‘I am sinner, I am saint’

I went to sleep with the sound of the rain and got up to the prelude of another. The occasional birdsongs were sunk in the patter of raindrops against my window. Life has changed so much that rather than making paper boats out of anything that was within my grasp as I used to, I sit crossed-leg on the bed and read Kamala Das’ poetry-to gain entry to a world that was soaked by many rains, seared by many droughts but survived every bit of it.

Even after writing so much of poetry I kept wondering how she could sketch her entire life in one poem, which begins with ‘I don’t know politics’ where she goes on to say, how she was being looked down upon by society for being born a woman. It is a call of a woman who was so brave to break the mould she was being brought up to fit in.

She narrates her triumphs, her strife and and finally she has a story to tell. The penultimate line of her poem , ‘.I have no joys that are not yours, no aches which are not yours,’ makes one feel that the story she tells is not only her story; but that of everyone of us.

Like Kamala Das, there may be many  who could swim against the tide and reach the destinations that were in their minds, rather than landing on the shores where the tide was to take them. it is this bravery, the stubbornness, and the belief that you are on the right route, that make one go against what society dictates and conventions demand.

After the initial stage of pain and agony, you gain the maturity to look at those who  pull the carpet beneath your feet , with an expression of amusement. You will let people envy you without enlarging your ego. You will not bloat as a frog in a summer pond, for your journey has been one of substance. Troubles will season your story. The harder the life you lived, more rhythmic your poem will be. The longer had been your toil, more moving your plot will be.

Kamala Das says ‘I speak three languages, write in two and dream in one.’ It is this language that keeps talking to your inner self, when all the outside talks try to discourage you. your dreams, your deepest desires and your ultimate goals are written in this language, which sometimes does not have words. Das in her poem  ‘An introduction,’ introduces not only herself but many others who fit her description.

When I read it over and over again, I felt that each line has a different voice, written with a different emotion, looks at a different dimension; a slice of human life that is neither black nor white- but a shade of grey. How true when she says, ‘I am sinner, I am saint.’

Home republic

Home…with its noise, messiness and a lot of activity can still be your heaven and haven. Specially, if you are busy person who rarely get to spend some time at home, the yearning to know your pillow and blanket better is ever so tempting. As times  go by, when classes or work keep you away from home even on holidays, and when you can’t remember the last time you saw the morning sun rays falling over your dressing table, it is probably because you are not giving yourself enough time to breathe.

Take a break and sleep till late. Wake up only when the newspaper headlines are being read on television. Sit in front of it while enjoying your tea, or better still walk into your garden to sit on the bench you haven’t seen for ages. Get ready for a typical family breakfast you are going to have after Avurudu.

Help your mother with household chores. If she has been washing your clothes all this while-be a good child and offer to wash hers. Hum your favourite song while dusting your way around the trophy cupboards filled with what you and your siblings had won during school time.  Try to remember why those cups are there. Steal into your father’s library and try to renew ties with the books you used to flirt with. Get lost in the fictional dreamlands and find your way back to reality-newly smitten by your childhood heroes.

Stroll into the garden and listen to the birds and squirrels singing in harmony. Walk around to see if the jambu or guava trees have borne any fruits. Indulge yourself in seasonal treats that rarely come your way. Open all the windows in your bedroom to let in as much sunlight as you can. Let it fall over your fancy perfume bottles and make dancing lights on the mirror. For a moment, thinking of nothing; at least nothing about what awaits you at the end of the weekend.

Take a long shower. Your hair needs that time underwater. Your skin needs to know how it feels like to be relaxed and refreshed. Most of all, you need to know that time can in fact wait for you once in a way.

Enjoy lunchtime political conversations with your father and let your mother intervene with the delicious caramel pudding you have made specially for him. Relish in the expression on the faces of your parents and siblings when they gulp down your delicacy.

Try reading the weekend papers; and fall asleep on the mound of news if you can’t avoid it. Drive your family down to Galle Face or Parliament grounds to watch the sunset. It is totally justifiable to fall for prawn vaddai and tapioca chips.  Seal your day with a take out dinner. And rejoice over the fact that you have a family to see you through the high’s and low’s in life, to tolerate your mood swings and to make you feel loved and wanted.

Sometimes, there isn’t anything that can’t wait while you dust your roots.

The child in me…

It feels like yesterday, when I had been the bridesmaid at her wedding. The blue and white orchids, a sleepless night that saw us ending up in front of a beauty salon mirror and a photo shoot at the busy Mount Lavinia beach are still very much fresh in my memory. Her wedding is a vivid memory as I had seen her in the white school uniform with her long hair plaited into two. She would let Nangi and me pick pocket money from her bag and run to cafeteria too often. It was her last year at school and soon she became a no-nonsense teacher.  Our routes became distant, but she never stopped being the caring ‘Chooti Akka’ she always was.

This was the filmstrip that was playing in my head when I saw her four-month old son, whom I was seeing for the first time. Her serenity as a mother overwhelmed me. And the little one only looked too happy to finally see the bridesmaid who stands next to his mother in the wedding photo, or so I thought for he looked at me with eager eyes when I was talking nonsense and gurgled and smiled at me when I held his tiny hand from going to his mouth.

On my way back home, I kept wondering how much she has grown up and in the process, and unbeknown to me, I have grown up too. It is quite amazing that you notice how other people change almost effortlessly but rarely your own changes, unless they prick you in the eye. When I kept looking at the little one it was not the same me who was gazing at the seeni sambol sandwiches in Chooti Akka’s lunch box so many years ago. The house too has changed; there is a huge fish tank where her organ had been. The walls have brighter colours.

Our lives will never give us another chance to be kids again, for she is a mother of a kid already. The school holidays when we ate Amberella- achcharu off the same plate or broke into the kitchen to hunt for the jar of salted tamarind are stories to reminisce in the days to come. The road on which we used to play badminton, has been widened and frequented by many vehicles now. We know our school van is not among them.

The final look at the mother and son gave me this picture of her reading to him off a book of Russian fairytales on a boring evening, with her very own voice variations for Babayaga and Karalevich like she once did with Nangi and me. The thought made me want to be away from the endless hassles of work, studies and far from the world of double-faced people-just there on the wicker chair next to her on a boring August afternoon, listening to her with my eyes, mouth and ears wide open. 

Live for all seasons

For you and I, under the Colombo sun, everyday is either spring or summer and every night has at least one slice of moon and a heap of stars to adorn the sky. Living is a joy that has to be shared, expanded and grown like the plants your mother grows that bore roses. ‘Life is beautiful ‘ may be a saying that had grown hackneyed with over quoting; yet one cannot dismiss its meaning that easily.

Life is beautiful when one comes to learn its ripples and torrents. Slopes, waterfalls, shallow waters and storms all make the world what it is. Everything is essential to the continuity of life on it. Likewise, troubles, tribulations, conflicts, praises, encouragements and  appreciations you face and receive, shape your life to what it is. They may not come in measured                quantities at the times you expect them. Uncertainly is a beautiful thing that makes you love the life you are living. This makes you respect your life, look after yourself and do good to the world because you know you are not going to live forever.

Life is beautiful when one knows his/her strengths. You may envy a painter for his swift brush strokes, or envy a ballerina for her balance. But envy cannot make you a painter or a ballerina; there is a lot more to it. Just because your name is not on billboards or magazines, that  does not mean you are a nobody. Every time you envy somebody, tell yourself that there must be someone out there who envies you for your creativity and strength of character.

Life is beautiful when you have right company. Relationships make our lives worth living. Choose your friends wisely. If they hurt you or try to exceed you, do not give them forever to grow up. Walking out of these circles is better than falling prey to a bunch of opportunists. Love your friends who are genuine; treasure their friendships and stand up for them even if you can see through them.

Life is beautiful when you are being loved. Go ahead and fall in love. Shed your defences and learn to trust. Mix each others’ lifestyles which will take the monotony out of your life. Get lost in the woods, enjoy the sea breeze and watch a really soapy movie to see who is going to cry first. Be childish once in a way. And go crazy when times allows you.

Life is beautiful if you know the art of living. Simply go on living without pre-conceived notions about people and places until you see or experience them yourself. Believe in the fact that every case has an exception, so it is not a wise thing to do when you theorize things according to the past. Even with your bad reading habits, a nose that you think is too big for your face and hellish temper, be yourself.

Never too old to start

Life, even with its ups and downs, will settle into a usual rhythm. You will not enjoy the sunshine outside if your inside world is flooded with dissatisfaction and disappointment. You might complain to yourself continuously that world is full of unfair changes. This unfairness, you will only remember when you are in the middle of the whirlwind of change. Perhaps you may decide to be a spectator instead of a fighter in fear of getting into trouble.  Taking the change in the stride or changing its shape to suit you is entirely your choice.

Don’t be scared to change your attitudes and opinions, even if this means changing your entire outlook to life. The change comes with the experience and the difficulties you have gone through in life. It is perfectly normal to dislike someone whom you have respected all this while. It is perfectly alright to look up to someone whom, you all this while, took to a villain. Don’t be scared when you are able to see through the people whom you thought had superior judgment and strength to thrive in hard times. It is not the discovery of the century, when you can see the stupid mistakes they continue to make while ignoring the outcry. The transparency of their characters is not a result of a new disease. Only you have begun to see things more clearly. But, this does not mean you have the super power to enforce your opinion on the others around you.

Never hesitate to admit the fact that you were not the best judge of characters. Being deceived, let down, trampled and abandoned by those whom you trusted most will only teach you not to place absolute trust in anyone; because nor human being is absolutely perfect.

Have no strings attached to your worktable. Ethics might demand you to be married to the mound of files on your desk or the heap of spreadsheets and project proposals in your computer. The truth is that a file can go from one hand to another, and even if you see that it is not being handled the way it ought to have been done, it doesn’t fall within your line of duty to instruct or authorize the proceedings.

A world awaits you beyond your cubicle walls. If you shut the office doors against its beauties, you are a fool. If you are one of those people who take office- trash home, it is high time you have bigger dustbins near the work exit to avoid littering in your world of tranquility.

You deserve your share of sunshine and it is nobody’s business but yours to lift your face to the sun. Just remember, sometimes even a chocolate-taster can get sick of his job! And you are never too old to start all over again.