Changing Worlds

You were small
Your world was tiny
I was your world
I wished to remain there as long as I could.

You grew up.
Your world changed.
I became a spec in your large world.

I watched you grow.
And wished to remain a spec
That you could return to
In times of need.

Years have passed by.
Sure I am a spec to
You do come to.
Now my world is you.
---
Whom am I saying this to
Who is saying this to me?

Changing Music

I wandered.

And I wondered Why.

The implausible rhythm of the beat –

Of thoughts. In unison.

The discordant notes were muted

By the inexorable passage of time.

But alas! The strings remain the same

The chords unchanged.

Only the music has changed.

And the tone.

When did the Clock Tick?

It feels like yesterday.

It was raining. The torrential monsoon came ripping through the clouds splattering on the earth with a rhythmic thud. I ran to check whether my jak leaf was still intact. I had placed the leaf over that small mount of earth under which that soil bug had hidden itself. ‘That soil bug.’ Actually, I don’t know its name. We call it Kuzhiyaana – which literally translates to ‘elephant in the pit’. And for all I know, I believed that it really was an elephant, relegated to live under the soil, due to its stunted growth!

Our little minds yearned to protect the Kuzhiyaana, lest it will die in the rain! Jak leaf was the make shift shelter to protect those ‘baby elephants.’

We used to take bets, incessantly, insanely, as to which pit will have the elephant inside. Needed precision to the T, speculation, inspection, earthiness and what not! The more the number of elephants collected, greater the hero one became -to draw a comparison – like a successful stock broker! We kept those fellows in the middle of our crouched small palm, and put them back on to the soil – to watch them dig into the earth and vanish in no time. Only the mount remained.

Coconut leaf was the best one could get hold of to play with during vacation! Now, it was just the raw material out of which came a whole gamut of products – wrist watch, snake, clarinet, spectacles, spoons, stars, parrots, wind mills, necklaces, shapes of crackers and the lot. How to fell a coconut leaf was the greatest problem we had to solve. Any other form of toy was unheard of. If a parent returned from ‘foreign’ the girl will bring something to show off in the class. And the rest would go ga gag a. Those fanciful girly toys were right out of our dream world and something we would let our fancy take over and dream about until the next exams were round the corner.

Getting married was a great mystery to solve. Watching umpteen numbers of weddings in the family, one soon wanted to mimic the act of getting married. The make- up, the jewellery, the feast! For me the most gorgeous act in the whole ritual was the exchange of garlands! Man! That was the most incredible thing I so hopelessly wanted to put around my neck – snatch it from the couple, put around my neck and take a picture! It had a nice shiny, glossy cover to protect the flowers. Well, talking of late 70s!

So, my playmate and I (she was a few years older to me) decided to get married. The ritual was only to exchange garlands. My penchant for garlands she understood probably. We were about to get ‘married.’ Then came the anticlimax. Her worldly-wise attitude and the comparative advantage due to sheer seniority by two years, brought out the crudest truth. “When we exchange garlands, you get pregnant.” Now, the last thing we wanted the public to know was that we got ‘married’ and one is pregnant due to the infallible, irreversible act of exchange of garlands. ! Sacrilege it would mean and shame on families – we thought. Even in our small minds, we did not want to bring ignominy to our families! I must have been about 6 years, and she, about 8 years! So we postponed getting married at that time.

And it never happened between us, until many years later, I realised the heaviness of that garland around my neck and my life to follow.

Treasure seek was the next best alternative to coconut leaves. Had a bizarre hobby of collecting stones of jewellery –fallen, found, thrown away, etc. This was a girl’s thing. At one time I had over 50 small sized stones in my collection! Those were most secretly kept, wrapped in 4-5 small coloured sheets of paper and hidden under the clothes, and only shared with whoever mattered, on a ‘need-to-know' basis. They meant treasure, you know!?

The book exhibition at the primary school was the annual event that I so enthusiastically looked forward to. All kinds of books – that open with music inside, and shapes popping out etc. It meant the world for me to steer through the collection and finally make an informed choice as to which one I wanted to own! Believe me, I still have those, and treasure them ... my priced possessions...

Once in a while, a break from chores meant, visiting an uncle who just lived 3 km away or even less with a kilo of red grapes (well, grapes aren't red really, we were colour- blind in childhood)! Holidays were unheard of!

Mostly spent my early childhood thinking that my mother is probably Hitler Incarnate, only to learn years later that she is the best thing that EVER happened to me...and that for all children at one time, their Mothers are Hitlers in Manifest.

Tooth extractions were the most horrendous things I did ; at home... string and pull....let me not get there!

I lived in a small world. Now looking back, its smallness was also its largeness and richness. Growing up did not seem fast enough... The green and white of the school uniform was the most prized identity. The national anthem was the most soulful music.

I lived in a world, where I hardly knew what it meant to be different.

And now, live in a world, which only shows me the difference.

When did the clock tick away so fast?

The read and the heard - Tidbits

My space had been empty for a while - bereft of sharing thoughts and pouring of sense and sensibilities. Just had been overwhelmed by things-to-do of all sorts.

A lot happened in the world the past few weeks - America got his most wanted man - Bin Laden - in a covert operation, which surpassed any Hollywood espionage thriller. Phew!

Did the world stand speechless by the flawless operation for a while?

But sure, reactions started pouring in from many quarters. The why and why nots are yet debated, discussed...

In Sri Lanka, the operation became the talk of the town in light of the UN panel report, on alleged war crimes both by the Tamil Tigers and the Government. The right and the wrong of the report will be discussed at the highest echelons of power in world politics for a while; the 'for and against' dynamics is playing hard and it is interesting to note the process fold and unfold.

Am not getting into the debate over it, in this space; but the parallel drawn by folks in the capital was notable - The American president becomes a hero after hunting down the most wanted man for nearly 10 years; The Sri Lankan President becomes a war criminal for hunting down the most wanted man for many more years than 10 ! . The former got the 'man' by a covert operation in some one else's country; the latter fought a battle in his own. Well, a lot of food for thought here...eh?

Pakistan is still figuring out 'the how' - we are told by the newspapers...

Hot on the heels of Bin Laden's clean disappearance from mother earth, Manmohan Singh went to Afghanistan on a two-day visit, pledged 500 million USD as development aid. While quizzed by the media whether India will adopt the same strategy for getting their most wanted - he had apparently said " We are not US" - the news papers I read, said. Well, interesting to note these comments by the biggies and how later they shape policies... if at all.

The euphoria of the US operation still lingers on ...

India's most awaited parliamentary election results came out. The southern politics has shifted sides. West Bengal too. The most interesting person I listen to of Kerala politics is my mother. Some times, my long distance calls cannot sustain her political austerity and I feel bad winding up; wondering whether I will inherit her same spirit in old age - that is if I get there! She is full of her post-election analysis... which I carefully listened to this morning. My mother - never ceases to surprise me; and always has some spirit to infuse, amidst all her eccentricities!

Thus the world made many headlines - the time I was alien to my blogspot. As many more events happened, I was caught in the ordinariness of time and space; the mundane and the inevitable; crowded by deadlines and nearly falling dead after crossing them...

Did not see the garden or the Bee in detail closely, though I always knew they will always be there, when I stop to see and breathe in the scent of the flower.

The River, the Hills, and the Temple….

Bee,

The day was all about white-water rafting, cannoning and hiking. Phew! For one whole day, was drenched in water, head to toes, literally – with water spitting out of the sneakers! Yucky feeling after a while; but it was all about a bit of adventure, a lot of fun, and an interlude of leech bite.

The setting is Kitulgala – in the Western part of Sri Lanka, which is a wet rain forest area, by the famous river Kelani. Famous for its relentless rains and the water adventure sport, the place is also famous as the 1957 World War II movie, “The Bridge on the River Kwai” was shot here. The ruins of the bridge that was exploded for the shooting still remain as a living memory and a great allure.

Unfortunately, could not capture any picture, as part of the day was spent on rafting; in the river; in the thick of its rapids and the latter part for cannoning. Didn’t we enjoy the rapids! It was all rowing and going over the freaky rapids (only two were quite strong). After that we were told to jump into the river and swim. Dreadful of drowning (!) I re-checked the life jacket and the head gear and jumped right in – Believe me, though it was scorching sun outside, the water was icy cold!

What true fun it was!

Rafting was becoming more than satisfactory; perfunctory. After lunch, the momentum to ‘do things with a vengeance’ faded; sleep was hitting hard, though all of us were near shivering from the wet, river-water soaked clothes!

But sure we went for cannoning and trekking; after listening to the chief guide, I was wondering how on earth I was going to make all those leaps from the heights and body raft through slippery rocks! The trick is, you go up there and start contemplating ‘to be or not to be’ you are doomed. Take the plunge and just leap as if no care in the world, your thud will make such a ripple that you feel proud of J- Having said that, I just did not do the last two – one to be more specific. Went up there and started contemplating too hard ‘Can I , can I not! Should I, should I not!’ – and there I went into ‘why- prove- a point mode’ and turned back, when I saw the child next to me made a loud announcement of his rare feat and took his 10th leap! These kids I tell you!

The design for the evening was the best template for relaxing. Open space facing the river, floor cushions, nice music, drinks – reading, browsing the internet, playing scrabble. And a nice dinner.

The best part was camping in the night. Those tents were pucca warm inside. By the side of the river – listening to its rumble, tumble, and mumble – a night was spent with just the chimney lamp outside the tent and crickets chirping to make the only living sound in the entire vicinity.

Realised that Nokia Basic phone BL 5CB has a reasonably good torch. Aide de camp!

When the sun came splitting through the slightly torn piece of the tent (thanks to the kids for opening it up too hard!), the wilderness of the surrounding just became explicit. Loved every bit of the wilderness – the wanton thoughts that perfected them, the rough and the tough of the wild, lack of order and the wet air, feet and the earth…

We were served milk rice (auspicious meal) to mark the Sinhala and the Tamil New Year – which is the annual shut down for Sri Lanka. Basically everything comes to a halt and people wait for the auspicious time to cook, eat and start new work. Well, these rituals are religiously followed.

With the lingering thought of the wild nature, left for the hills – the Little England- Nuwara Eliya. This is the haven for Colombo-ites during the cruel summer. And for me, from a wild camping night, it was straight to the blankets!

The town is famous for its narrow roads and colonial buildings. The city was in the mirth of the New Year Celebrations. There was vigor in the air. Happiness all around. Festivity. Hope for a better year ahead.

The night was spent under two blankets, a pair of socks; two things on top and two slacks. Not kidding, really!

The decision to brave the winding roads and keep away from the avomine tablet was carried out with grit! All what avomine does is to put you sleep. And you wake with a hangover like the one you get after mixing the drinks – two shots of mojito, gin and vodka. Grrr.

We visited the Kogala gardens. A vibrant splash of colours!

We drove through the breathtaking hilly stations, at 50 km per hour; enjoying, feeling, living, every bit of the green that was on the way. The old Hindi songs which were played in the car were the just the icing on the cake.

Drove through the cultural capital – Kandy ; visited the Temple of the Tooth Relic. The Temple is a repository of history, culture and faith. It houses the relic of the tooth of the Buddha. There is a benumbing sanctity in its premises.

Was visiting the Temple after a while – and took a closer look at the wooden architecture. The similarity with Kerala temple architecture was so striking.

Where ever I travel here, I see a bit of Kerala, which re-affirms my notion that Sri Lanka is just another Kerala outside India. In India, you never find another Kerala – not to mention the fact that you could feel a total foreigner or stranger, even when you visit the neighboring State, though there is a bizarre sense of common thread that helps you get by.

A nice break and change of scene from the Colombo buzz came to a close when we hit home at sharp 7 p.m.

Look forward to the next…may be Kitulgala again!?

A thread of the Epic: Sita Eliya

History was taught in school as dates and years – when a king was born, or vanquished; when he went to annex the next country/ continent or stole the king’s wife! My sense of history has surpassed the dates and years (may be ageing!). In school, The Independence Struggle translated to a different form of struggle for the students as those who set the question papers had a penchant for ‘mutliple choice’ ‘objective type’ questions that centered around years, which looked all alike in the heat of the examination hours!

Thankfully in my high school there was an affectionate teacher – Remani – who is still a mother-like figure to me, who gave the first glimpse of ‘after all history is not all that bad.” She taught the years, but also explained things as if a story. Now, history and pre-history remain a learning of incidents, stories, the outcome and the aftermath – and how they repeat themselves, through communities, countries and modern day conflicts – that is ethnic, political etc. Fairly late in life I realized, history also meant evolution of civilizations, societies, culture, traditions and is different to the manic obsession of years (of incidents) which I was forced to maintain through school days. (Afterthought: I like to think that the education system has changed a bit, at least…)

Such a preface to what I am going to write about an epical episode which involves two countries – Alas! India and Sri Lanka.

Ramayana, ascribed to the first poet in India Saint Valmiki, is supposedly written between 5-4th^th century BC. Though one of the greatest epics of Hinduism, it involves India and Sri Lanka (Lanka Puri as it is written) – where the Demon King Ravana had abducted Sita and kept her captive in a forest. Later on she was rescued by Rama. ( I need to say here, this is the Valmiki /Indian version).

The Indo-Sri Lankan that I am, had often been the punch bag due to an epic, especially in the light of emerging Indo-Sri Lankan relations! Ahem! All in good fun.

My friend John, whose love of life is International Relations (not to mention he is a retired, revered former diplomat) always had a Sri Lankan twist to Ramayana – which was – “Sita was ill treated by Rama and she sent a message to Ravana to take her. And he did and treated her with all respect and accorded all protocol...”(not like these days where a bunch of Sri Lankan ministers had to apparently stand in the queue to purchase tickets for the cricket world cup final match in India and the Sri Lankan High Commissioner maintained the stand that full protocol was followed!).

John’s story continues… “And when Sita was refusing to get back, Rama sent the Monkey King Hanuman – the first IPKF (Indian Peace Keeping Force – which has a distasteful connotation among the general public, I repeat the ‘general public’ of Sri Lanka after the Indo-Sri Lanka Accord in 1987; more on this later). The Monkey King wreaked havoc by burning the countryside with his tail lamp! Finally, Sita had to leave though she did not want to.”

Though the ‘twist’ was mainly given by John to ‘fire me up’ I, in fact enjoyed the new version. In India, every story has many versions, interpretations and perspectives. Thus his attempt to urge me for a fight always failed.

Jokes apart.

In fact, the epic has many versions in South Asia. Even in India. And one of them even mentions that Ravana was the father of Sita – born out of an aborigine during one of his youthful haunts. In fact this version I had found as very moving, as a reader.

Whether Rama or Ravana existed – or whether the controversial (prehistorical) bridge existed between India and Sri Lanka – the myth sure exists. In Sri Lanka, there is a temple called Sita Eliya (Eliya, in Sinhala means ‘light’), where Sita is supposed to have been kept by Ravana, after he abducted her. A few kilometers away from the town called Nuwara Eliya (meaning city of light), famous for its cool weather, hilly terrain, winding roads, etc. one can find this temple –a thread in the Indo-Sri Lankan relations. There are two temples, one is supposed to be 5000 years old and the other, built recently (forget when exactly). The temple is bang on the side of the road; but from the other side, it is on the banks of a stream.

Valmiki, gives a very elaborate description of the lush Ashoka Forest, the moon lit nights and Sita’s anguish, loneliness, fear and humiliation. The only picture of the Ashoka Forest coming live in my mind as a child was in the long, serialized version on Television by Ramanada Sagar in 1987-88 period. Actress Deepika acted as Sita and Arun Govil acted as Ram (and later they were worshipped on the streets – well, that is also India!).

Sita Eliya is far different from Valmiki’s description. ‘Ravana is supposed to have been ruling somewhere close by’ a visitor in the temple remarked.

But interestingly, this is the only Sita Temple in the world. The temple also worships Rama and Hanuman. In fact, I happened to speak to an old Sinhalese lady who explained her understanding of the epic, which was Valkmiki Ramayana. She believed that it was not just a story, but real.

The fact that a myth can still hold its way through since 5^th century BC, does make one think, that myths have always, and will still continue to fascinate mankind. I felt this way while doing my circle around the temple. Yes, myths have their own beauty; they at times seem real though they are surreal.

An Indo-Sri Lankan.