No Strings Attached

Seeya had died in 1986.Never seen or heard him except in those old black and white photographs. It’s been 29 years since his death. Today we had a Dane (alms giving) to bless him with pin. To wish him a better afterlife. Perhaps a common practice among SriLankan Buddhists. All my uncles, aunties and family friends got together. I was a part of it too. I went. I saw .I heard. I learnt.I was humbled.

Once the Dane was offered and received by the maha sanga, Lokuhamuduruwo gave a little speech on the event, discussed the merits of giving and those duties to be fulfilled by children to their parents which was once told by the enlightened one in Singalovada Sutta. It was then time to chant pirith.The voices raised all in one. I liked the resonance created by those high and low end notes. They were sung in such fashion with pauses and spirituality. I like pirith recitals. There is some beauty that harmonizes all backgrounds.

A  few words went on .

“Ayu waddako, dhana waddako, siri waddako, yasa waddako, bala waddako, wanna waddako, sukha waddako hothu sabbada”

The words are from Gini Piritha. They wish long life, prosperity, beauty, strength  and power. Thus prays for a life full of comforts. These reminded me of a conversation that took place sometime back between a few relatives of mine.

“I wonder how much of pin I have collected today, my total pin. I give people as much as I can, so I will have more comforts” one of those old aunties remarked three years ago at an alms. Among them was another distanced relative who blindly follows Buddhism. Not even kills a minute ant. Speaks high of Buddhism but always fight for the Kos that falls off a huge Kos tree they’ve got right infront of their house. She thinks that big Danaswould give more merits than for a little given.

 Dana isn’t anything unusual for Sinhala Buddhists. We consider Dana or giving as the best way to practice letting go things and to put halt to “asava” or craving. The question is whether we do it right.

We give and give thinking that generosity will erode greed gradually. But inch by inch we tend to crave more. We expect something in return. We wish to be born again with more comforts. We wish to be in heavens. Aren’t we in need of more the more we dispose? We are still entangled in thanha.

Alms givings and charity projects are all over. CSR’s and CCR’s are often heard in the business community. Cooperate Social Responsibility has now become the science of fixing long term sustainability in businesses. But sponsorships are often dedicated for high budget sports events or cultural shows.  CSR is not the art, the culture or sport. It’s a way of enhancing the quality of life. To reach hearts of those who are in need. Interestingly some companies deny sponsorships just because it isn’t profitable or not competitive enough for benchmarking purposes.

Big or small, profitable or not isn’t the matter. Giving is all about being happy with what is given. We need not to expect gifts in return. We got to shorten the sansara .End the suffering.  Not to be born again and not a life full of luxury.

We got to  break strings, apart those flesh tight drenched in thanha…

( Published on the 30th March 2014 in " The Nation" )

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Lessons Learnt

We are all connected. May be in thoughts or else in action. This is why I believe that strangers are awesome. Having encountered some, I think it’s adventure. Random people are just those who are yet to come to know. There is something that we can breach off from those who come to us. It’s a balance between life and death. No life is a waste when spending with people. Because there is something good to know always.

I’m not a rich traveler. I’ve just made a few to Singapore, Maldives, and Malaysia. And longtime back to Belgium too. Traveling is fun. It always gives us something new. I just got back home two weeks ago after spending nearly two months in Thailand. It was my second time in Thailand. But this time the trip served something very different.

When did you ever get satisfied thinking that “everything will be ok very soon “. This is crap. Once we achieve a thing, there is something else missing. Working on long term goals don't bring happiness. I knew it. The present is all what we have. Never postpone things. Grab things as much as you can whenever there is a chance. Breakaway the risk. Live the moments now. And now.

We make attempts. Not the first, not the second, may be the seventh will let us jump the wall. When things go wrong we forget the fundamentals. Instead blame the destiny. But impossible is nothing. It is a matter of working up your ass off. Not just to sit and screw up the entire life. Mat was one of those German friends I met during the journey. He often talked about the hard times he had while doing his bachelors. The several times he had to go from shop to shop asking for some little job to earn his living , the time spent walking miles and miles late in the night peeping into supermarkets . He recollected them. He didn’t want to bother his parents. “They weren’t much educated”, he said. But today he holds a Masters in Physics. He is a Science Researcher in one of those reputed Universities in Germany and is eagerly waiting to complete his PhD. Besides he is a rich traveler.

Something interesting now. Yes, internet can be harmful at times. I know. Too much of technology can even lead to distress according to psychologists. But Internet is the greatest thing. Google maps and google translator helped me all the way to Thailand. To talk and travel was easy. Not everything is bad. There is something good about anything we have got. It’s just a matter about how we use things. Attitude crap!

I realized that life is not only what we see in the books or the T.V. Go, get out and do something with people. Seeking out people with different cultures can teach a lot. It could be to speak hearts loud, to listen others or to respect ones feelings. , whether you like it or not. See, there is a lot to know!

The 45 days in Thailand ended this way. Wait, the lessons aren’t done yet.

It was the 1st of March. A Saturday. To leave all people was some kind of an ache. Sarathchandra once said  Lovehi aththe yaam eem pamanayi (Life is all entrances and exits). Where ever we go, what we will carry is the memory. Not that time again. Not those people again.

My flight got delayed that day. I had to spend another 7 and half hours to get to home. I was standing near a departure board when I met a random man. He was from Bangladesh. The long conversation perhaps cheered me up. We talked about Thailand. Many a times he had visited SriLanka. That was something good to know. He was eager to know about my plans for the future. I went on talking. He was married. He had been holidaying for some days in Thailand. And now it was time for him to head back to work in Kuwait after a 5 hour transit in SriLanka.

There was something striking in our meet up. Traveling alone would excite us always. His was different.

“Holidaying is different. You know that after a few days you are back in home with your people. But working in your own in another country for years is different. How much it could be interesting you will always miss the people you love. Imagine being alone, miles and miles away? You never know when you will be back in your home country. You’ll Skype them, chat them every day. But the need for affection, security and validation is something you’ll never achieve. This will knock your heart someday. A day you settle down in a country away from people who you love”

Everyone needs the same thing. Everyone needs love security and hopes for a better day. There is no difference in billionaires and a common man.

He gave me his business card. His name, address and contact numbers were all printed. He assured that I can see him if by chance I visit Kuwait or Bangladesh.

I landed to katunayake airport by one ‘o clock in the morning. I put my hands into the pocket. The card was missing. May be by mistake it fell down. I was sad. I will not meet him some day. I don’t remember his name. All I know is, he was a nice man.

( This story was carried in " The Nation"  newspaper under the title " Lessons learnt by a Traveler" on the 20th April 2014)

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People I have known and loved

He asked me why I laughed and at times why I smiled at things he says. This all happened a few weeks back when I was in Thailand for a teaching project. He was Mr. Panya Lawan. The headmaster of Wat Makham School. The school in which I taught .I didn’t know what to say. My smile was a thing for fascination. Even confusion.

 I loved math as much as I did for literature. Spending a year in the math stream I later switched into Arts. I still didn’t know what would sustain me, math or arts. I even spent a month in the commerce class. Perhaps I was such an addle pate.

There is a teacher I love. Mrs. Dithika Hidellage.She was my A/L Logic teacher. She would tutor me on every Sunday. One of my school mates joined me too. I was very good at deductions and derivations in Logic. They were all math. She knew I had better brains to deal with numbers and x, y and z’s. She often regretted me doing arts. All because a math degree would give me more opportunities. But I convinced her that I’m happy with what I’m doing with a genuine smile. My smile was one of those sweet and submissive things, Mrs. Hidellage exclaimed again and again.

People come and go. Sometimes the most interesting ones leave sooner. These two were such I have met and known. Mr. Panya is a recent comrade. He is different from Principals I’ve met in life. His greatest assets were the broken chair and a low wooden chair like desk on which he use to keep his laptop. He had his separate room. Neatly kept. Air-conditioned. Decorated with a golden Buddha statue. But the room was just kept closed all the time. He preferred a packed little room where four or five teachers used to sit. He talked to his heart’s content. Sang as much as he wanted.  He had the habit of singing while running through files and documents. He didn’t wait for others. Rather he worked himself. Did his documentation.  He did his own writing and printing. Even watered the plants and helped cleaning the school. He was something more than presiding over a school. He use to make fun of little kids. Hug them, squeeze their noses, fight them and celebrate glory. He was a father. A soul mate.

I don’t know his age. Probably in his sixties. He is young in heart. I loved the way he often use to make fun of pretty ladies. Even those beautiful teachers in the school. He was a cheering aid. His action and drama thrilled me always. His favorite was imitating animal sounds. He’s an animal lover. Full of energy. Every evening he has soccer sessions with his mates. He is handsome. He is the kind of man I like. Benevolent and easy. Relaxed and tongue – in – cheek.

There is something that I’ll never forget in him.  They are the stories of a Prime Minister. Of one to become a Prime Minister. He enjoyed politics. Rather he dreamt of “Lawan” replacing “Shinawatra”. He acknowledged his country. He was humbled. 

I’ve been writing this article many times. In my mind. There are no pictures I have had with them. But for those moments spent. The happy hours. These words will restore the nostalgia.

There is hope that I’ll see Mrs. Hidellage. But who knows whether I‘ll ever get to see Mr. Panya again. Whether I’ll ever go to Thailand again!

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Hell is women for those infidel ?

There were slight rain showers outside as I came out of the washroom after a bathe. It was a Saturday, a long day after heavy soccer trainings. I laid down on the couch with a plump of files, to browse through the remaining notes as the finals were coming ahead soon. Contracts to Criminal and then back again to Family law.

Family law was one of my favorites. It was nothing but for those thought provoking disclosures of  Sir A.H.M.D  Nawaz, one of the Deputy Solicitor Generals at the Attorney General’s Department that kept me liking the subject. Every single theory behind family law was some interesting stories. They were stories for life. Stories never to miss.

There are no countries with restrictions, formally or informally. Some embrace them happily and some do not. Some reject the Divorce; some bitterly chuck infidelity while the others are smart about them. Monogamy is what is accepted and expected. Hardly one could voice that being infidel is adventure, a way to form needs that are unfulfilled or a way to be happy for the unhappy. I was told and taught in school: that infidelity wrecks life down the years and so does divorce at times. But later at Law College I was questioned: “dennatama ekata inna bari nam mokada wenne?” (What would be if both the partners can’t stay together?) .

After all it’s the attitudes that create walls; stop us from jumping walls, or to cry our hearts loud of what we really feel. There was one colleague who raised himself. ‘If two partners cannot stay together, one cannot tie their legs by law, after all we are humans, feelings change, circumstances change, sometimes maturity diminishes with marriage. He feels that he is too young, too old, too fat, too thin, too poor, too stupid, or too whatever to be desirable and thus tend to go behind someone else other than for his legal partner. Therefore marriage shouldn’t be an entrapment.’ He is correct. Although many might disagree with the thought. Couldn’t it be that culturally and socially marriage is linked with morality rather than a pure civil contract in the hands of law in this country?  Not surprisingly the damage is worse when a marriage is irretrievably broken for little reasons.

Keep away the marriage aside.Mr. Nawaz was one of those men I liked. I liked the way he taught. Obviously it is the experience that mirrored his words. He had his favorite quotes. “No hell a fury like a woman scorned”. This was one such. The quote was a bit familiar and sounded very Shakespearian to me. Man was I wrong! Later research taught me that the words were taken off by William Congreve’s play named “Love for Love”. There was something gripping about the quote. I was in love with the quote as much as Mr. Nawaz did.

One afternoon we were interpreting a few divorce cases. Mr. Nawaz came up with horrendous situations where women were acting “the gonibilla” in front of their men. There were women who slapped and chocked, those who threatened with arms and fire and even those women who brashly took off the man’s pants in public. The women were so desperate to know that their men were sleeping with other women or having sexual encounters. I was left with pity for men. William Congreve was right. Women can give hell even worse than hell. Especially when they are rejected or spurned. The fact was just plain and neatly parceled in those women in the few cases.

One could say it’s right for a woman to fight over his man. Not to have his man shared by many. Because natural instincts still govern human relationships. But I believe that “Dhamma “governs everything. Whether we like it or not or even if we could hardly comprehend its dimensions. As a habit, every morning “bana” is being played in radio at our home. I was the last to leave home that day. There was a statement made by the priest. Quite similar to Congreve’s quote. He was questioning as to why women are despaired by their men who go out with other woman. And some even think of dying because of such men. We know things. We know how thunder causes, we know the directions. We know from where the sun rises and from where the sun will set. But there are things that are abstract of which the processes are mystifying and obscure. Why bother over a soul not resident? It’s Thanha that leads to assertion and claim. Why suffer over husband’s karma? A man’s desire for such infidelity is some inherited karma, a collection of sins in previous lives may be. No woman is ought to carry her partner’s karma or vice versa. Let the man have the life he deserves. Let the other women share his body.  Divulge from attachment   and “ashawa” that causes suffering.

One could arguably say that the man is wrong. He betrays the woman. But at times karma is too complicated that we got to twist and turn things to see the full picture. Buddha has always emphasized that one may inquire to himself to confirm things and not just to depend on books or what somebody said. One may interpret infidelity,Thanha or attachment in many ways as possible. This could be one way to ease the pain of seeing another or a partner being infidel. Just saying. That’s all.

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I heard . I saw. I thought

“120/Kmph “was noted on the dashboard. My eyes moved between the big numbers of the speedometer. He was super-fast. Was quite steady in driving.  A jump into the Thai tollway was breathtaking. I liked the way the highways interspersed from one another which took me higher and higher. The tall buildings that pierced through was a stunning picture. After one hour’s drive, he stopped me in front of a Medical Center. But it wasn't the place I wanted to go to. Several times I told him that I need to go to Rang sit. Instead he was pointing at the building and was jabbering in Thai. For some time I was staring at him. I ended up with little gags for myself.  I found him smiling gently at me. At times not being able to talk the same language or not being able to understand an outsider can boil one’s veins until it give away bubbles. I knew the way I had come was wrong but he did not. But my android was left for something better.

I googled a few pictures of the Bangkok University in Rang Sit. That’s where my dorm was. I drew my phone at him. A careful look at the pictures made him realize the place I wanted to go. He suddenly came up with a big “OOooh” along with a laugh. He was too humble enough to admit that he had driven me a long way to somewhere else.  I was quite surprised to see a taxi driver not knowing places by their names. Or was it that my pronunciation sounded weird?  The question recurred in my mind until I got off the taxi. It would be funny to take away tourists to unknown places, to give them some adrenaline hypes and fear them like hell. I remember someone  telling me that Thai taxi drivers would make fun out of tourists at times by circulating them in the same route just to make the distance long . And the interesting thing is outsiders could hardly notice it unless one is capable of positioning the buildings around carefully.

There was something very SriLankan except for the wide and complicated highways. The vehicles drew with much discipline on the toll ways. But not on the normal road. Twice I met with angry drivers who often blamed drivers around him. Even did they try to drive fast as they could and hit the gears on ground vigorously. So an average Toyota car would even turn into a GT-R in seconds.

Once I made several phone calls to Thilina ayya , a friend of mine ,to get to one of the offices in Colombo. He went on describing buildings with colors. Most often we don’t remember the names of the streets. It’s more like that we don’t bother or make effort to remember every crap we see. Rather we would draw lines with colors, pictures or posters which can be identified easily. The journey alone to Khaosarn in Central Bangkok was a haywire. I stopped at many tuk- tuk’s and taxi drivers to ask directions to my hotel. Nobody gave me the proper details. A Policeman that my eyes caught was my next thought.” Go straight, count ten buildings to your right from here. Turn to your right once you reach the tenth. Pass a few shops that sell Chinese products. You will see board names with Chinese characters. Then you’ll get dirty building with a 7-eleven. Cross the road to your left. You will see your hotel “, the Policeman said .This is how most of the Sri Lankans give directions. People differ from place to place but sayings and doings can reflect a part of our homes sometimes. It’s gladdening.

It’s not the name, the address or the number that matters us most of the time. It’s the shape, the color, or the appearance of a person that sticks with us more often. And even the memories joint with certain towns, cities or any specific place make us remember things well.  The policeman made me realize that pictures talk, pictures dance, they form into different shapes just to make us not forget things. Even the minions we see. Life is not logic or numbers. There are things to be sensed with picture or beauty. Even ugly things play their part.

I’m now back home after 45 days of stay in Thailand. I could still recall the way to my hotel. I bet I could give directions to someone else even staying at home.

Somethings are fixed and memorable. Even hard to remove with a little glue.

(Published in " The Nation " in early March 2014)

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A Note From Thailand

(Written while in Chaiyo, Ang Thong Province, Thailand)

So this could be the starting point of an adventure. The advent of being alone, to walk alone in a strange city, to smile at the not known, to greet in the “Thai” way, to talk a bit loud , laugh loud and to drag the words  when speaking   , it was weird  on the first day I met  “Mea Won “. Talk a blue streak and no one here would understand a single thing. Perhaps they are gentle and slow in what they do.

Formerly it was known as “Siam”, meaning the dark or brown because the Thai ancestors were black skinned. Interestingly all men and women in the country are whites now.  The black magic of the African ancestry is no longer there in Thailand. The Lao and Chinese origins have brought about a mystic combination in Thais. Thai women are well formed and tempting. So does the men! The two days of my stay at a friend’s apartment in Bangkok brought me down to a room with a stuffed dressing table.  Every semi – liquid cream was a skin whitener.  Little tubes of Pond’s cream, the half emptied bottles of Fair and Lovely and even the Face wash, the moisturizer, exfoliate washes, and sunblock consisted of “whitening agents”.  Ever in my life have I given a second thought for cosmetics, creams or whatever it is? The second encounter sounded like a bomb shell when an old Thai woman questioned me for not having any curls in hair neither any lipstick when every Thai woman is a fashionable craze.

Their owned and diverse life styles are a must to have known. Some those who have found shelter in Northern Thailand   from war in Burma dictates that young girls are fitted with brass neck rings to ward off evil spirits. Over the years the weight of added rings crushes collarbones and ribs. Now tourist dollars impel long – necked woman in Thailand to again collar their daughters. They say it’s a dying custom of the Padaung (Burmese) people. Bangkok is pretty different! The “too short “shorts and t- shirts are often the uniform for women. Huh! Even the men prefer wearing shorts. Hardly one would come across men in trousers here.

I just wondered would they ever care dying of a heart attack or getting end up with high blood pressure. Heaps and heaps of meat they gulp shocks me every time. They just don’t mind whether it’s duck, octopus, the pig or the bull. Terrifying mouths and awful stomachs they’ve got! I still couldn’t finish up eating a whole chicken leg for the 21 days I've spent in Thailand. Food never ends here. Every inch you walk will have a hut full of deep fried meat, sausages and other kinds of weird food which is hard to describe of what they are made. But I’d tell you, one should never miss the food here. It’s one of a kind. Thrilling and tempting! Big cartons of milk and various drinks for 10 or 15 baht is worth drinking. They can quench your thirst for nearly an hours ride you make.

A few Thai parties I witnessed were a singular opportunity to discover the essence of Thai life. We have our Dj’s performing and providing entertainment for us in home. But here the “Karaoke” is something exceptional. Every party or a gathering will never miss singing Karaoke among themselves. They will have the music provided by a record player. Loud and creaky music is what they like. They are phenomenal dancers too!

The happy city is always awake. The clubs and pubs are crowded with those who would like to have a fine dine, get drunk and whine or if you are lucky enough, even to make some casual love.The country is fine even behind the dark holes of Thaksin’s politics. Every step made is gripping here. There won’t be a better place than my home. But I know I’m engulfed with the land’s natural beauty. The sandy lanes, broad highways, glittering nights and softer hearts add more delight.

Last Tuesday was an action packed day. Had so much to do with the little kids in school. That evening I drove myself to the market with my roommate. It was 6.30 in the evening when we were walking back home. Twilight had already settled down on the Chao Phraya River when we were taking the bend.  It was shining in bright red and luminous orange on a yellow mixed magenta canvas fringed beneath the faded bluish patches. No way it was an irresistible picture. I looked back again, again and again until the sun disappeared from my way.

Thailand is seductive, much to rouse a man! A few words poured down my brains. But it wasn't the sun or the sky I saw.

The more I flirt, the more I love Thailand. I gently bent down my head and smiled from one corner of my mouth as I entered the house.

 ( Published in " The Nation" in early february 2014)

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Waiting For Godot

Formerly it was known as “Siam”, meaning the dark or brown because the Thai ancestors were black skinned. Interestingly all men and women in the country are whites.  The black magic of the African ancestry is no longer there in Thailand. The Lao and Chinese origins have brought about a mystic combination in Thais. Thai women are well formed and tempting. So does the men! Fine dining and attention to detail are the hallmarks of the Mandarin oriental. Bright colors—from umbrellas, clothing, and wares—brighten the muddy water of the Amphawa floating market in Samut Songkhram. Fruits, vegetables, flowers, and food tempt buyers are at floating markets across Thailand.

The twilight settles on the Chao Phraya river around 6’o clock. Chao’s sunset is the most beautiful I think.  A rare view of the sun, so closer and perfectly round in shape. It dazzles with bright red and luminous orange on a yellow mixed magenta canvas fringed beneath the faded bluish patches. Climbing for some 140 meters high and approximately 50 meters wide, recline the gold plated Buddha statues guarded by thick forests.  It is a mark of Buddhism underlying the khama in daylight along Pattaya and Phantong beaches. Thailand is mesmerizing. But not for its yellow mixed magenta skies or the bright waters of Amphawa or the tempting cuisine can cool down the boiling war between Thaksin and Bhumibol (The King of Thailand)

The wars fought against Cambodia, Laos and Burma waxed off the Kingdom. The Burmese held up. It was time for Thaksin! Since the day Thaksin became the Prime Minister he has been a busy man. He bought and sold England’s Manchester City football Club, acquired a titanium mine in Zimbabwe, started a lottery in Uganda, acquired a Nicaraguan passport, met with Vladimir Putin and met Nelson Mandela.

Wait! He is still busy doing things.

He now dreams of becoming the Head of Thailand. Thaksin is a successful mobile operator. A silicalite chip running with signals. What matters and mattered him was   the increase and decrease of figures. Law was second hand. Moral values weren't a part of him.  He was happy when the GDP increased. He enjoyed the comforts when the debts fell off. Perhaps a typical business mind turned into politics. He was a proud owner of many developed transport systems in Thailand,   A bombastic figure of the highways and Airports in the country. But did he ever smile at the corruption? the authoritarianism? the money he laundered for him and his family through government commissions?

He was a total crook  who artificed a bleeding heart. Many men of the country are being fooled by his money. He confidently announces that he wants to come back to Thailand and serve the people.  Why then escape?  It should be remembered that the tongue can lie a many but not the heart can be duped easily.

Money has turned out to have a better heart than for the virtues of a man. This is why Thaksin is still energetic, ambitious and alive among many Thais. He empowered the long ignored voices of the countryside. He managed to develop funds worth 1 million THB (Thai Baht) to help the poor. The Rice Subsidy project raised by him became popular among farmers but eventually resulted cash shortages. Yet there will be more about Thaksin, Thaksin and Thaksin running up in the lips of people in years to come in Thailand.

“If you love my brother, will you give his younger sister a chance?”  Once Yingluck Shinawatra led the crowd roar of approval at a camp, leaving little doubt as to whether the Gulf City is home to her brother Thaksin.

It’s a hunger game. Hungry for power. To own the flesh , to earn more and to celebrate the throne. To have pictures and posters of him on the city walls , every doorstep or the clock wall. Its nothing more than the greed , perhaps unending satisfaction. Nevertheless it’s a man’s thing. There is no therapy unless proper medication is found.

 ( Published in " The Nation" in early February 2014)

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