Appachchi

The song starts with a slow drum beat  and a  long “appachchi” . Stretched enough to capture in the length , breath and the tone , the love , the awe , the affection and thousand other feelings one would have when addressing , thinking about one’s father. (May be I am wrong , but the two syllable “dad” does not quite cut it for me). 

While the whole song was brilliant . Four lines from the lyrics stood up for me , and below them mind flashes that lit in my head.




ඒ ගිනි ගෙන අපේ උණුහුම සාදවා - Soaking up the heat to give warmth 

Picture a man, who has toiled the day .
Maybe a man who works for for day’s pay . Yes picture such a man.
Him coming home after work with  a ton of problems and mere handful of cash to sort it all out.
Picture him hugging each of his children at the wooden gate and handing over a few toffees from his top pocket and walking towards the house holding their hands. 




  සද්ද නොකර ලොවේ අරුත කියා දුන්  - In silence he teaches the lessons of life

A father and  son sits in the veranda . The son is newly married , and lives nearby . This evening , unnecessary words were exchanged . The cause and reason of the argument were insignificant as in most arguments. Words were exchanged , emotions flared up, hearts were broken , tears fell a door was slammed loud , and now a lost, (yet still somewhat irate)  man sits in the safest place he knows. The verandah of his childhood home. 

Earlier the mother has whispered
 “ පුතාලා රණ්ඩුවෙලා , අන්න ඇවිල්ලා ඉන්නවා  “ (The children have argued and he is here)
 and the father has  poured a glass of water and come and come and sat at his planters chair.
For  a long half an hour he has sat there silently .
The father has not been much of a talker . He has preferred to resolve issues with silence . 

පුතා  කෑම ටිකක්  කාලා යන්න ඉන්න ”  (Son wait for dinner) a mother tells loud from the kitchen . That is her  instinct to guard her brood over any outsiders , still alive.

At that point the father looks up 
“පුතා ගෙදර යන්න දුව බලාගෙන ඇති බඩගින්නේ ”  “Son you go home , your wife must be waiting for you without eating” 

The young man realizes it is more than a suggestion . It is a command , it is a solution , it is wisdom , and without the earlier period of silence it would not have made that much sense 





අපි වෙනුවෙන් සංසාරේ වන්දනාවේ  නැවතිච්චි- For us he stopped in his pilgrimage of samsara 

“ පුතා කාමරේට යන්න  , මටයි සීයාටයි කතා  කරන්න  තියෙනවා  “
 Son go to the room , I need to talk with Grand pa . 
A mother sends a curious 7 year old away so that she can talk in privacy. 

“ අප්පච්චි මහන වෙන්න ගියාම අපිට මොකද වෙන්නේ ” 
Dad when you become a monk what would happen to us 

“පොඩි දූ  , මම තනියම උඹලව උස මහත් කළා. දැන් මගේ යුතුකම් කරලා ඉවරයි . ඉතින් මට බණක් භාවනාවක් කර ගන්න ඕනේ ."” 
Daughter , I have done my duties . Now it is the time for me to devote time towards spiritual things 

ඉතින් ඔය භාවනා ගෙදර ඉඳන් බැරිද අප්පච්චි ? අනික අප්පච්චි මහන උනාම කෝ මට අප්පච්චි කෙනෙක් 
So can’t you do that at home ?  When you become a monk , I loose my dad  

She knows she sounds like a little girl hanging on her fathers hand . Then that is what she is , her father’s little girl. She feels it is good that  this conversation is over the phone , lest her father would see her tears . 

But ofcourse he sees . And Seeya  knows, he has to stay. 



PS:  May be it is because I am counting down the days for my visit home , this song hit me deep , and cried out to write something 

And here is the link for the song

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9QgOfeGAbwE

රෙද්ද තමයි

එක නෙමෙයි මචං , රනිල් පාර්ලිමෙන්ට් එකේ  ප්රෝටෙස්ට් කරලා , ටයි එක ගලවලා

නෑ..

නෑ මම මේ හිතුවේ , හොඳ වෙලාවට රනිල් ටයි කෝට් අදින්නේ නේ?

ඔව් , හැබැයි  සාටකේ උනත් ගලවන්න පුළුවන්නේ විරෝධත්වය පාලා.

ඔව් හැමෝම දැන් සාටකත් දානවනේ ....හැබැයි එතකොට සාටක නැති අය?

රෙද්ද තමයි

Some Games you can’t play/ බැරි සෙල්ලම්

Kumar closed the youtube window that was popped up in his PC .

The small clip of the heavily spun ball  pitching on the on dust and turning a way in slow motion , repeats  again in his mind.

 “ There is pus rising” he could hear the voice of the Master Blaster .

 What Siri said earlier at lunch  was correct. This fellow should have stopped at  his fastest 50 , fastest century, fastest marriage (or was it two) &  shortest retirement. This commentating business is driving it too far.

The grand old lady of the British monarch has been murdered then and there , the pride of a nation has been shattered by bad pronunciation.

Kumar’s eyes stopped at the photograph on his table , of a younger self holding a soccer ball with his proud father hugging him . Young boy of early teens had a small trophy in his other hand . His only achievement in the sporting arena , player of the game in a U15 interschool match. His  mind travelled a few decades back and stopped at one Thursday  evening . A young boy waiting near the wooden gate  for his father to come from work .

"තාත්ති  ලබන  සතියේ  අපේ  under 13 ටීම්  එකට සිලෙක්ෂන්  තියෙනවා . සර් කිව්වා බැට් එකක් , පෑඩ් නම් කාගෙන් හරි ඉල්ලා ගන්න පුළුවන් , හැබැයි අනිත් ඒවානම් තියෙන්නේ ඕනේ කියලා.  සපත්තු , සුදු කොට කලිසමක් , සුදු ටී ෂර්ට් එකක් , බෝල් ගාර්ඩ් ....තාත්ති අපි සෙනසුරාදා  ගිහිල්ල ගමුද ඒවා ?"
 (Dad, we are having selections for our under 13 Cricket team. Master said we could share the bat and the pads , but we have to have the other equipment. Can we buy them on Saturday?)

Then spread silence , like a drop of ink spreading through a glass of water . Water was never the same .

 He could remember his father looking at his mother and his mother turning her eyes to the ground .

“පුතා මට ලිස්ට් එක දෙන්නකෝ  , මම හෙට Chands එකේ බලන්නම්” 
A helpless father’s attempt to end an uncomfortable conversation .

The next day was long as a day would  get, when a 11 year old boy waits for something .  Kumar was  dreaming of the  future of sixes and fours that were all his.

He did not remember what time his father came or  what he asked .
All what he could remember was his father handing him a soccer ball , stroking his head and saying

“"මට හිතෙන්නේ ලොකුට  වැඩිය ගැලපෙන්නේ  ෆූට්බෝල්  කියලා , ක්‍රිකෙට් වලට වඩා  , අපි  ඊළඟ  සතියේ  සපත්තු  දෙකක්  ගමු ”
(I think Football suits you more than Cricket . Let’s buy the shoes next week)

Then while his whole world went through an eclipse , he faintly remember hearing his parents talking

“මට කාගෙන්වත්  ඉල්ලගන්නත්  බැරි  උනා,  පඩි  වලටත්  තව  දවස්  අටක්  තියෙනවනේ , මේක CWE එකේ තිබ්බ . හැත්තෑ පහයි ” “
(I could not borrow from anybody . Salary is also 8 days away . I bought this at CWE  for seventy five )

“ලොකු ලොකු  ඉස්කෝල වලට යැව්වට ඔය ඔක්කොම සෙල්ලම් කරන්නත් බැනේ . ටික දවසකින් එයාට අමතක වෙයි .  “ ( We can not afford all this . I am sure he will forget in a few days ) 

A wife tried to help the beaten father get over bitter aftertaste the reality of the lower middleclass kicks in one’s within.

Back to the future and Kumar is typing a comment in singlish on the facebook, below the place where the video was  shared .

“ Ane Sana  ana ganniy . bari sellam nokara hitin”  

(Dear Sana , please don’t go to play unknown games)

And he presses share.

මෙන්න වැඩක්

දසන් දක්වා සිනා නොවුණු 

කතා කෙරුවත් , මුහුණ නොබැලු 

රහසින්වත් පෙම් නොකෙරු 

පොඩි මැණිකේ බඩට 

මාස තුනක් ලු

බෝක්කුව ළඟ බීඩි උරපු

තැඹිලි , කෙහෙල් හොරෙන් කපපු

මාස තුනක් හිරේ හිටපු

කනත්ත හන්දියේ පොඩි උක්කුන්, 
මහන වෙලාලු 

අක්කලා නංගිලා සහ අයියලා මල්ලිලා

සිංහල බාසාවේ නංගිලා සිටිති. අක්කලාද සිටිති. අන්නලා සහ තම්බිලා සිටින්නේ දමිල බාසාවේය.
එකී සමහර අක්කලා මැදපෙරදිග නිවෙස්වල ගෘහසේවිකාවන් ලෙස සේවය කරන අතර, නංගිලා රැසක් නිදහස් වෙළෙඳ කලාපයේ   ජුකී මැෂින් සමග ඔට්ටු වෙති.  තවත් නංගිලා අක්කලා පිරිසක් යාල් පානමේ සහ වන්නියේ, සාමයේ ඵල ලැබෙන තෙක්  බලා සිටිති .

කලක් අන්නලා, අම්මාන්ලා, තම්බිලාව පෙරට දමා, දකුණේ අයියලා මල්ලිලා සමග  හරි හරියට වෙඩි  බිඳ  , වෙඩි බෙහෙත් වලට පිළිස්සුන රටක් , මිනි වලවල්  සහ ලෙයින් පෙගුනු පසක් ඉතිරි කලහ.  අවුරුදු  තිහක ඒ කාලකන්නි  සාපය නම් දැන් නිමවී ඇත .

නල්ල කියන්න හොඳ යන අර්ථයෙන්ය. නල්ලතම්බි නම් කළහ නොකර අපිව සිනහ ගන්වා, කටකතාවලට පියාපත් දී දෙහිවල පාලම උඩදී මිය ගියේය .

දැන් නම් නිතර ඇහෙන්න ලැබෙන්නේ, නිළියන්ව අනාචාරයට යොමු කරන අක්කලා ගැනය. චණ්ඩිකමින් පළාත් රන් කරන අයියලා ගැනය. මා ඔවුන් ගැන වැඩිදුර විස්තර ලියන්නට යන්නේ නැත.

කොල්ලන්ට , කෙල්ලෙකු ගැන සිතක් ගිය විට ඇය ඉබේම  "නංගි" වෙයි .  ප්‍රේමය විවාහයක් දක්වා දුරදිග ගොස් දරුවන් දෙතුන්දෙනෙකුට පසුවත්, තම ස්වාමියාට "රංජි අයියා "කියා අමතන්නියක්  මම  දනිමි .
ඒ පරණ පුරුද්දටය. ආදරයටය .

“හතළිහත්  වයසක්ද නංගි ? “ කියා ඇසු 60 වියැති  අනන්ගයෙක් ගැනද කතාවක් මතක් වෙයි.

නමුත් අයෙක්  “මල්ලි  කන  අත  ගා  ගන්න  ඕනේ  ද ” යි අසන්නේනම් ආදරයට නොවේ  

උණක්, හැදී ගෙන එනකොට කොයි කොයි අයියලාටත් කොත්තමල්ලි මතක් වෙයි . ලේසියෙන් මෙවැනි දේ මිලදී ගත නොහැකි රටක සිටින අපි, ගෙදර කොත්තමල්ලි පැකේට් දෙක තුනක් කොහොමත් තබා ගෙන සිටිමු . කොච්චර බෙහෙත් බිව්වත් ඉඟුරු කොත්තමල්ලි එකක් බොනවා වගේ නැත. බිරිඳ කියන්නේ ඒ ගතේ අමාරුවට වඩා සිතේ අමාරුවට බවය.

කෙසේ වෙතත් අයියල මල්ලිලා , අන්නලා, තම්බිලාට රජ වෙන්නට බැරිය.  D.S ගේ සිට, SWRD, JR , රනිල් සියල්ලෝම මහත්තුරුය.  දැන් ඉන්නේ අපේ මහින්ද මහත්තයාය . ප්‍රේමදාස මේ කුලකයට අයිතිවේදැයි  නැත්දැයි මට එතරම් පැහැදිලි නැත .

හැමෝට  'සහෝදරයා" යයි ඇමතු කොල්වින්, පීටර්  , එන් එම් ලාද අයියලා නොවෙති .  මගේ අත්තා නම් කිවේ ඔවුන් දවල්ට සහෝදරයෝය රෑට මහත්වරු කියාය .

 පීඩිත පන්තියේ අරගලයක් කල  කට්ටියක්ද  ඔවුන්ගේ සැබැ නායකයා එක  මහත්තයෙක්ද  නැත්නම් අනික් මහත්තයා දැයි මේ දින වල කතාවෙති . 

සිංහල, දෙමල වගේම බොහෝ ආසියානු සහ මධ්‍යතන පෙරදිග භාෂා වල, අයියලා, මල්ලිලා, අක්කලා, නංගිලා සංකල්පය තිබේ. සාමාන්‍යයෙන් වැඩිමලා ලොකු අයියා වෙන අතර, ඉන් පසු සුදු අයියලා, හෝ හීන් අයියලා පෙළ  ගැසෙති .එනමුදු බටහිර භාෂාවල ඉන්නේ  brothers ලා සහ sisters ලාය .  ඒ එම සංස්කෘතියේ සහෝදර බැඳීම්වල  ස්වභාවය නිසාද නැතිනම් එම සීතල ශුෂ්ක දේශගුණය නිසා  තම පරපුර පවත්වාගෙන යාමට, බොහෝ  දරුවන්  බිහිකීරීමටවූ නිසාදැයි කියා සිතේ . . එක රුසියානු ගැහැනියක් දරුවන් 69 ක් වැදු බව මම අන්තර්ජාලයේ දුටිමි.

නංගි පෙන්වා අක්කා දීග දීම ගැන පරණ කතාවක් ඇත.  

දැනුදු, කඩේකට  ගියත්, ආයතනයක සේවය කලත්, රාජ්‍ය පාලනය ගත්තත්, අන්තර්ජාතික දේශපාලනය ගත්තත්, බොහෝ නෝනලා මහත්වරු කරන්නේ, අපිට නංගි පෙන්වා, අක්කා දීමය  .

Budget 2012- Second reading

Gunapala  dragged a plastic chair to the shade of the Mango tree . Years ago Gunapala  was a temporary cook at an Army camp in Anuradhapura. 

When the war ended, Generals got imprisoned . Brigadiers became diplomats .Majors, Colonels got promoted and temporary cooks were dismissed.   That’s how Gunapala went from a temporary cook to being permanently job less. 

Gunapala collected his cup of plain tea from the Tamil boy who makes tea , and peered over the top edge of  the paper that Amare was reading . He was interested in the news in the inside pages , with pictures.. 

 Amare is a retired teacher , whose good deal of the day, like Gunapala’s, on most days  is whiled away  in the garden of this  tea kiosk cum grocery  .  

“අමරේ අයියේ , ඊයේ බජෙට් එක වෙලාවේ කට්ටිය ගහගෙන නේද? “ 
( Amare , did you see how  the folks fought at the budget reading yesterday)   
Gunapala broke the ice. 

“මේ පත්තරේ තියෙන්නේ පින්තුර "  (The pictures are in the paper) Amarasiri responded. 

“ ටීවී එකෙත් පෙන්නුවා . අපේ ඇමති තුමා ගැහුවා අරුන් හතර පස් දෙනෙකුට "   
( They showed it on the TV. Our minister hit 4 ,5  people) Gune related. 

“ඒ වගේ තැනකවත් හැසිරෙන්න දන්නේ නෑ නේ "   
( They don’t even know how to behave in a place like that ) 

“ඒ උනාට අර යු එන් පි කාරයෝ , අපේ මහින්ද මහත්තය ඉන්නවා කියලවත් බලන්නේ නැතිව හූ කියන්න ගත්තනෙ"
(But the UNP fellows hooted at our Mahinda Mahaththaya) 
Gune tried to justify . 

 “ මේ පත්තරේ තියෙන්නේ , මන්තිරිනියකගේ සාරියෙනුත් ගැලවෙන්න  ඇද්දා කියලා"
( In the paper it says that a lady’s sari was also pulled) , Amare reads over his reading glasses. 

“ෂාහ් ඒක පෙන්නුවේ නෑනේ " ( In vain they did not show that over the TV)  Gune’s tongue beats his mind to it. 

“ අමරේ අය්යේ , මම හිතන්නේ අර ජෝන් බාස්ටනම් හොඳ පාරක් වැදුනා. පත්තරේ නැත්ද කව්ද ගුටි කෑවේ කියලා  ? "
( I think one blow landed on that guy John. Does the paper say about who else got hit) 
Gune was eager to know 

“ගුටි කෑවේ කව්ද කියලා මේ මුල් පිටුවේම තියෙන්නේ "
(Yes the the first page has the details of  who has got hit )   
Amare’s finger stops at  the  big heading in red 
 2012 Budget proposals. 

Then grows a deafning silence . Gune could almost hear somebody hooting at them.   Amare and the boy  watch Gune’s  right hand reach  to his gut , as if to make sure whether a blow has landed there .. 

අලි මදිවට 

අශ්වයෝ 

තාරාවෝ 

ලියවැල්

නුබ , නුඹ

රැයක් දී විලාපා

මුළු රැයක් සුසුම් ලා 

පෙරයමම 

ඉකිගසා 

මෝසම් කඳුලින් තෙමා 

නුබ , නුඹ 

දැන් හිඳී

කිසිවක් නොවුන ගානට 

Three photos I could not take

I aspire to be a good photographer and often think of the perfect shots that I would one day take . And most often when I encounter that great shot , I am caught without a camera at hand to capture it.

Today , where I live, the heavens have parted and their monsoon tears are hitting the earth hard. So early morning subdued light and dramatic skies did make a great setting for photos . Yet I was without a camera . So here are the three photographs I could not take.


#1
I am in the bus. Through the bus window I can see that the early morning showers have spread the magenta coloured Bauhinia petals all over the jogging trail lined with a row Bauhiniya trees. Against the dark shade of the trail , they look contrasting. There is a street sign left by some street repairman , a simple circle with an arrow pointing downwards, warning the pedestrians of a dodgy pot hole. Around it are the Magenta petals contrasting against dark pathway. Some cracks of the tar are also visible.

The shot would be , a close shot from the ground level , showing a longer depth of fields , with the sign positioned at the left side third of the frame..


#2
Bus is now on the flyover bridge , and the highway below is glistening black. The cars speeding away are drawing a trail of spray behind them. An image of jasmine blooms thrown on to the street for the perahara elephant to step , occupy my mind. The nostalagic hevisi sounds. May be it is because a friend mentioned just the other day , how she was awaken up early in the morning to the sounds of a perehara .

I’d take the shot from up here , perhaps at a 60 degree angle, in black and white .
However I am undecided between whether to take it with a slower shutter speed to capture some of the motion or to take with a faster one to capture the details of the spray. But in any case the road , the vehicles and the lines of the trails would take up most of the composition.


#3
The Bus is now at the intersection . Inside is dark. I can only make out the silhouette of the heads of the fellow passengers ahead of me .
Amber and the read glow of the traffic lights have lit up the bus windows . The droplets on widows are like little glass pebbles in bright sunlight. The patterns sketched by the rain drops’ paths too are clearly visible . Against that bright backdrop the silhouette of the heads look striking .

I’d take the shot in full colour and with higher contrast. Capturing about 2 , 3 rows of passengers on focus , from an angle, showing bright coloured rectangles that are the bus windows as the backdrop .

Saved by a blog

Have you heard story about the man who cried for the shoes until he saw a man with no feet ?

This week that was me who craved for the shoes.

I found my self between a rock and a hard place and wished I have reached the bottom , and was not still on the fall , reaching a new low as each moment go passing by.

Then I stumbled upon a blog written by a young Sri Lankan, who is working in the middle east . His wife and 3 year old daughter are left back home . He misses all the important milestones of the little girl. All because he has to work his way out of debt . The debt also is a result of trying to help out a friend . To digress a bit , there is an apt Sinhalese saying “Hitha Honda Gaani Hamadama badin” , which loosely translates to a reference of a lady who due to her goodhearted nature who is always pregnant. (But the essence of it lost in the translation. )

Writing seems down right honest. No frills , no self marketing, no ego trips . Written just to relieve a heavy heart. At the last full stop , you could almost hear the long sigh.

There were 74 comments . I teared up reading some. . They were that heartfelt. This is a close community all right, and some sort of comradeship is expected . But in the words (at least) I could feel more than that. A sense of some thing familiar, a nostalagic warmth . Through the lines, Sri lankaness shone through like a beacon . The thing that makes us feel another’s pain although we would have killed each other for a couple square feet of land . Which we try to suppress in our quest to become posh or professional. Peer deep within , and you find it and then realize what genteel beings we really are.

People have written about how they toil in foreign lands to ease the debt burden , to put food on the table , for a better future for their kids . I know a few such people , I am sure you do too . Try to remember they are not just stories or characters , they are people

About how grown men stuck over seas , take a photo of their child from their wallets and gaze. How lonely evenings ,make them sit for hours in park benches and cry.

People have written about their childhoods, without fathers to attend their school prize givings . The anger,the envy ,the shame and the loneliness they felt seeing other children with their fathers.. Then when they themselves had to do the same., they finally realized what their fathers went through. The full circle .

Reading done, my problems were still there and I was still struggling with them. Then I closed my eyes and pictured my daughter waiting for me at home .

Suddenly , as we say with the grammatical correctness of Colombo , my problem was no problem.

ගස් කරුවක කැදලි තනා
රසමසවුළු තුඩින් කවා
දුක් වින්ද වින්ද 

ඇති දැඩි කල
පුංචි කොණ්ඩ කිරිල්ලියක්
කල්පයක් පෙරුම් පුරා
අද
දොරට වඩිනවා

පෙන්ද පිහාටු

හරි සවි නැති
ඇ සිත තවමත් ලපටි 

තව ටික දවසක් වත් 

කැදැල්ලේ උනුහුමට ගුලිවී

හිටියානම් ... 

කොන්ඩ කුරුළු පියෙක්

හිත මුමුණනවා 

Bicycle in the window. 

Fish bowl on the window sill, in Sunday mid morning light.

සියලු ප්‍රශ්න විසඳන ඉස්සෝ වඩේ

ඇය හඩන්නිය 
සාගරයක් 
මා හද අවුලවා 
ලැව් ගින්නක්
මුරය නිමවූ දිනකර
නුබ කුස ඇඳි සිත්තමක් 
මේ අලකලංචි මැද්දේ 
ඉස්සෝ වඩේ පෙට්ටියක් 
කන ළඟ 
කන්නලව්වක්

The Centre of the universe

The vast

with all it’s light and

darkness

All what it is and

what it is not

Childhood memories 

and lazy Sunday noons

Heart breaks 

and rock and roll tunes 

Spun around  the point

Of self

A surreal illusion of the mind

and experiences

and time

Around which we built

our cities, memories, worlds

feelings, lives , stories 

and the truth

the abosulte

both yours and mine 

Death of stars

Some stars

glow the brightest towards their end

owning the skies

stretched over many a nights

they shine

oh they shine

for light years to come

wiping out all the traces

of the others being

and when they die

oh when they die

the void in the skies

make men avenge their deaths

and women

wail for days

then

time flows

through the valley of space

and drown

the memory of 

 the bright glow

 that once was

Some stars

go silently

gently

like the tender waft

distressing only a few tresses

on a long autumn dusk

Not unsettling

the night’s arrangement

of light patterns

None to pine

No wailing

for their demise

Just a lone teary eyed widow missing

Oh yes she is still  missing

the gentle being he was

But one day

someone will  gaze up

and realize

the empty spot

where a twinkling once hung

Sometimes all you need is someone to listen
(From Trincomalee Sunday)

 ඈ හැඟුම් 
මට ඇහෙන්න ඉඩ දී

සබද රළ

වෙනු නිහඩ

මා සුසුම් 

ඈට ඇසෙනු නොහි

සබද නල 

හමනු නගා හෝ හඬ 

I am ...But..

Here’s where it is arising from,  I read this guy ,  John Acuff ,  about people’s dreams , their dream jobs  and aspirations they keep secured deep within their hearts .( Now “secured” is a funny word to use in this context as dreams are supposed to be dreamt out. Given wings to soar, not  kept tucked inside nooks in one’s heart or any other place that light rarely reaches ).

Mr Acuff goes on to say how we fly our dreams at times , for brief moments , like a kite . Loosening our grip on the line , so that it can soar a bit , and then pull it back the instant we feel  losing  control  and creep back in to our day jobs and to do a reverse superman ( Like Superman changing back in to Clerk Kent. )

And when somebody asks us why , we say  “Oh yes I’d rather be …But…” . 

So my reflection in to what  I’d rather be doing now and the but , ended up something in the lines of

Want to travel to cities , take photos and write the stories I see … But.. I am stuck in a cubicle earning a living

Then started asking the question from people. Started imagining the stories of the people I see , I meet and sometimes never met. Here goes the list . I am not trying to be  judgmental but imagining the many stories we rarely tell .

Can you identify somebody you know. Can you identify you?

I’d rather be falling in love But I am reading Daniel Steel                (The Girl in the train, opposite seat) 

Want to grow orchids But I am going to meet yet another client for 15% commission sale
(Guy in pinstripe suit and thin tie)

Want to be happy But I am envious
 
Want to play tennis But it is still 4 o clock                               (Two desks in front of me)

Want to eat spicy Crab Curry  listening to the waves But  my relief just delivered twins .

Want to slap you across your face but I love you                (once saw in the eyes of a very patient
                                                                                          woman) 

Want to cry today But people are watching                          (a mother stunned for response , when
                                                                                           queried about her son) 

Want to win this lottery so bad but I forgot to by a ticket

Wanted to retire at 40 return home and read papers at 10 oclock every morning
but  need to send by son is a bright kid and need to send him to Oxford

Want to dream loud but I am frightened                               (55 year old closet violinist)

I want  a dog but mummy says no                                            (My favourite 9 year old) 

I want to marry her , build a small house with square windows and floral curtains . Want to water the “miris Patthiya “( Chillie pepper plants) in the morning and watch her making tea but where’s the money

I want to have 3 children . An eldest a daughter and then a son and the youngest a daughter, but where the time  (The lady hugging the Prada hand bag)

I am an artist but I make burgers                                   (Skinny kid at Mcdonalds)

The air does not smell burnt gun powder any more but my heart isn’t any lighter.
(Thangamani @killinochchi)


Is there anything that you wish you’d be rather be doing now .  A person you wish you’d  rather be .
something you feel you should’ve done or not done.

 So what is your “I am ..But” ?.

Please do share your story