pay my course fee. After all if we were all going to perish what was I doing holing myself up in an ashram away from him? Standing at the entrance to the reception I texted him and was pleasantly brought back to the real world by him sweetly common sense response saying he was in a horrid meeting and would love for a cosmic shift right then. God bless him. This was why I needed him in my life. As much as he was able to take me soaring to the heights of ecstasy, he also brought me down to earth like no one else did.

I did end up paying my fees a week later even if only for the first semester. I’m enjoying the course. I did have a little difficulty settling in but that all seems to be in the past. I think if I can just learn to complain less and not react to situations in the coming year, I would have achieved a lot. I’m already learning because every single day has been a rollercoaster ride of emotions and if I kept a daily diary I would probably come across as schizophrenic. But I’m learning to let the emotions wash over me and though the waves buffet me, I am trying to learn how to stand my ground and not be overcome by them. So I’ll journal once a month.

Started learning the Tabla. My teacher says I’m a fast learner. I enjoy the classes though I would prefer if he let me practice by myself more rather than he giving me many new lessons everytime.

This month’s breakthrough? I mustered up the courage to tell my Dad I was sorry I was not a comfort to him in his time of loss. I told him I didn’t know what to do and asked him to take care of myself. He responded thanking me for the message and saying that it had come at a particularly lonely time for him. It is slowly sinking in that Bonny is really no more and I will never be able to see him or speak to him again. It is an awful feeling. I can’t even begin to imagine what my mother and father are going through. It’s going to be a year since Bonny passed.

I’ve been seriously thinking about cutting my hair again. This time I have even found someone who I think I can depend on to do it. But finally after 2 days of planning, I just chopped it off myself with a tiny crafts scissor. It took less than 5minutes and I like the new look. Makes me feel so much lighter and younger.

My neck hurts and my shoulders feel very tense. Maybe I should consider changing my pillow

It doesn’t have to be that complicated!

So after much heartbreak and many more failed relationships, some, which fortunately or unfortunately never even had a chance to take off, I’ve think I’m finally learning one very important, basic and simple lesson – namely, that things don’t have to be so complicated!

Men are actually much simpler than we think. And if we can just internalize this simple truth we can save ourselves a whole lot of trouble.

Easier said than done though, when the object of your affections is acting like the elusive White Rabbit and there you are, Alice, in the Wonderland of love, chasing after him. Can be quite frustrating – I agree.

Okay, first things first, remember that just like you, he’s an individual. So just because you are sensing doom and gloom from the silence your countless SMSs, emails and phone calls encounter, do not give in to the little voice in your head that might tell you all sorts of things – like for instance that he was just making use of you, has someone else in his life, doesn’t like you anymore etc etc. Remember, He is a man. He has probably had his fill of baby talk and cuddling and all those other things boyfriends and girlfriends do. Now, he is probably focusing on other things like work, life, friends, sports and all things fun. You should too!

Sitting around moping and waiting for him to contact you, and then running out of patience and bombarding him with a barrage of emails/SMSs/calls will not tell him that you are missing him and thinking of him. Not at all. Instead, it will tell him you don’t have a life and are trying to make him yours. And believe it or not, this could be a scary prospect for any human being – man or woman.

I was always curious when my guy friends talk about one of their exes and describe her as “crazy!”. So, one day, I asked one of my friends what exactly “crazy” entailed. And what do you think he said? Yes, you’re right – he described the very same behaviour that many of us are sometimes guilty of!

Of course I offered him a view from the other side and asked him if he didn’t think it showed him just how much his ex liked and wanted to be with him. At this he softened and conceded that yes, that was possible, and yes, they did have a great time together most of the time. But still, there was this behaviour that absolutely put him in a panic, the poor guy.

And I’m sure we all could all identify with this feeling of absolute panic when we are relentlessly pursued by someone who is more convinced than we are that we are “meant to be together!”

The good news though is that, we are neither of us crazy or bad. We just have the tenacity of bulldogs when we set our hearts on someone. And being the wonderful creatures that we are, we would like everything to be just perfect – be it the movie date, the dinner, picnic, party, his meeting with your friends and parents, the wedding and on and on we go.

Easy now! Slow down. There will be time enough for that. First give yourselves both the space and time to know yourselves alone as much as you need to know yourselves and each other when you are together.

I would like to quote here a powerful statement by one of our most original and inspiring spiritual teachers of our time, Eckhart Tolle. In his book the Power of Now, Tolle says that "[Relationships] do not cause pain and unhappiness. They bring out the pain and unhappiness that is already in you" (page 127). Something to consider when the little voice inside your head gets out of control and suggests all sorts of things when your better-half fails to respond or get in touch with you.

Another concept I like to draw on in my interactions in non-violent communication. The basic premise of non-violent communication is that humans are trying to meet needs in all their interactions. For example, you may be trying to meet the need of love, security, companionship and fun through your better-half. But if you are able to view your partner independently, without seeing him as a means to fulfilling your needs, you may be more accepting of the fact that he is not able to fulfill all your needs.

This doesn’t mean that your needs are irrelevant or invalid. It just means that you need to find alternate strategies to have them fulfilled. For example, can you fulfill your need for security by finding a fulfilling and well-paying job? Can you have fun and feel companionship through your interactions with your friends and family when your man is out doing his own thing?

Make use of the time to catch up on your work, reading, hanging out with friends and family, taking care of yourself, shopping, neatening up your closet and whatever else it is that you keep putting off. You will find your life moving along very well and soon you won’t even realize that you haven’t heard from him.

And then, when the simple man has done his work, caught up with his friends and family, had his car washed/fixed, played/watched sports or whatever it is that he was doing, he will have come full circle and be ready for some cuddle-time with you.

And believe me, when he finds you, all occupied with your life, the busy and happening babe, the primitive instinct in him to chase you down and be with you will kick in. And since you wouldn’t have sabotaged your relationship with him by acting “crazy”, you both might be surprised to find that you have a pretty good time together!

And frankly, that’s the basis for any successful relationship. So sit back and enjoy it! Remember, while it’s great to plan for the future, make sure not to miss out on your present (and your loved one) with all your planning!

(Published under Girl Talk on www.ariona.com.au)

Do you know?

Do you know what it feels like,
To realize too late what you wanted to say?
To play it again in your head,
Like a scene from the dead?
Do you know what it feels like,
To wish on a star?
You could gather the pieces,
Of your shattered dream
Or hold it together with a neatly sewn seam?
Do you know what it feels like,
To realize too late?
That the moments you spent
Were not memories you leant?
Do you know what it feels like,
To stand at the door?
And watch him walk away,
His bag on his shoulder
And your heart in it’s fold?
Tell me...
Do you know?

Lyric

I stare at the ghost in the mirror
& it stares right back
at me;
Guant & pale & eyes ringed a gunmetal
Blue...
Measuring my life with the ope & shut of
mine eyes;
A sleep walker trapped in time
Reigning in vagrant dreams
& songs my errant heart
does sing;
Of a time & place
& a man I once held…
Bearing an echo of him on my shoulder,
A tattooed claim to what used to be
Now my life’s
a lyric;
With a midnight kiss for
a chorus
Sung from the bottom
of a cup
Of coffee…

On Sushi

(Composed by Horus on 6th January '10)

Lost in a sensual delight,
I had some sushi the other night.
Now was it good? You may ask,
I’ll try and describe as a peculiar task.

Okay it’s raw, and sometimes slimy,
But it’s much better than a plate of spaghetti.
A salty spicy ocean in a bubbly universe,
In pungent flavors of liquid desires.

Would rather be swimming than walk in a forest,
To Ikura my love, Unagi my dearest.
Both are fish I would make love to,
If I, well, if I was a fish too!

The passion, rhythm, an explosion of sensation
Carries me over into an exhilarating fashion.
Finally when the last bit of sushi has longed,
An overwhelming orgasm has passed and gone.

So if you take me to dine,
It’s Sake instead of wine.
Cool texture and Wasabi fire,
The essence of a man and a woman’s desire.

Lost & Found

In less than a year, I have lost a husband, boyfriend, friend and brother.

A crazy year! – as I like to flippantly call it.

But what have I taken from this craziness?

I’ve learnt that the measure of a relationship is revealed in the way we treat people when we have nothing to lose or gain from them. This doesn’t mean you have to bottle up your hurt and anger. On the contrary, acknowledge it, give voice to it, and then deal with it.

I’ve learned that just because someone was not able to love you the way you wanted to be loved, it doesn’t mean that you are unlovable. It just means that they were not able to love you. So be all you can be and love like there’s no tomorrow. Don’t hold back just because someone else was not able to deal with it.

I’ve learnt that grief can do crazy things to you. Overnight, it can make you lose those pounds that you tried so hard to lose for so long. It can make you gaunt and hollow-eyed and wrinkly and grey. But only if you let it to. Feel the pain, and again, acknowledge it. But then listen to the birdsong outside your window, feel the breeze, sit in the sun, read a book or watch a movie or listen to music. Look up weird things on the internet, play Scrabble, talk to people, listen to them. And most importantly, don’t forget to shower and put on clean clothes and comb your hair and moisturize. And for god’s sake! Don’t forget to smile!

I also learned that the process of grieving is a natural and inborn coping mechanism. It is as private and personal as your bowel movements. There is no right or wrong way to do it. Just let it happen when it happens. And when it’s not happening, don’t forget to get on with life.

I also learned that our perception of what makes a good friend is simply that – our perception. You can’t judge a friend by his ability or inability to be there for you when you need them. Just as you hope that no one is judging you by your ability or inability to be there for someone else. So forgive easily and don’t hold grudges on perceived slights. If you want help, ask for it. If it is denied you, move on. Other’s have problems too. If knowing and spending time with someone makes you and them happy, then do it. If not, don’t. It’s as simple as that.

And lastly, it’s great if you are focused and have plans and dreams. But it’s ok if you don’t as well, just as long as you know what is important to you in life. But don’t get too hung up on what you want from life so much so that you miss out on what life brings you.

Love life, laugh and be loyal to who you are and what makes you who you are – your work, friends and family. Live!

And I am able to tell you this and mean it, because while I lost so much, I also found new friends who taught me to grow. I found new love and saw my old world in a new light which taught me to appreciate it more. And of course, all this helped me find parts of myself I never knew. And I’m loving the balance of losing and finding.

The Enemy Within

I hurt so I hate and so I hurt some more;
Fighting my enemies in my mind;
All those who oppose my -
Right.
The daughter-in-law who refuses to bow to my gods;
Or the wife who says I don’t know what kind of music she likes;
Or yet still the friend who doesn’t share my opinion on the way the country is run;
Trying to show each one that it is not them that is –
Superior.
Trying to make it clear who the enemy is;
And it feels so good;
As I launch my hate machines into the sun;
To fight the enemy –
Within.

Noise

On one side
Booms and clatters
of bombs and machine guns
the noise shatters our peace
It is a nuisance that has to be stopped so we can go on our way
“I have this dinner thing with friends down for the summer”.
This war will end it.
Its only a little while longer
and then
we’ll have peace.

On one side
Roars of
Multi-barrel artillery
Rip
through our heads and our chests
We know the drill.
“Run
and hide
in the bunkers”.
It’s getting
closer.
Hope we see this through.

Birth pangs

She walks with a spring in her step, lighter and freer than she ever remembers feeling. Since she heard the news, she has had something to look forward to. It steals into her mind as she goes about her day, like a secret love, making her heart quicken in anticipation.

It certainly had been some time since she ever dared think about anything as wonderful as the next day. It is a strange and wonderful feeling. Now, she positively glows.

The universe seems to pick up on her vibe and glow back. It’s a beautiful day, the sun shines with a never-before radiance, the air is quieter, crisper, fresher. Even the birds are out, singing in the cool breeze, and the passers-by smile at her. She feels beautiful, capable and strong as she touches the bulge under her blouse. She smiles to herself almost tenderly.

She savours the smell of street-food around her, looking in the store windows and marveling at the displays as she walks to the agreed spot.

She doesn’t have to wait long before she sees him approaching. She feels the old pang of recognition stir within her and marvels at her ability to put it aside. Yes, she is a strong and capable.

As he approaches, bustling in his importance, she is acutely aware of the man inside the uniform - slightly scarred and twisted, his fancy-dress is his both his weaponry and his shield. It is his license to do as he pleases.

She caresses her belly once more and smiles as she detonates.

A Fairytale Wedding in every sense of the word….

After dating for two years, my husband, Nikhil and I decided to get married rather quickly. Or rather the decision was slow but settling on a date that was convenient to everyone made it soon rather than later. We were also having 2 ceremonies (a Hindu ceremony in Chennai, India followed by a Catholic ceremony in Colombo, Sri Lanka). As I had not anticipated this new and exciting life-change, I couldn‘t help but wish I has been less of a spendthrift and saved up for my “Big day“. Being the quintessential girl at heart, I too wanted a fairytale wedding (but without the accompanying cash-crises common to so many South Asian families).

Luckily for us, Nikhil’s family was planning and putting together the Hindu ceremony. We had only the Catholic ceremony and the reception to worry about. As I was going to be out of the country up until barely 2 months before the Catholic ceremony, I got the ball rolling by going wedding saree shopping with my mum. Sophisticated darling that she is, she managed to get me a beautiful ivory colored Kanchipuram silk with gold brocade work. Other than the fact that I simply loved the saree, I was thrilled that I had to visit only one other shop before I found it at Rasi Silks (Wellawatte) and it cost us only Rs. 15,000/- !!!!

Next, we got my Maid’s sarees - crepes in a Flesh Pink tone - at a small shop in Pettah for Rs. 700/- each (with blouse piece). I teemed it with blouse pieces in Onion Peel Silk Cotton from Fashion Fabrics (Colpetty) to give it some pizzazz. The Maid’s jewellery (set of necklace, earrings and bangle for approx. Rs. 350/- each) was from Shrina Palace (Wattala) and matched my mum’s traditional family jewellery (crafted by the family jeweller in Jaffna back in the good old days) which I had asked to borrow for the ceremony.
Invites were also from a delightful little shop (again in Pettah). Done on textured cards with an embossed motif, they cost next to nothing and reflected simple and understated beauty. My mother’s friend helped by making a simple wedding cake (with little daisies, just like I wanted it) and individual wedding cakes to serve the guests, all at cost. The cake was packed in traditional-looking Indian drawstring pouches.
After hunting around for venues that would not be difficult to get to given the security situation in Colombo, I was ready to call off the idea of a reception. All the usual venues were 5-star hotels around Colombo’s Galle Face area - which is a hive of security check-points and road blocks. While getting to them after the service would probably be a nightmare on a Saturday evening, I was hesitant to pay a small fortune for Ballrooms and décor and what not. We almost settled for a Lawn but changed our minds when we were told the hotel would not make any provision for a marquee if it rained!!

Nikhil, who’d lived his entire life out of Sri Lanka (save for a short working stint during which we met) had been to a couple of weddings while in Sri Lanka. While we had a great time at the weddings, we knew for certain that we would not have a live band nor baila music at our own. Though having lived in Sri Lanka, I hadn’t really imagined breaking with tradition where venue was concerned. Of course, I hadn‘t counted on my husband‘s wonderful lack of compulsion to follow in anyone‘s footsteps.

That’s how we ended up with a wonderful little beachside party at The Golden Mile (Mt. Lavinia). The sumptuous buffet of fresh sea-food and vegetarian dishes, together with champagne and drinks cost us only as much as it would have for food alone if we’d gone with any of the usual hotels. Needless to say the wood-cabin style restaurant’s décor of lantern-candles and fairy lights coupled with the stretch of Mt. Lavinia beach and a full moon (which opportunely was the largest in the year) gave us an ambiance I doubt I’d have been able to achieve with any expensive wedding-décor. I am also positive that it was the combined positive thoughts of the Golden Mile Team that allowed the clouds to part and ensured we had a sunny and beautiful day ending in a beautiful evening under a clear sky in the peak of a south-western monsoon.
The only bump I encountered was in the department of “Bridal-Dressing”. The business of Wedding planning and Bridal Dressing is a lucrative one. But I had not counted on how stressful the whole experience could be to a Bride-to-be.

I opted for Ms. Janaki Kurukulasuriya at Salon Bliss (Wellawatte) because my cousin‘s wife had used her a few months before and as Bridesmaid, I found her seamstress to be excellent (she actually got a perfect fit from just one fit on!). However, all my well-articulated notes complete with pictures were no help as the lady refused to discuss anything until I was back in the country (barely 2months before the wedding!). So on her advice, my sister (who was incidentally my Maid of Honour) had paid a non-refundable deposit of Rs. 12,000/-.

I was optimistic on my first consultation, as I was fairly clear on my dream wedding. Unfortunately, for me, Ms. Kurukulasuriya, thought my saree was hideous! The only way I could escape being told I needed to get another saree (which incidentally was what my cousin’s wife had been told) was to say that the Groom’s parents had gifted the saree to me and I dared not change it. It was all downhill from there. The jewellery was dismissed with a disdainful shrug, my ideas for my own and the Maids’ saree blouses were criticized as “old-fashioned” and my request for a simple sheath of lilies condemned as “funeral flowers”.

Of course in her favour, she did suggest a bridal bouquet of roses at Rs. 10,000/-, (though personally I thought it was a crime to spend so much on flowers for a few hours) or the option of checking elsewhere if I so wished, as her suppliers wouldn‘t work within my budget. I say “helpfully“ because it was indeed a great suggestion which led me to find beautiful bouquets and hair pieces for myself and three maids (with boutonnières for Nikhil’s and my Dad), church and car décor in a pretty Daisies & Tulle theme - all for just Rs. 18,250/- from Flowers of Summer (Colpetty). It was excellent! And best of all, the proprietress of Flowers of Summer (Ms. Janaki de Soysa) was warm and helpful and made me really feel like I was going to be a Bride!! It was all discussed and arranged in just 2 visits and I didn’t have to worry about a thing once it was in the capable hands of the Flowers of Summer team. But back to my dressing nightmare, I was slightly jaded but stubbornly set on having my dream-wedding and therefore was (hopefully understandably) disappointed when I saw that my idea for boat-necked saree blouses was changed to scooped-necks at our first fit on. This was compounded by the fact that the dressing-room was a walled-off little space between the salon and the adjoining building, complete with ally-dirt, a barely covered drain and a makeshift roof. I was told that if I wanted to be dressed in a hotel room (which I did) I would have to pay the lady Rs. 10,000/- for her trouble (and this was in addition to her travel costs).

I could feel myself turning into the proverbial Bridezilla as I almost burst into tears. This was not what I wanted!! Correct me if I’m wrong, but wasn’t I the Bride-to be??? Didn’t want I want matter???? But I was in for a rude shock as I was told off very bitingly by the lady that I had an “attitude” and that she regretted having taken my booking!!!! So much for customer service and giving a Bride her fairytale wedding!

To cut a long story short, after a series of ugly phone calls in which Ms. Kurukulasuriya had apparently told the seamstress that she would not get any more orders if she gave us our outfits directly, and I was told I would not get my tailored outfits unless I paid a further Rs. 14,000/- I decided to cut loose and go with someone who would help me make my dream wedding come true. Though I was very relieved to be done with the good lady, I was unhappily relieved of Rs. 26,000/- for my trouble gained Ms. Kurukulasuriya’s expert condemnation that mine was the ugliest saree she’d seen in all her 30odd years in the business and the curse that I’d probably have the ugliest wedding ever!!

But in retrospect, I think I should atleast send her a thank you note because she (yet again!) did me a huge favour because I ended up going to The Cutting Station (Jawatte) where my stylist Leena did an excellent job of making us all look like glam-girls. Again I must mention the entire experience of pre-wedding trial and wedding-day dressing up left me feeling pampered and special. I got a free haircut and was dressed at the hotel as I’d planned for no extra cost! Brilliant!!
So fast forward to the long-awaited day, surrounded by my sis and mum (my pillars of strength and good sense), my angelic little nephew who graciously acted as Ringbearer, best girlfriends, dear friends and relatives, and my handsome (and oh so patient and loving) husband Nikhil, his loving family and best buddies, I felt radiant and beautiful and happy to become a wife (which is hopefully how all Brides feel irrespective of how much their bridal bouquets cost) Young and talented photographer Dhanush de Costa was at hand to capture it all.

Everyone had a great time and I certainly had a Fairytale wedding in every sense of the word.

The best thing about it was that it was just as I’d dreamed it would be and we didn’t have to worry about going into debt!!

Self Portrait

by David Whyte, Fire in the Earth (shared by Jeyanthy Siva on 2nd Nov. '08)

It doesn’t interest me if there is one god
or many gods.
I want to know if you belong or feel
abandoned.
If you know despair or can see it in others.
I want to know
if you are prepared to live in the world
with its harsh need
to change you. If you can look back
with firm eyes
saying this is where I stand. I want to know
if you know
how to melt into that fierce heat of living
falling toward
the center of your longing. I want to know
if you are willing
to live, day by day, with the consequence of love
and the bitter
unwanted passion of your sure defeat.

I have been told, in "that" fierce embrace,
even the gods speak of God.

RISK

Author unknown (shared by Bishan Rajapakse on 8th June '08)

To laugh is to risk appearing the fool
To weep is to risk appearing sentimental
To reach out to others is to risk involvement
To expose feelings is to risk exposing your true self
To place your ideas, your dreams before a crowd is to risk their loss
To love is to risk not being loved in return
To live is to risk dying
To hope is to risk despair
To try is to risk failure
But risks must be taken,
because the greatest hazard in life is to do nothing.
The person who risks nothing,
does nothing, has nothing, and is nothing.
They may avoid suffering and sorrow,
but they cannot learn, feel, change, grow, love, live.
Chained by their attitudes, they are a slave,
they forfeited their freedom.
Only the person who risks can be free

The African Adventure - Settling in....

So I finally was disgusted enough with the whole work scene and decided to put myself and my loved ones first. I’ve quit my job and lazed around for a whole month (not nearly enough to make up for all the frenetic days but still it’s a start). Now I’m ready to go visit my partner in Africa!

The last few days of cleaning up and vacating the flat were fun because they were interspersed with drinks and meals and catching-ups. So I am finally here in Hargeisa, Somaliland. The flights were mercifully short & the transits too but I was so keyed up it was no joke.

Africa is something else. But as long as you are out for adventure (like I am!) you should have fun. My luggage got here a day later & the suitcase is in pieces & when I asked someone at the airport if the airlines would take care of it I was informed calmly that "this is Africa". My partner says I should shed “work mode” and learn to chill out and not stress about stuff and that's exactly what I propose to do!

So I'm all unpacked and now fully settled in to the ridiculously & unnecessarily large house (named Gorgor to mean Eagle). We share the house with with my partner’s colleague and another guy from the development world. They are both good fun and so far we've had awesome fun taking walks (we saw Dikdik - tiny deer like creatures which are smaller than dogs - a tortoise, a desert snake, goats and assorted birds and insects) watching movies, soccer, having dinner at the local Fish & Steak house and generally having a great time.
When I arrived I was told that one of our housemate’s friends (also from the development world) had been kidnapped by rebels but thankfully they were released the following day. Apparently this is a fairly regular occurrence with people being kidnapped and held for ransom. (Apparently) the hostages are treated well and there is nothing to fear(!)

The flight into Somaliland from Ethiopia was spectacular. The landscape is a mosaic of ridged and ruled greens and browns with diamante-glints of tins roofs. The city itself looks like it is laid out in a large dish and the view from our rooftop is beautiful.

The people are extremely friendly and easy going. Traffic is no different from any under-developed country you’ve been to but what’s great here is that people shout out in a friendly manner, smile and shake their heads and go on their way – which is very refreshing. You get greeted (with the Somali Navat!) whenever you take a walk and we always look like the Piped Piper with a string of kids following.

The terrain is slightly hilly and its cold in the shade (we don’t have/need fans/ac in the house) and in the evenings it gets pretty chilly while outside in the day the sun is scorching. The women are tall and strikingly beautiful in their colorful long dresses and flowing veils (like our maid Xaraqiya – pronounced Haraqiya - who could be a super model in different circumstances).

The women look amazingly serene despite the hard work and heat and carry their babies in slings across their backs. The little ones get to ride under their mother’s veils if the wind/sun gets too harsh. The men are quite noisy and sometimes I think there’s a fight breaking out but it only turns out to be friendly banter. Our office assistant Abdi (Abdul Rahman) and driver Ahmed are very friendly and helpful and since the office is set up downstairs always stop by to say hi and check on how I’m doing.

We have a visitor staying over for a few days and hope to host our first party tomorrow (Thursdays being half days and Fridays being the day off) I’m now silently cursing myself for bringing only one bottle of wine but our guest has brought us a small gift and between the guys I’m sure they will be able to conjure up something. Anyways the company promises to be good so its going to be camel/goat barbecue tomorrow!!

I’m still in the lazing-around-phase and crave for little tasks like seeing that the internet guy gets the work done and writing out grocery lists and planning where to put up pics. Between yoga, meals and lots of movies (yep we’ve got cable!) I can see I’m getting thoroughly spoiled and look forward to meeting some people at the party tomorrow to check out work opportunities. At present BBC Food is my favourite channel and my partner is my unsuspecting guinea pig (he doesn’t like the term lab rat). Meanwhile I’m also seriously considering learning the language.

Prep work on the proposed vegetable patch is being meticulously carried out by our watchmen (Daud and Mohomed) but I think we will have to build some cover first or the plants will never survive the wind (which I can hear even now at 10.33am howling outside)

I’m still a bit hesitant about carrying my camera around and appearing all “touristy” so pictures are yet to come.

Survivors guilt

I feel ill and there's a churning bitter bile rising in my throat.

It's not the the usual glad rush of getting "last-minute-gifts" for a friend going away. No chocolates, clothes, toys or novelties are required. These are distractions they have no need for.

So I have sent Shanti on her way with a bagful of medicines. Remedies for all types of bodily ailments. But she needs remedies of a different nature. She needs to be able to be. To laugh. To hope. To Live.

She carries the bag carefully not wanting to appear ungrateful. But I know that it is just weight in her hands and I am sorry I am sending her off, with this heavy bag. Heavy with my guilt and hope. Guilt that I am me and she is she and that we live such different lives though we are no different in the eyes of those who classify and demarcate according to ethnicity, race and other glorious things. Hope that we could be equally free to live a life of our choosing.

As the car pulls away I pass by the early morning flurry of people going on with their lives. They are standing at a counter of a new and sleek-looking sales outlet sporting a board that proclaims the sale of "fresh fish at cheap prices".

I swallow down the bile rising in my throat.

Shanti is on her way home, back to Jaffna.

7.56am outside the Expo Air office in Colombo on 14th June 2008

Mea Culpa

This year, I missed Ash Wednesday. I unconsciously avoided watching television or reading the newspapers. I didn’t call my family or friends. I felt it helped me stay slightly removed from the madness of military victories and resultant casualties or indiscriminate violence and the bitterness it left in its wake.

I was only reminded that the season of Lent had begun when I received an email from a friend on how to make self-denial more meaningful than mere fasts and prayers.

This time of the year usually brings back memories of crowded churches I attended as a child, and the people lining up to kiss the feet of the statue of the crucified Christ.

However, for the last year or so, my memories have been of a service I attended in a church in Colombo. A member of the congregation spoke of Jesus’ long walk to Calvary bearing a 110 pound beam on which he was going to be nailed and left to die.

Beaten and tortured, he staggered and fell. Fearing he would not make it to the place where he was to be crucified, the Roman soldiers compelled an unwitting passer-by, Simon of Cyrene, who had just come in from the country, to help him.

The speaker explained how crucifixion was the worst form of punishment given to criminals and the shame and humiliation attached to such a fate. It was also believed that anyone who touched the cross would be defiled and could not take part in the Passover.

Imagine what Simon must have felt like when he was asked to share in this fate. To stand next to a man who was already half dead having been taken from trial to trial and beaten and humiliated. To walk with him amid the jeers and taunts. Carrying the sign of shame.

I couldn’t begin to imagine what it must have been like. Then the speaker compared this incident to all the many times we are called upon not only to witness the humiliation of someone else but to share in it. The example he used was his own experience in Jaffna long before the legendary “83 Riots”.

I can still remember him standing up there, telling us of an incident he witnessed while visiting Jaffna in the early ‘80s. He told us he saw a member of the Sri Lankan military reach down from the back of the truck he was travelling in and knock down a cyclist with the butt of his gun as he drove by. He said seeing the military behave like an occupying force in a foreign land, he had felt then that we were headed down a very dangerous path. How long could this go on? He said the letters he wrote to the various newspapers never made it past the censor.

More than two decades later, as we begin the season of Lent, I am reminded again of this man who dared speak of what many of us choose to ignore.

I wasn’t too sure what ethnic group he belonged to. But I was aware that he cared enough to stand up in front of the crowd and talk about something which most of us would consider "controversial".

Protected by censorship and fed by propaganda, we choose to be happily ignorant of what goes on in the “war-torn areas”. Even when are own streets are torn apart by the war which is no longer confined to these areas, or our neighbours are pulled out of their homes and taken away, we choose to happily sigh and pass on by.

We choose to turn a blind eye and a deaf ear to the many who stagger under their crosses of hopelessness, violence, harassment, fear, poverty, starvation, coercion, injury, grief, loss and death.

We choose not to care. We choose to let others do what they do because they have the authority to do so. We choose to ignore the injustice and the wrongs. We choose the crucified plaster statue to the real thing. We can endure blood as long as it comes out of a tin and doesn’t soil our hands.

And so as yet another brother falls and his mother wails, we must pray Mea Culpa… Mea Culpa… Mea Culpa…


11th February 2008
11.19pm