XMAS LUNCH 2022

 @ The Beach Wadiya, Wellawatte, Sat Dec 17 2022

Caught Naked In The Dark

 Caught Naked In The Dark 

(A Confession of a Mother)

Belonging to a middle-class family from Kandy, I and my husband lived in and around Colombo. We had two sons and two daughters. All four of them were highly talented and with very pleasing features.

My eldest son was very keen on cooking food and he used to help me when I was cooking something in the kitchen. The Intercontinental Hotel opened in 1971 and my eldest son Godfrey got an opportunity to work as an assistant in the pastry and sweet section of the hotel.

Godfrey happened to be a very smart young man and he gradually worked his way up to become the pastry chef of that hotel. He then got an opportunity to work as a pastry chef at Muscat Intercontinental Hotel Oman and gradually worked up his way as a pastry chef at Abu-Dhabi Intercontinental Hotel.

There he met a Burgher girl called Preeni, she also worked as a food and beverage secretary in the same hotel. They married and were blessed with three girls and a boy. Meanwhile, a leading hotel chain built a beautiful hotel in the heart of Colombo and Godfrey became the first Sri Lankan Chef to earn his salary in US Dollars working as an executive pastry chef for this hotel.

My son and Preeni managed to buy a house in Dehiwala and were settled, when suddenly he got involved with an Airline Hostess and finally his family broke up. My son was having an affair with this hostess but did not marry her but moved into the girl’s home in Kalubowila and was blessed with a girl and a boy.

My son became very famous for his sweets, chocolates, cakes and his passion towards women. Some say that he could not see a skirt.

In a way I was glad that my husband was living to Witness what happened to his much loved boys and girls.

I see my husband thinking and always in his own world. Even after his retirement, he was not allowed to live in peace. Worries - Worries never ending worries with regard to his four children.

My second daughter was Selonie and worked for AirLanka as a Hostess, She met a nice guy who used to work with her on the same Airline. They got married and were blessed with two boys. My daughter was happily married to Suren. When he suddenly decided to go to London to follow an advanced course in Engineering. He was accompanied by his wife and their two boys.

Living in a country with two children and while her husband was following a course and working as well, was not very easy for my daughter Selonie. Suren somehow thought of a solution. His cousin was idling at home. So he decided to call his cousin to help in this situation just to keep company and to help them when needed. His cousin named Paul was much younger than my daughter Selonie. But being together they developed an affair and finally fell deeply in love with each other and couldn’t be parted. Suren finished his course and came back to Sri Lanka but Selonie’s mind was in London and was always in contact with this young kissing cousin. Selonie’s two boys had a special liking for Paul. Things happened so fast that in no time Selonie divorced Suren and married Paul. She managed to migrate to London on marital status with her two sons.

Suren did not know what struck him and from where. He was so upset that he found employment in Dubai and settled there for a while. After the separation Suren contacted his family purely because of his two sons. He made it a point to visit them sometimes in London. Selonie managed to find employment with Harrods Super Chain in London where she works up-to-date. The children also got adopted to the situation and they still live in London. Years passed and things changed when Paul decided to dump Selonie and go his way alone.

These stories are like fairy tales but a nightmare to the mother and father and for some, it sounds like a Sinhala teledrama. But nothing seems to be working within the marriages and lives of our children.

We used to call our second son Chuuti malli and he managed to work himself up the ladder and finally ended up in the USA. There he was silent for a while and became rich all of the sudden. Many of my family members were under the impression that working in the USA could make someone rich in no time. But his case was different after living in the states for a while, he had come across a rich gay Millionaire and lived with him a couple of years and later extracted lots of money from this gay millionaire. After the death of this gay millionaire, Chuuti malli inherited all his wealth and became rich. However, being good parents we did not approve of such things and kept wondering what disasters befell on our family.

Nothing good has happened to our family that could make us proud.

My eldest daughter, Kesari, was very pretty and worked for a private organization in Colombo. Her boss was a very famous person in the Colombo business and executive circle.  

Now this story is very interesting.

This boss man was married earlier but his wife kicked him out of her life. Namely Susanka had many affairs with leading ladies in town. Once he had an affair with a famous politician’s wife and had acid thrown onto his face. Luckily he was a man of money and managed to get eye surgery done in London and escaped half blind. In Spite of all these he did not give up his bad habits.

My daughter was directly under him and he kept on pushing her towards an affair. Somehow things worked between them and they were sailing high in spite of the disfigured face he had. What can you do when money talks? However they got married and had a son. Comparing their ages he was like a father to her.

Their married life was never happy as he was un tolerable and extremely vulgar man. My daughter could not have a maid at home as he tried to be funny with the maids as well. He is very thick and his approach was of a very low standard. I feel ashamed to tell the reader about the acts he carried out to the maids. Any lady knowing him never attended parties or functions at his home. To be precise he used his leg to touch ladies' private parts from under the table. He was so greedy and soon after any dinner party and the guests had left he quickly ate the leftovers on the table depriving the domestics of a leftover meal. I think the reader should now get an idea of the man. Days moved on and one day my daughter fell ill and as my grandson, Ruwan was little and needed someone to look after him. I reluctantly said okay, packed up my bag and went there.

So far things were okay and I helped in the care and medication of my daughter. I had my dinner early with Ruwan and went to bed. At about midnight I felt Ruwan embracing me very tightly. I felt sorry as I thought he must be missing his mother. His grip became tighter and I held his hand to give him some support but to my amusement, I felt hair on that hand. Then I heard someone talking softly Bashura oh Bashura I was waiting for a long time to tell you that I love you, Don't let this chance slip away. I quickly jumped up and put on the lights, to my surprise Susanka was standing beside my bed pitch naked. I shouted help me Kesari! He ran away and my daughter came running and saw my position and yelled about what happened. I told her about Susanka standing naked trying to do something to me. Don't you worry mom, after all he is my husband and I cannot divorce him?

I packed up my bag, kissed my grandson, called for a taxi and went home not to return to that house again.

Years later my daughter divorced him and now she enjoys a happy life. Susanka married another young girl and who knows what. My eldest son Godfrey left the Airlanka girl and is having an affair with another married woman.My second son Chuuti malli is continuing his gay stunts and seems to be happy. Kesari lives with her pilot son Ruwan. Selonie is a citizen of the UK and living with her two sons still working for Harrods of London.

06.11.2022

November 2022 Meetup

The group met at 9am at Dr Vimala's residence down Jawatte Gardens in Colombo. The following attended:-

Dr Vimala
Saku
Neela
Amar
Peter
Elmo L
Satchi
Angela
Fazli
Dr Carmel
Angie S
Nafisa
Asger
Madhu

The meet got off to a great start with the members introducing themselves as some had not met each other before.

Angie S kicked off by introducing her childrens' book "Cuddly & Poppy's Tea Party" explaining the background of how it all began and now the outcome of the publishing. She read out the first two pages from the book and the work was much appreciated by the members. Several chose to buy a copy too, which she had available with her.

Dr Carmel read out a thrilling account of  how an accident victime was found dead in the back of a Tuktuk when the driver reached the hospital.

Fazli gave an interesting account of, "The Ballad of Aunt Cee" who fell in love with him when he contracted the Covid-19 virus and grappled with her for three long months, finally seeing her off for good in November.

Elmo Leonard read out a few pages from his forthcoming book about St Benedicts' College and Good Shepherd Convent.

Peter, as always, exploded the group with his tantalizing story "Caught Naked in the Dark",about the sensual escapades of a family whose mother was relating her saga in dismay.

Neela gave a crushing account of how a daughter was coping with the anxiety and concerns of a devoted mother who didn't want her to touch water for fear of catching pneumonia.

Amar [to be added once I receive his transcript]

Dr Vimala shared her exciting exploits as a young woman in Trincomalee surrounded by the bombs and blasts of WWII all around her.

Saku wrote a story titled "Talking to the Toques" about how a bunch of monkeys had taken shelter in the roof of a Church.

Asger read out Chapter 36 from his book and how "Revenge is Sweet"

Medha read out two poems that she wanted the members to advice her on their suitability to be published singly or separately.

The Ballad of Aunt Cee

The Ballad of Aunt Cee

Aunt Cee was here!

Covid-19, as she is officially referred to by the WHO, while I try to showcase her as a female in this story just like weathermen do with hurricanes, has been with us since the latter part of 2019 and taking a huge toll on the health of people across the divide.

Many are the people who have been afflicted with the virus and now, three years on, more than 6.5 million people have succumbed to the lady. Out of a total of 635 million cases detected positive, the good news is that, 614 million have recovered and are back on track, restarting their lives today.

Initially, it was claimed to have been set off by the Chinese with links to eating infected meat. Later it became known that there may have also been man made laboratory reasons for the creation and spread of this lady. No one still knows the real truth, to date.

The disruption to normal human life, economies, trade, businesses, and human healthcare has been phenomenal, never seen in our generation before. Many are the lessons learned during this visitation, too.

Then came Dr Fauci, from the USA, with hopeful news of a vaccine that had been made ready for deployment, to prevent non infected people from embracing the lady. Initially, many people were a bit skeptical about taking the jab, as all kinds of stories of what may be inside it, the many possible outcomes that it would bring about, and some scary old wives tales, spread.

I had already taken my first two shots of the vaccine, followed by the third, booster, and was feeling quite comfortable that I am reasonably safe now. A fourth booster was then announced but I didn’t feel the need to take it as many fancy rumors of expired vaccines were floating around the country.

And then in July of 2022, she got me by the scruff of my rhino, lock, stock, and barrel.

At first I felt a little fever, followed by a nagging cough and runny nose. Then the body started to ache as if I had been digging wells all day, in drought stricken areas of the north central province. Then my sense of taste disappeared. She was definitely visiting.

The usual Panadol, steam inhalation, Kottamalli, Pas Panguwa, Vitamin C 50mg, daily throat gargles, and even a medically recommended cough syrup came into play. A month passed. Everything disappeared except the nagging cough and runny nose. Two months gone, three months gone. Still the cough and cold are struggling to leave. Aunt Cee is in love with me, I thought. Finally, the fact that I am here, now, speaks well for my health today. It was a rough ride I tell you. Aunt Cee has left now! – Fazli / Nov 5 2022

Am I that easy to forget?

 Am I that easy to forget?

[apologies to Debbie Reynolds]

In the beginning there was a town. It was called Bambalapitiya. In that town was a bus station. It was located on the sea side of Galle Road, opposite St Peters’ College, at the southern end.

We were both 16. 1964 was a great year for young teens sprouting off the earth in Gods little acre. She was blonde, blue eyed and Burgher. What more could a brown skinned Moor boy have asked for, to talk about and show off too, to his mates at school?

To have a girlfriend while still attending secondary school, in the 60’s, was a huge fillip to any young lads ego. And, if she was a beauty like Suzy was, then all hell broke loose. So, it passed, that each morning, Monday to Friday, we would carry our books and be at the bus stand, to meet, engage in a quick chat, and take the 105/106 bus together. Suzy hopped off at Lindsay, at the Bambalapitiiya junction, and poor young me, had to leave the gal of my dreams behind and move on further ahead. The bus took the right turn at Bullers Road and then turned left on to Thurstan Road, all the way past the University towards Royal. Another school day began.

Dad used to give each of us Rs 1/- per day for school expenses. Commuting, by bus, to Royal and back cost me 40 cents. So you think transport is expensive today, huh? Ten string hoppers with coconut (pol) “sambol” and beef curry, for lunch, took a hefty 30 cents at Mr Saranapala’s canteen. An ice cream, from the Alerics tricycle man parked outside the College gate, grabbed another 10 cents. A tiny newspaper cone filled with peanuts, 5 cents. That left me with 15 cents per day saving for five days, totaling a nice 75 cents per week. That’s a good 3 bucks at the end of the month. That was how the middle class lived in that era.

Now, what were boyfriends and girlfriends supposed to be engaging in, in those halcyon times? Sharing comics, magazines, and novels was one successful way of keeping the relationship steady. It also brought forth useful topics for discussion. One can’t always be pointing to the sky, like Englishmen do? Dad subscribed to Life Magazine, The Readers Digest, The Illustrated Weekly of India, Titbits, and a few others. I still remember the full page Titbits crossword puzzle that the whole family used to grapple with at home until the solution was delivered in the next edition. Holding hands at the Piccadily Café  after a 25 cent scoop of vanilla ice cream was awesome. Discussing the latest hits, broadcast on Radio Ceylon, of Elvis, Cliff, Ricky, Gentleman Jim, and later, the Beatles, rocked. Exchanging records, 45’s, EP’s, & LP’s, was a great piece of technology of that era that kept us engaged. A walk along the beach, holding hands, by the rail tracks facing the Kinross club, was always a great way to see the sun go down into the Indian Ocean, in the 60’s. The Wadiya wasn’t even born yet.

Sunday morning at the Savoy offered a special showing at 10 am for young people. Tom used to chase Jerry all over the place and then a musical, usually, followed. All the young folks in town were there. The Savoy was the place to be on a Sunday morning.

How does one ask a gal out to a movie with only 3 bucks in the pocket? That’s when Grandma came to the rescue. She lived with us since I can remember and always had her daily expense monies knotted up at the end of her sari fall. A ten rupee note was always forthcoming whenever the situation demanded. 13 bucks was a lot of money for a 16 year old. Two balcony tickets cost Rs 7.20. That left a chunky Rs 5.80 for ice chocs, drinks, and cashew nuts, and also another scoop of ice cream at Piccadilly Café before saying bye for the day.

O Levels came along. We had to take time off to study and pass. Exams were as important as girlfriends. I passed offering 8 subjects in science. Suzy did well too in Arts. She always wanted to be a writer. Yes, she was a bright little blonde.

It was while we were enjoying another ice cream at the Picadilly Café, this time with fruits and nuts and sugar sprinkling on top at 50 cents a scoop, that she broke the devastating news to me. The changing political climate and the sordid language issues, that were plaguing the island since the late 50’s, had forced Suzy’s dad to take the inevitable decision to leave Ceylon for good. They were planning to sail to the UK to seek their pot of gold. I walked up to the juke box, dropped a 25 cent coin in, and played “Suzy Darling”. What was poor Dick Whittington, in Bambalapitiya, going to do now?

The day finally dawned. Suzy left. Time flew. There was no more communication. Not even on snail mail. News filtered through the grapevine that Suzy had married an ex Thomian cricketer, the wrong school of course, and lived in London. I moved on too. We both had our own families now. I left the country, with my family, in 1979.

Social media was born several decades later. I had no choice but to look for Suzy online, at least just to know what she was up to, how many kids she has, what she was reading, and how she had spent her life. It’s not easy searching, online, for such a common name like hers with not much additional data available. She was never found although she still popped up in my mind.

Our two gals grew up and chose to migrate to Canada and Sweden, respectively. I finally quit my day job in the mid-east and flew to Canada to spend some quality time with the rest of the flock.  The shocking news arrived through a very strange and unusual source. The messenger was a mutual friend, Suzy and I knew in the 60’s, who had migrated to Canada long years back and now lived in Scarborough. Suzy had passed away in London in 2017, after having been diagnosed with cancer a few years before.

It was so sad to find out but it was also some kind of closure for me, in a way. The human mind has this strange facet of leaving no stone unturned until it finds out what it seeks. I’ve been away from Sri Lanka for forty years and only returned home to roost in October 2018.  Piccadilly Café is no more. The Savoy and the Kinross club still stand. Each time I pass by that bus station opposite St Peters’ College, I still think of Suzy, standing in her crispy clean well ironed white school uniform with the purple tie hanging low down from her neck, her blonde locks reflecting the sun, holding her books with both her outstretched hands as she always used to.

“Oh! Suzy darling,

I thought you knew.

You were all the world to me,

All my dreams come true”

Fazli Sameer

Mar 2019

Gas - Less Days

 GAS - LESS  DAYS

Gas-less, distressed,  I gingerly stir a curry

 on the Induction c. , no less

 and I look out  at the verandah

Where Sachi sits smiling.

The flickering flames lick up as Sachi fondly tends

 the makeshift hearth and through the smoke, I see

Their   glow reflected on his beard

As Nostalgia takes  over

And he dreams.

Fond memories of home and his mother

who tended the firewood  hearth

while  helpfully he offered dried fronds and  sticks

and the thrill of even pouring out

a whole thosai on the griddle!

Now,  as our pot boils

He stirs the rice, kukul legs and heads

 All we have managed to get

For our canine friends today -

A far cry from the “Pet Food” loaves

Of  Yesterday.

SAKUNTALA SACHITHANANDAN     JULY 2022

Capri Midsummers Lunch June 25 2022

 

Golden Haiku 2022

 Fazli Sameer

Haiku 1	A virus was born Mutating across the land It will soon be gone
Haiku 2 (Optional)	Come lie here with me Put your head on my shoulder Peace lives all around

Saku's Stories

 ----- Overcoming religion---

Over the years, I've discovered that stemming from a family influenced by two religions is a wonderful thing. My father comes from a devout Roman Catholic family. My mother came from a Buddhist family. Even though they were from the same province, Wennappuwa and Makandura could easily have been on two different planets.

They got married and the relatives from both sides were not happy. It was unheard of in my father's family to marry someone who was not only Buddhist but also Govigama. It was equally unheard of in my mother's family to marry someone who was not only Catholic, but also karave.(govigama and karave are castes in the Sri Lankan caste system)

But there they were, having fallen in love, and tied the knot, and having three offspring. If my parents had chosen to live in Wennappuwa, I'm sure our lives would be different now. But instead, they built their home in Makandura, in my mother's village.

The story goes that my mother's uncle, who was a Buddhist monk, had originally planned to give a parcel of land he inherited from his parents to my mother. But when uncovered the hanky panky between my parents he was so outraged he revoked his gift. My mother collected all the money she could and bought the land off him. That showed him, didn't it! That's where my parents built their home. And that's where my siblings and I grew up.

As a first child, I was baptised as a baby in the Wennappuwa Catholic church. That being said, because my father is who he is, the non-believer of God and eschewer of all religions, it was my mother's hand that guided us when it came to religious matters.

She let us pick. They let us pick. We were shown both worlds and we were given the chance to pick.

I loved visiting my paternal grandmother and aunt, not just because our very fun older cousin lived there. But also because the food was always amazing and there were these comic style bible story books lying around. My first forays into Moses, and David, and even Jesus came from these stories. And there were small statues of Jesus and Mother Mary around, which were so beautiful that if you stared for a while, you'd find yourself feeling peaceful.

Every Christmas we went to Wennappuwa. Most Christmases we would go on the 24th night. Because I was known as the sickly one who couldn't endure anything, I was always left behind, while my grandmother, my aunt's family, and my family went to the Midnight Mass. I slept. They took part in the Mass walked back home amidst happy crowds. I still slept.

On the 25th morning there was an amazing Christmas breakfast followed by exchanging of presents. Then we visited all our relatives living in the area. There were a lot of them! Cakes and wine and sweets and i honestly don't know how we had any tummy space left for lunch. Which we did by the way, because my aunt can cook! Her food is always so good and her Christmas table, the stuff of legends!

After tea, we left for home, the same to be repeated the following Christmas. Even though it is Christmas at Wennappuwa that I've written about, we also took part in various other Sri Lankan Christian/Catholoc days. Easter, Good Friday, the Founding day of the church known as the පල්ලියේ මංගල්ලේ, the day of the dead in November etc.

Now, I know I sound like a tourist in a new country when I speak of Christianity. Other than having read the King James bible, I have zero theological knowledge about Christianity. But I love what Jesus represents to me; hope, love, and good in the world. I love what Mother Mary represents to me; perseverance, love, and endurance.

The reason why I sound like a tourist when I speak of Christianity is because I grew up in a predominantly Buddhist environment. And because when I was small I was mostly guided by my mother when it came to religion.

I sat on the floor next to her to say pansil in the evenings and giggled when she said Akasattacha Bhummatta. I went to the temple with her. I also went to the temple Sunday school for a while. Our village temple is one of the most peaceful places I have ever been to. There's a lake just behind the half-walls. A massive bo tree with leaves rustling in the ever present breeze. White sand stepped on by countless worshippers. A පහන් වැට (a sort of a decorative wrought iron rack fir oil lamps) just behind the bo tree. A vihara filled with beautiful paintings.

I've sat on the white sand with my maternal grandmother listening to bana in the evenings. I've walked to the temple along the pothole filled road from our house and back in the moonlight.

I've learned what I could about the Dhamma.

And because of the gift of choice my parents gave me, I now do not religiously follow any religion.

I don't believe in a God. I also think that the deities associated with Buddhism are most probably extraterrestrial or extradimensional beings. That's just me being a nerd, but well!

But I believe in Karma, as in the cause and effect of everything. I also somewhat believe in reincarnation as a natural progression of karma, keyword being somewhat.

In my books, for whatever it is worth, people need religion because it is comforting to think that there's someone look after us, someone to guide us. But mostly because it gives us a sense of comfort as we contemplate the great beyond.

When my mother died, one of the things I wished for, other than turning back time was to know where she is now. My Buddhist background dictates that she must be somewhere. It would have given me great comfort to know where exactly. But I know that I cannot.

Also, in times of distress, I have wished I had a higher being guiding me, showing me the way. But I know that I do not.

Apart from all of this, what I wanted to say was that as someone who grew up in a bi-religious family, I knew from childhood that different people hold different beliefs and values, and that's okay. When I was about eight or nine I used to get mad at my cousin for believing in a God and she used to get mad at me for not believing in one. But we have loved each other very much throughout the years and our differences have never retracted from our love.

What I wanted to say was that it's okay I have beliefs different from yours. It's okay for you to have beliefs different from mine. It doesn't make either of us better or worse.

Instead of a doctrine or a religion, what I believe in now is being kind, being considerate, being good not for the sake of righteousness but just because you can. What I now believe in is that we are all very very flawed. We are multifaceted. What I now believe in is accepting people with their differences.

Thankfully, I have a partner who believes likewise when it comes to religion, and in our household, children are not forced into accepting religion. My almost nine year old for instance is going through a phase where he loves Egyptian and Greek mythologies. And we are okay with that. So is he. My almost three year old says Sadhu everytime she sees a temple and we are okay with that too.

Be and let be. Love and let love.

Happy holidays!

Saku's Stories

 ---- Discovering Religion ----

A few weeks ago, we were travelling somewhere and the topic of religion sprang in the car. I think it was Deepavali and I explained to Seth that Deepawali meant the festival of light. He grumbled, apparently he wasn't happy with Hinduism. When asked why, he explained that a friend of his had done a dance for the school Dusshera festival and he didn't like the dance. So logically, he didn't like Hinduism. But when I explained that many of his friends were in fact Hindu and does their religion play into being friends, the answer was obviously no. He really liked those friends. Religion had nothing to do with their friendship.

Then I reminded him that he and I started reading the Maha Bharatha and that the Maha Bhartha is full of various Hindu deities. (Sadly, we didn't continue reading it, but we should.)

"Deities? As in plural?"

Yep. I said. Christianity has only one God. But there are and have been many religions with multi-deities or Gods. Who did he think Thor was then?

"Ahh.. There's Thor and Odin and Loki and Freya the rest."

Then there's Raa and Set and Amun and the rest. There's also Zeus, and Poseidon, and Hades, and the rest. Multitheism is very common.

Why people from early civilisations invented a horde to Gods has been a topic we had touched several times before. Thanks to Sophie's World by Jostein Gaarder I had been able to very descriptively explain to him the need for Gods of the early peoples.

They had no working knowledge of science. For the longest time, the world was thought to be flat. They didn't know how the world was created. We still don't know how the world was created. What we now have are calculated guesses by experienced scientists. What they had was a need to know just like us. So most major religions have a creation story. Imagination filling in the gaps of knowledge.

The early people didn't know how the seasons were created. So in Nordic countries, when Freya reigned supreme, it was Springtime. When she got kidnapped, Spring ended. For the Greek, when Persephone was above ground, it was Spring and when she was with Hades, it was Winter.

They didn't know how thunder and lightning happened. So for the Greeks it thundered when Zeus used his lightning bolt. For the Nordic, it thundered when Thor wielded his hammer.

Because of the many things which needed explaining, many deities were needed.

His next question was then, are we Buddhist? Because his paternal grandparents are Buddhist. His Paternal grandfather is the principal of a temple Sunday school. Because, our then nextdoor neighbour, I.e. his best friend's family are Buddhist. And he didn't know if he was.

So I explained to him how thaththi and I had been Buddhist most of our lives while having a Christian influence as kids, we longer practiced the traditions or rituals that identify one as Buddhist per se.

What does he want to be? He can be anything he wants. Only thing that we ask him is that before choosing one, read up on everything as much as he can. Be informed. Pick something which answers his questions. Something that makes him a better person. Something that agrees with his worldview. As a nine year old, his worldview right now is rather limited. But as he grows, I'm sure his worldview will grow with him.

"Can I be Egyptian?

Sure thing.

Can I be Greek?

Sure thing.

Because they're really cool.

Of course babi. (Did I mention he has read Rick Riordan way too much?)

They have magic. They have magic amma.

Yeah, exactly. They have magic. In most religions, Gods can do magicky things. So it's like reading a fantasy story isn't it? Most Gods can do feats that regular humans can't do.

So religion is like fantasy?

Yep.

Cool. Even Buddhism?

Yeah, even Buddhism. The stories may or may not have happened. So consider the stories fantasy. Take what you can from it and leave the rest for later. How about that?

Okay.

Okay? Even Hinduism?

Okay. Even Hinduism.

Your friend danced beautifully you know.

Ahhh!! All that jewelry and makeup. I couldn't recognise her. But I get what you mean, so yeah, okay."

P.s I realise that my worldview could very well be different from yours and the way we raise our children could be different from how you raise yours. And both you and I are okay.

Saku's Stories

FB Post 1

by

Sakunthala Ransrini Peiris

When I was small, I lived in a village. At least until I was ten, when I passed the government scholarship exam and moved to a school in Colombo. Even afterwards, almost all of my weekends and holidays were spent in the village. Our house was large, the garden even larger, with plenty of space for kids to run around in.

My childhood was spent playing outside with my sister. It was spent climbing trees and scaling walls. It was spent clambering to the rooftop for fun and cycling by myself through the village streets. As a child, I was unafraid. I was adventurous. I was wild and free and I ran rampant.

The days which weren't spent at home are still a too touchy a subject, and with your pardon I will broach it at some point in the future.

When I was halfway grown up, we moved to Summit Flats, smack dab in the middle of Colombo. And I got used to it. Used to the easy access to everything. Used to the enclosed space. Used to the tiny kitchen. Used to not living in Makandura under the vast open skies. And I got used to thinking that this was the way it should be.

After coming back home from work, stepping out for any reason was hardly ever done. I didn't even help thaththa cook or clean. I watched tv and ate and slept in the big dark room with my siblings.

Don't get me wrong. It was a good life. But I had forgotten the sky, the trees, and the grass.

Even after I got married and moved out, and into our own place, my thinking didn't change. We had a small garden, but I hardly stepped out.

And then battling with depression, being inside the house and being inside a room was immensely easier than stepping out anyway. For me handling that small space was somehow do-able than facing the green and the grass and the large mango tree in our garden. There is something comforting about being in a manageable space when you're battling with depression.

What didn't realise was that I was crippling my children, especially my eldest. My eldest with his heart of gold, my little philosopher, my little empath. My eldest, inside whom my heartbeats. He too was now getting too comfortable not stepping outside.

As for my little flower child, my little princess, who's got a piece of my soul, she follows her brother in everything.

We moved. We moved to a new house a month ago. Now we have a green green garden with grass to cushion little feeties. We are planting trees. And my babies are outside, all the time, just running about and playing. My eldest does his wizardry and hero prancing in the garden. He reads in the garden. My youngest runs around the garden with her lovely curls bouncing around her face.

They laugh when it gets windy. They run through the rain. They jump in puddles. They listen to birdsong in the mornings and admonish the little red-vented bulbul that comes inside the kitchen to peck away at their fruit.

And I watch. And now, with each step outside easier than the one before, I run outside and chase my children under the blue blue skies.

#sakurambleson