tears

So I came across a post about No More Tears Sister the documentary about a Tamil woman fighting for her rights against a movement she once embraced and she had this to say which was strong and sad and true: "One day some gun will silence me. And it will not be held by an outsider — but by a son — born in the womb of this very society — from a woman with whom my history is shared."

shtuff

Dinner last night at the Gallery Cafe with cousins and mothers and people who I'd grown up with and never realized I missed until they were gone. The food was excellent, copious amounts of red wine, fresh seer fish, coconut risottos, black pork curry, brinjal pahi, tender lemongrass and ginger chicken, spaghetti with pan-fried mullet and pine nuts complete with dessert of jaggery creme brulee and a lovely cold, chocolate panna cotta. Food glorious food as the Oliver Twistian lyrics go. Did anyone ever know I played Mrs. Bedwin in a school production of Oliver Twist in Sydney and I had to sing in a plaintive song "Where is love? Where is love? Is it over there, in the window pane or something like that. Little did I know that like more than 15 years later I would still be singing that same damn song. I remember other bits of Australia too, how I ran for election as school captain and had to threaten/coerce my baby sister into corralling the third grade to vote for me (I was in the fifth grade). (I won the election btw). She told me ten years later that though the third grade voted for me, she herself did not coz she hated me! hahaha. I find this diabolically funny.

gate foundation

Just found out that Warren Buffett is going to donate the bulk of his personal fortune to the Gates Foundation (after Gates himself stepped down from his executive/technologist role at Microsoft to pursue his philanthropic career). This would further catapult the Gates Foundation as the largest NGO in the world. Although its role is primarily as a funding organization and not as an implementing agency, nevertheless, the size of its grant pool has considerable ramifications for the global NGO sector. The sheer doubling in the size of global aid worldwide will lead to further problems of accountability and transparency in the sector, no matter Amnesty's newly released charter on accountability. Scaleability is the next issue. Watch this space

bits and pieces

A suicide bomb attack in the suburbs of Colombo today. High-ranking military commander dead, along with 5 other passers-by. I wonder who they were. This coupled with the attempted assassination last month of the Army Commander, also in Colombo, is illustrative of the new LTTE tactics in the face of the EU ban, the Oslo Communique and the presence of other perhaps paramilitary-funded anti-LTTE forces. In any event, it is certain that this is a provocative attack designed to generate a military response from the government (perhaps even a declaration of war from the govt.) which in turn would result in a massive, totalistic response from the LTTE. The moment that the govt. responds, if and when, with decisive force, the LTTE can tell the international community that they had no choice but to also respond with a military option.

It was a long weekend, where a cousin-in-law got baptized at a 200 year old church in Kynsey Road, built by the British, with long arching ceilings and Christ hanging forlornly off his perpetual cross, where I had a full facial, a foot massage and pedicure, eyebrows threaded (PAIN!), a lesson in sari draping, some intensive waxing, all for the insanely low sum of USD 40! It would cost a good USD 150 elsewhere, all this, at least. Also a weekend where a best friend turned 26, where another good friend wedded at the Fullerton with white columns and cornices, and where my mother flew into town for the weekend. Also a weekend, where because my internet was down, and my phone was not working, I finished watching Season 2 of 24. That's a good 36 hours of 24 watching in a WEEK!

This is an interesting and accurate comment on NGOs in Sri Lanka (in response to the measures taken by the govt, perhaps prompted by a leftist party resenting NGOs, in order to promote greater transparency amongst NGOS here and also to TAX the income received in grants by NGOs).

"NGOs in Sri Lanka often mimic the very parochialism they seek to transform in government. Clamouring for donor aid, scarce human resources, a paucity of genuine innovation and ideas, inflated egos and personal vendettas, Sri Lanka’s NGO sector is rife with problems that none can deny and is not generally one big happy family.
.... NGOs need to mature into institutions that are better able to work together and share resources. This maturity is vital in light of the vital role NGOs play in the peace process in Sri Lanka – as hubs of information, research, advocacy and civic engagements in support of justice, reconciliation and peace. At the same time, and with equal emphasis, a peace process demands NGOs to respond to voices opposed to the peace process, claim a large degree of public support and state that NGOs, as entities not democratically elected into power, lack the legitimacy to represent the views of various peoples"

going to london

I am going to London in less than a week! I can't believe it! I picked up the ticket today and had to take a moment to really look at it, to really believe that I was actually going to go home, at least for a short while. And the way that my Boston tickets are configured, I'll get to go to London again on the way to Boston and back, so that makes it 3 times in the next six months that I'm going to hit London. HALLELUJAH!

Do you have any idea what this means? I just sent out the schedule to CLOSE friends. That would be Sumathy, Arjun, Lewis, Radovan, Stephane, Raheman, Sofia, Ling, Krishan, Shanil, Akhil, Shaman, Lisa, Przemek, Salvatore, Julie, Imran, John and Bella. Do you know how many friends I have here? I mean people who I can call up and say let's head out for a coffee? The massive total of TWO!! I had a freaking life in London. And too bad I only realized it when I lost it!

I can't fucking wait. And yet, I have never and will never regret the decision to leave.

itty bitties 2

hiatus

So I managed to watch 24 episodes (17 hours of viewing time) of Season One of 24, which to be quite honest, I have not managed to catch in the last five years since it debuted, in three days. That's some hardcore viewing folks, averaging approximately six hours a day after work starting at 9pm. I'm bleary and tired but it was worth it. Sadly, now I have to get Season 2 ASAP peeps. I can't believe it was Nina!

Moving on. What else has happened during the last three days? I'm not sure, I can't remember. All I know is that I'll be in London next week (HALLE-FREAKING-LUJAH) and about to be a bridesmaid. Which means that approximately in the next week, I need to find a tailor and give them blouse material and the works. Sigh. And find beige shoes. And learn how to tie a sari (crikey).

I had some positive thoughts two days ago, but I can't remember what they were. This is not to say that I'm swimming in negativity at the moment, merely that there is a hiatus at the moment.

(un) rest in peace

Source: Tamilnet

The parliament resumed its sittings Tuesday morning at about 9:30 a.m. and after the conclusion of normal business of the House, Mr.Wimal Weerwanse, the Propaganda Secretary of the Sinhala nationalist JVP, with the permission of the Speaker made a special statement on the Kebbitigollawa blast.

Weerawanse charged that the LTTE was for the Kebbitigollawa massacre of Sinhala civilians including children and women. He appealed to the Sri Lankan government to ban the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE) in Sri Lanka.

Thereafter he requested that the House should observe one minute silence for those killed in the Kebbitigollawa blast, sources said.

At that stage TNA parliamentarians Mr.N.Raviraj, Mr.S.Gajendran and Mr.Ariyanethran walked into the well of the house protesting against for not observing silence for Tamil civilians killed elsewhere in the North East.

That drew heated arguments between JVP and TNA parliamentarians. JVP parliamentarians Mr.Wimal Weerwanse and Mr.Nihal Galapathi rushed to the well of the house and pushed back the TNA parliamentarians to their seat.

Mr.T.Maheswaran, a Tamil UNP parliamentarian also entered the fray at one stage in support of the TNA parliamentarians.

Both groups thereafter engaged in fisticuffs and the Sergeant-at-Arms failed to restore order by bringing the two parties under control.

As the situation went out of control, the Speaker adjourned the sittings till 10.30 a.m.

random

A friend of mine has a great post on RGS and literature class, I only wish I could or knew how to link to it. It's actually rather hilarious. One sad thing was that the girl who was mentioned in the post, is no longer alive. I remembered her, briefly, as an extraordinarily intelligent, passionate girl, who was always the subject of discussion. I also remember her as extremely lonely.

I just finished watching a film adaptation of the Chekhovian play "Three Sisters". It was really not bad. Incredibly sad however, how the abuse of childhood, or the experiences in childhood come to shape an adult, their insecurities, their obnoxiousness, their loneliness. If only we learnt how to overcome what happened when we were young. Why don't they teach us that in school? Teach us to face the future with love and honesty?

roomers

So it's confirmed! I'm going to be living in a 4 room mate house for the next year at least, and possibly more. This, after having lived alone for the last three years. I can't believe I've lived alone for the last three years. The last two years of living alone though, in Sri Lanka has been the worst and I am very glad that I will be living with some company. Even if they turn out to be drug-abusing schizoids who have never read Ondaatje, I will suck it up.

Hora!

Today, being very hungover from last night's excesses and chiefly Rocklands Dry Gin, I was rudely awakened by a text message “We’ve been robbed. Get to the office asap”.
Showered and dressed, (the rapid response jumbling the cuttlefish and gin, making me nauseous) hailed an auto and told him to step on the gas, fearing the worst. Came to the office at the ungodly hour of 8:30am to find that the rest were at the police station filing the case and trying to get some brass down onto the scene.

We were not allowed to go into the office until the police arrived at the crime scene. So the staff sat outside on the terra cotta porch, waiting for the Force to turn up. We have computers (insured) and petty cash (uninsured) and that’s about it (we’re a freaking NGO for god’s sakes). Sum total of cash lost, : USD 150 (relatively big money in Sri Lanka). I know this day already is going to be one long, bureaucratic mess. Colleague informs me that Chief Inspector at local police station looks like Aamir Khan. I hang around, in the futile hope of salvaging something from the day.

The police turn up 4 hours later in a jeep (no doubt after their morning tea when they finally decide to attend to the day’s work) and the Chief Inspector descends, booted foot on the ground (EXACTLY like in the tamil movies). (Let the record reflect that there is no way he could even be a distant relative of The Khan). He parades around importantly, opening drawers, posturing, postulating. Turns out it was an inside job (which any fool could see since the ‘hora’(thief) zeroed in straight on the drawer where the petty cash was stored and jimmied the lock, leaving all our valuable computer equipment untouched. He had also broken open one of the back doors too to enter, since the front doors were impenetrable when locked. Had left one perfect muddied footprint. Also apparently had dinner at the office before he did his job since there was a food pack on the ground. The Nerve!

Chief Inspector straightens his shirt and slicks back his hair upon seeing me. Sidekick (head bowed, back bent) follows him like an eager puppy, not daring to look at me. The Sergeant of course. I half-expect Goundamani to come bounding from another door, but it's not a movie set, it’s just another day for the Dehiwala Police Force.

The crime scene is cordoned off and we’re not allowed to go into the office until the fingerprinting experts (from the CID and not the police force) turn up. They come of course after a leisurely lunch, by which time it has been five hours since the discovery and since I came in. (Notable sightings, a wild parrot in our guava-fruit tree).

I’m broiling in the heat,being bitten alive and ready to commit bloody murder. Oh, and by the way we had an interview today and I had to take the hapless candidate to the nearest Pizza Hut. Turns out he’s the chairman of a national board and wants to change jobs because everything is so damn political and uneducated louts with letters of appointment from the minister are in charge. (I could go on but I won’t).

Staff and I have an intense political discussion, about Marxism and its role in developing countries. Also about censorship. There's a Sinhala film with some nudity that's been rated as Adults Only but someone's written to the President and being the cultural lodestone, he's vetoed and banned it. The Da Vinci Code is banned here in Sri Lanka by the way.

Three fingerprint experts turn up, one to put the powder, one to dust, one to photograph (How many policmen does it take to change a lightbulb? One to change the lightbulb, one to tell him how to change the lightbulb, one to file the report). They dust everything in sight, covering probably 50% of the 2000 square foot office, including areas where the hora would have no plausible reason to go to. Turns out that the hora has used the girls bathroom.

The frenzied dusting turns up one pristine fingerprint. Everyone’s excited at the breakthrough and much photographing is done of said fingerprint. Turns out later that it was one of our staff’s fingerprints . Excitement dies down. I watch flies copulating. We all have lunch on the steps, washing our hands and feet with the garden hose. It feels wonderfully communal and I have the ever-frequent thought: how will I possibly leave?

Finally after what seems like a lifetime (during which we exchange jokes; here’s a classic. What does the man who wants to lead the best life do? He gets his salary from America, his woman from India, his car and equipment from Germany and his food from China. What does the man who is consigned to the worst life get? He gets his salary from India, his woman from America, his car and equipment from China and his food from Germany (HAHAHA)), they’re done fingerprinting and taking records of the footprints. We’re all fingerprinted too. It’s kind of exciting, but in the ‘watching paint dry’ way. The fingerprint experts pack up a mountain load of shit (despite only using talcum powder I think and camel-hair brushes). One of the littler boys who help us pack books says he’s terrified to stay alone tonight. We found a barefoot print too, so turns out there was two of them.

Finally, with half an hour left till close of business, we’re allowed back into the office. The internet promptly dies and the electricity goes off. A perfect end to a perfect day. So everyone packs up and heads home, exhausted from having done absolutely fuck-all. I asked them, doesn't this get your goat? To waste this much time? To wait and wait ? In unison they said "This is Sri Lanka".

Fanaa

Where do I start? The day before yesterday, the boys and I were going mad with the routine of neverending work and home and decided to bust out and go and watch Fanaa; a new Bollywood movie starring the ever-improving Aamir Khan and the incandescent Kajol (redebuting after 5 years). It was an oddly sweet, sad movie about independence, violence and love and a lot of it resonated with me. There were two moments when I felt that Aamir Khan had nailed his acting, and it was perfect (and I rarely see those moments in Indian cinema). One was when he was half-dead, struggling through the snow, knocks on the door of the nearest house, sees her, and there was this look of horror, longing and love that was pitch-perfect. The other moment was when after he accidentally kills her father, goes into the Colonel’s house and transmits his message and then he sees the Colonel at the doorway, having listened to his message, and Aamir Khan looks so tired, and so defeated because he knows what he has to do and does not want to do it.

Then the boys and I went to watch the Tunisia-Something or Other match at a nearby bar and knocked back the gins and cuttlefish and talked about life and love (or more accurately love failure). There is so much hidden tragedy in the office, in everyone’s lives and we skate over it, bury it, recessed. One colleague remembers the 83 riots and his house being burned down, and having to hide in a neighbouring cellar for two days. One colleague’s brother was shot and killed by an accidental gunshot from a policeman in pursuit of an unrelated thief (and I thought things like that only happened in Mouna Raagam). One colleague had to sell jackfruit from the trees for 50 cents to make it through his university degree and now has a girlfriend who is suicidal. One colleague never got to go to university because of the war and the limited intakes. One colleague’s father left to go abroad and never came back. One colleague’s husband abuses her and she is having an affair. One colleague is an ex-child soldier and has nightmares to this day.Why, why all these hidden human tragedies, reflective of a nation’s larger, forgotten, recessed tragedies?

Anuradhapura

Am listening to Khoon Chala from Rang de Basanti. I don't know why films like that, Swades, Fanaa, resonate. Because I think it highlights that there is so much wrong with the immediate world that we inhabit. And I'm not talking about the larger problems of world peace. I'm talking about the very specific problems of the subcontinent.

Today there was a large bomb explosion, killing 64 people, wounding 75 others. Retaliation swiftly followed in the form of aerial bombing of LTTE controlled areas. The explosion site was , as usual, where we do a lot of our work. The pundits are yapping about the definite, inexorable return to war. After 3 brief years of a better-than-nothing peace, it is inexpressibly sad.

I was never a peacenik. But, as Gandhi says, "When I despair, I remember that all through history the ways of truth and love have always won. There have been tyrants, and murderers, and for a time they can seem invincible, but in the end they always fall. Think of it – always."

the way it used to be

An anonymous letter to a newspaper in Colombo, that I came across accidentally and which expresses more than all the pundits pontificating.

'The way it used to be'

The gram sellers at Galle Face Green sold their 'kadala gottu' topped with 'isso wade' for twenty-five cents.

The movie goers at Savoy cinema came out; Couples went to Aleric's for ice cream and families miserly budgeted for Chinese fried rice at Golden Gate.

Gunawardena opened batting for the Tamil Union and Sunderlingam kept wickets for the Sinhalese Sports Club.

This was once nostalgic Sri Lanka on easy street sans the raging war and the terrible turmoil;

The 'Yal Devi' took the Madhu pilgrims and the 'Ruhunu Kumari' carried the Kataragama clan. Marawila fishermen fished at Mullaitivu with the monsoon change and Lever's and Reckitt's Sales Reps sold toothpaste in Jaffna and drank 'Tal Raa' whilst bathing in the Keeramalai Tank. The Vel Cart used to come down Wellawatte and the waiters worked double time at the Sarasvathi Lodge.

The differences were there from the North to the South, but who cared?
Nobody killed anyone. There was life, simple and in peace.

Bala Tampoe took the CMU out on strike every year and the Parliament changed colours every five years with mythological promises.

That was acceptable.

The queues got long at the CWE to buy "Jumping Fish" and the bread prices leap like high jumpers. Those were our big problems.

The smiles were there too, affordable to the all and sundry, beat shows and big matches, sports meets and school carnivals, all within a ten-rupee budget.

Fashion-wise, the pinnacle was the CR-Havies match at Longdon Place; the Suzettes and Claudettes were there, dazzling in mini skirts, making their best attempts to get partnered to go to the Coconut Grove and jingo and jive to the Jetliners. Some made it to Akasa Kade too, to eat egg hoppers and hold hands and become more naughty whilst pretending to be watching the ship lights at the Colombo harbour.

There was peace; it was a long long time ago. That was before the Morris Minor taxis changed their English alphabet number plates.

Then came the carnage. Who's to blame? Don't waste time, that's kicking the moon and corralling clouds.

We all know better. We are all to be blamed, some for cheering and others for their silence. It has always been 'our soldiers' - but it is their war.

The guns are silent now and the talks go on and hope seeps slow like a weed-clogged wave. If the gods are kind, we'll have peace. Let it lie there.

North and East must be separate 'Don't give this', 'cant' have that', 'autonomy? What nonsense?"

Such passionate phrases below from borrowed patriotism.
'
My son has to study', 'No no, not to join the Air Force', 'Army?

Are you mad?' The same voices add the contradictions.

'We must continue to fight at any cost'.

Brave words, quite cheap too when rights and wrongs are just "whys" sprouting out from empty opinions on even emptier forums.

Try telling all that to mothers who buried their sons or children who pray for their missing fathers. Voice it to a legless 'Boy' from Velvettiturai or a sightless soldier from Devundara. Or may be to a lover who lights a candle for some forgotten fighter buried under swollen earth, too poor even for a memorial.

What does it matter to which side they belonged?

They paid the price, we didn't. They shed the tears, we didn't.

Let us then wish, nay, that's not enough, let us pray, to all the Gods in creation for "The way it used to be" to return.

Or... let us be silent. We owe that much to those who died nameless

goatherd

twilight

"As nightfall does not come at once, neither does oppression. In both instances, there's a twilight where everything remains seemingly unchanged, and it is in such twilight that we must be aware of change in the air, however slight, lest we become unwitting victims of the darkness."
- William O'Douglas

The game is afoot

The game is afoot!

Feeling extraordinarily alive at the moment. We are on a search for old, forgotten Tamil literature to publish again, to rejuvenate real literacy and cultural connectedness among the children of today! It's truly surprising how Tamil children in Sri Lanka have no idea of their cultural or historical heritage. Some say that it is because of the Burning of the Jaffna Library (akin to the destruction of the Alexandria Library) and that it erased a nation's consciousness, never to be revived since the new Tamil Marxist-Fascist ideology turns away from religion and culture on the basis that it is divisive . The old library had ancient scripts that were written on ola leaves amongst other rarities and was burnt in the Siege of Jaffna (Eelam War 2 I think). It reminds me of a quote from Ondaatje in the English patient that "libraries burn" and Heinrich Heine's "Wherever they burn books, they will also, in the end, burn human beings".

Anyhow, since then, (and also due to what some say is the lesser emphasis placed by the government curriculum on Tamil medium literature) the poems, folklore etc have been dying out. And a Sinhalese colleague and I are on a mission, as part of our NGO's programs to discover these lost treasures and publish them! Now this is the sort of work I love and which I shall dedicate myself to in my remaining 5o days. And maybe it is a labour of love by us to a nation too, an act of piety by him as he said.

First came calls to my father's generation and conversations on the poems of their day. I was lectured on the Tolkaapiyam, the Cilampathirakam, how Kannagi burnt the city of Madurai in her rage at her lost lover, how Rama was an incarnation of Vishnu who also turned up on the battlefield of the Kurukshetra to deliver the Bhagavad Gita to a lost Arjun. Then came the homilies and the proverbs and the poetry of the Indian Tamil freedo-fighters for independence against the British like Bharathiyar. Then after that, came the Ceylonese pulavars (poets) one, who was the first to translate the Bible into Tamil and the others who more recently have expressed the collective desire for a free nation.

We started off the physical search by prowling Wellawatte Tamil bookshops, holes-in-the-wall with 70 year old proprietors turning crisp under the sun. They in turn led us to old translators (where I made the astonishing discovery that Marquez's works like Love in the Time of Cholera and One Hundred Years of Solitude are translated into Tamil and Sinhala and enjoy a wide readership here! How surprising!).

Who led us to one in particular, who had studied under some famous Tamil professors and knew of a man called "Google Krishnaswamy" who had apparently the second largest collection of Tamil literature in the Island after the Jaffna Library. Once, as the story goes, Queen Elizabeth herself requested an old biography of an Englishman from Ceylon and the government scoured the island and only Google Krishnaswamy had it and he was able to "fish it out of his recollection" (verbatim from the translator) where the book was in his massive, uncatalogued collection and send it to her and she replied with a note of thanks!. (Hence the nickname 'Google' Isn't it funny how the old and the new meld and even amongst non-Anglophones google thrives).

He died six months ago and his collection passed to his daughter who is rumoured to live in Wellawatte and now we will lie in wait for the Postman of Wellawatte who makes his rounds before 8am in the morning as he is the only one who knows in the neighbourhood where this Daughter of Google Krishnaswamy might live. We have also sent moles, old translators invigorated by such a cause, to loiter the streets of Wellawatte and accost random individuals to see whether they know where she lives. And this is how the lost memories of a nation, are found, rediscovered.

argh

I need my head examined. Sometimes, frequently I think, I'm such a disaster when it comes to people that I'm really better off not going there at all. Sometimes I commit the most diabolical swerves off the trodden path that I just need my head examined.

Nevertheless. The interviews are continuing and I have met a large and interesting cross-section of Sri Lankan society. I was told today that I am too young to be making these decisions, by a candidate nonetheless! I was also told that we need to work in the plantation sector because the people there are slaves and don't know anything beyond a teabush! I was also told that by one candidate that he is a member of the fan club of the current Miss Sri Lanka. I was , in short, told a bewildering array of very bizarre pieces of information by people who are LOOKING for a JOB for Chrissakes!

Jesus. And I can't get my computer to vomit out the CD drive so I'm ANNOYED.And I have like the GMAT and stuff to prepare for which is NOT going well. Arrghgh. SOMEBODY KILL ME NOW. Actually a lobotomy will do just fine.

Finishing reading "A Cause Untrue" by David Blacker, a Sri Lankan thriller about the Sinhalese Special Forces and the Tamil Tigers. All I can say, is that the sex scenes are pretty decent.

jag

Lucy Kellaway writes about being asked “Are you alright” by a colleague and to her horror bursting into tears immediately. It brings to mind a very pathetic episode by yours truly at MS, when I was so tired and stressed at work, that the moment I was to have a meeting with a superior, and she asked me “what’s wrong” and I started crying! It was in her office and no one else was there but still. It was most unprofessional, but she was a good British sort, a Hildabeast (literally from St Hilda’s at Oxford) and had seen it all and she said “there, there, have a good cry then”. So I cried for a little more and then blew my nose on her handkerchief and on we went as though nothing had happened. It was most illustrious of what a good manager should be like, at least for me and I have never forgotten her magnanimity since.

enough

Enough. If I am to be alone, then so be it. It would not be right to get married out of fear, which is the option I have been thinking about. I would make two people unhappy. And no doubt the right person will come along for him, if not for me. But better to be alone, than to be married out of fear. And so, I shall concentrate on what I shall do, for even if nothing else will exist, then at least I shall have that.