24 February 2009
Although the elephant in the room is most often ignored, the conversation is very much a necessity.
It was just yesterday that I let bigotry take the better of me and argued that the so called discrimination of Tamils , is nothing but a delusion. Well, yes and no, 24 hours later I have concluded.
Without knowing, or for that matter, at least without trying to find out what the actual predicament is , I guess no one has the right to dispute the fact. Likewise, nor do I agree on one’s bleating theory based on , something that happened to fall in your ear from somewhere.
Statements chanted long enough become theories and theories repeated long enough become facts. And this,( though itself a theory) is a dangerous trend.
Then later in the evening I heard about the visit to the Anuradahapura hospital. Of the cries of twinge and of the long queue of stretchers, wheelchairs carrying young victims , lined up at the operating theater , which could handle only two patients at any given time. One can not help but ponder , the cost of this war. A generation of amputees ? (or Return on investment in business terms?…that I guess is another story altogether.)
I am sure in a decade or so , when we turn back and look at this punctuation in time we would surely ask ourselves the question was it really worth it? The answer …you tell me
Then she tells me of the old nurse at A’pura hospital, who asked “how CAN we go back home, these boys are like our sons?”. Through the glum reality it dawns , we still are the gentle beings we were . It is just that we let circumstances prevent us from being who we are.
21 February 2009
While I wait for the sun to rise over the island’s shoulder, spilling the golden rays over the mountainascape , making the clouds blush in mellow pink light, I gaze through the pane and reflect on these tiny glimmers.
Each one representing a few hundred square feet of living space. Living space.
Brimmed with smiles , tears , laughter , grief , doubt, and the smell of soup/ chicken curry on the stove.
Old men praying before they start their morning walk. Fathers watching Bloomberg news, cursing the plunging Dow Jones . Mothers ironing, lovers snuggling closer to cherish the last few hours of slumber. People from distant lands watching from the bedroom window the distant flickering of an A380 leaving Chep lap kok airport and feeling a tad homesick . Missing their real other homes. Grandmothers taking their morning dose of medicine . Two tablets. One yellow, one white. Couples thinking of the first words to say after the big fight last evening. Damsels thinking of meeting their boyfriends at the MTR station in the morning……………………
I lull over the many varied ways how each light , on , could be , might be , must be, representing life going on within.
Maybe it is not like that. Maybe I am just extending the familiarity too far-flung and oversimplifying things. But hey, it is my musing ..and ..
For the few hours until it dawns and spoil everything. Before the glass off the office towers are set ablaze.
When doors are locked from outside and people leave their nests for the day.
It seems there is life in them pigeon holes .
19 February 2009
15 February 2009
14 February 2009
Numero Uno, is from Aravind Adigar's book "the white tiger", where he goes to introduce the most infrequent animal in the jungle . But capture , and it looses the stripes .
The inspector pointed his cane straight at me " You , young man , are an intelligent , honest , vivacious fellow in this crowd of thugs and idiots . In any jungle , what is the rarest of animals – the creature that comes along only once in a generation . "
I thought about it and said " The white tiger"
"That's what you are , in this jungle"……….
From the "White Tiger" – Aravind Adagar
The next is from a song by the much hyped band -Killers . Who seem to be saying the importance of living free.
Run neon tiger there's a lot on your mind
They promised just to pet you, but don't you let 'em get you
Away, away, oh one
Under the heat of the southwest sun
You took to the spotlight like a diamond ring
They came from the woodwork in the hopes they might
Redeem themselves for poor decisions to win big
Run neon tiger there's a lot on your mind
They'll strategize and name you, but don't you let them tame you
You're far too pure and bold
To suffer the strain of the hangman's hold.
Neon tiger- Killers
And the third is a Sri Lankan folk tale about a man who held on to a tiger's tail and could not let it go. How the capturer himself became entrapped.
The full circle.
08 February 2009
As many a marketeer would enlighten you, every product , every concept , eventually, lapses it's shelf life. Forcing one to replace , upgrade or make the kill.
War is a Cash cow, so is , the hope of peace (shorter shelf life though).
As long as the demand subsists , It sells.
Kings , marketeers, song writers would develop different models of the same ideology. With the same patriotic foot note. Of the utopian days to come . They would put it on the shelves and with correct marketing, you would create a sufficing demand, and it would sell.
War it self is an abstraction you buy in to .
But the a necessary evil of this game is , you having to choose a side. And it necessarily doesn't mean that it is the ideal. But rules are rules are rules.
Patriots , who gather beyond shores, will consume patriotism fried , devilled & garlic picked, with Chardonnay & merlot to go.
Even the devil's advocates , would make a few shillings, yelling of the vices .
But those "human shield" people ? Did they cheer the wrong team? Were they people who were stuck in the wrong stand? Or are they just an unnecessary hindrance to the game ?
Somebody once told me "There are more people living off a war than dying from it"……………………….
Today our paths crossed again, and he said
"It is all in the packaging"……………………..