XMAS 2024

 

Knock on Wood

Knock on Wood

Befuddled minds walking,

A wolf baying, at the full moon;

Black cats crossing,

A broken mirror,

Seven years of pain;

No head bath, on Tuesdays,

Salt spills over, quick toss it back;

Shadows fall, luck turns bad;

Knock on wood, touch the charm,

Shun the evil, untold harm;

Living by signs of celestial orbs,

Chasing phantoms, pillar to post;

The ladder leans, they step aside,

Reason fades, in fear they hide;

What of truth, where has it gone?

To darkened corners, away, forlorn;

In the grip of myth they behold,

Selling their sense, losing their soul;

Clinging hard to fables untold,

Believing in wives’ tales of old;

Dancing with dread in twilight’s glow,

Reason vanishes silliness grows;

Offering flowers, jewels and gold,

Hoping for rewards from myths and bones;

Common sense gone, intelligence sold,

Man sinks into his own black hole.

Hearts trapped and chained by fear,

Brainwashed by the superstitious seer;

In absurdities minds are blinded,

While truth is clear, unchained, refined.

Oct 17 2024 

Bridge at First Sight

 Bridge at First Sight

Chess was the name of the game during my primary school years in the 50s in Colombo. It was more like a war game where the object of the exercise was to ring down the opponents king. The excitement the game generated, pumping the adrenalin and sending the mind into a kaleidoscopic world of permutations, combinations and what-if’s was simply out of this world. The challenge was even more overwhelming.

And so we played.

Playing cards, mainly at home, was purely a fun thing. We played 3-cards, rummy, asking-hitting, patience, and 304. Most times it was with the family members and cousins who came over to stay on weekends. Never did we gamble. It was all just for fun using chips.

Our gang of friends in the 60s, comprised the late Sada, the late Lal, the late Sumith, (may they all rest in peace), Anura, Haji, Rizvi and my younger brother Firoze. We came together most weekends at our home at #300 in Bambalapitiya where everyone would gather to figure out how to spend the say. Sada, Sumith, Haji, and Lal had vehicles which came in very handy for long drives and excursions out of Colombo.

However, the main catalyst that kept the gang together was Bridge. The game actually evolved from 304 which is a kind of lesser version of the game involving bidding and playing. Yet, Bridge was a totally different animal. The world championships were on and monitoring the play in the newspapers, seeping through the bids and play, and trying hard to learn the game was always exciting.

Soon, the whole gang became experts using the conventional Goren bidding system 4 card opening. Blackwood was a significant part of asking for Aces. Sometimes it went wrong and partners used to kill each other across the table.

And then one fine January, day when I entered the University of Colombo to start my degree program in Physical Science in 1967, I found Bridge again. She was still so very beautiful. She still is. And I fell in love with her all over again.

“Have you ever played bridge before?” one of the guys asked.

Mumbling I had to admit that I knew how to play but was not an expert.

Good,” he said smiling. “We can teach you.”

Every break, in the cafeteria on Thurstan Road, we used to come together around a table for four and play until the next class was on. The late Waraney (Asoka), was a keen player who was also very good at it.

At the time, I was 19 years old and didn’t know anyone my age who played bridge at this advanced level. Our old Bridge gang at 300 was purely a fun filled play with no one even attempting to take the game to the next level. These guy’s enthusiasm and commitment to promoting the game to its highest portal was infectious, so I agreed to participate in the daily sessions, worried that they would laugh at my novice play.

From then on nothing was stopping me. Bought a few books on Bridge and started learning new systems. Standard American, Precision, and the many intriguing conventions came into play. Remembering all of them was tough but continuous play, making mistakes along the way, made me a scholar.

It’s now been almost 60 years now since my bridge meet-cute, and all those awesome friends and colleagues had come together to indulge in this wonderful pastime.

Online bridge on BBO portal has come alive now and one can play sitting at home with real people from across the world. I spend at least 3 to 4 hours daily, now that I am retired, paying BBO. It is so refreshing, invigorating, exciting and still learning, too.

This is one love affair that will never end.

Fazli / Aug 2024

Lexie

 Personal Statement to Harvard Law School

 

Sri Lanka is a multiethnic and multireligious society with much diversity to celebrate. Yet, difference and the fear of the ‘other’ have also underscored its many crises. I too have personally encountered a great deal of prejudice. My first challenge in life came in my infancy when I was abandoned by a household due to my mixed pedigree. The trauma this episode caused me is difficult to convey even today. I was extremely fortunate to be fostered by an adoring family, who have since provided me with every opportunity to flourish. My childhood trauma has, however, left me with anxiety over abandonment, which occasionally manifests when my mother travels overseas leaving me to be tended to by the domestic staff.

The many trials I have encountered during my life have prompted me to think deeply about how legal institutions can help bring about crucial reform. I, therefore, wish to embark on a career in law, so I can give back to my society and strengthen the legal protection of the rights of those less fortunate than me.

Academic excellence was always a major priority in my home. I finished top of my class and graduated magna cum laude at the prestigious Pet Vet Puppy Socialisation School in 2021. Thereafter, I went on to study under the tutelage of Wing Commander Priyantha from the Sri Lanka Air Force who has groomed me into becoming a future leader. On the extracurricular front, I was coached by my father, a former test cricketer, who has taught me everything I know about sprinting and ball retrieval. My other hobbies include garden excavations and listening to classical music. In fact, I often vet chamber musicians of the Symphony Orchestra of Sri Lanka. I am also an active member of the local community watch and have been instrumental in ensuring that antisocial elements feel unwelcome on the streets of Colpetty.

I believe I am an ideal candidate to attend Harvard Law School and have selected this esteemed institution for several reasons. First, its global classroom and illustrious faculty will offer me a rich and demanding environment to pursue my passion for the law. I am particularly interested in studying animal rights with a focus on the inclusion of animal companions under condominium law. Second, one of my dreams is to live and study in a place with permanent air-conditioning. The crisp weather in Cambridge, Massachusetts is ideal in terms of fulfilling this lifelong ambition.

Upon my return, I hope to work towards reforming Sri Lanka’s condominium law, so the younger generation – many of whom are compelled to live in apartments – can have the privilege of adopting intelligent and charismatic companions, such as me. I also intend to be an active member of the Harvard Alumni Society in Sri Lanka. I hope to ensure that the Society opens its doors to canine alumni and will aim to limit membership to those who have completed a degree at Harvard. I sincerely hope that Harvard considers investing in my future, as I know I can reinvest my learning and skills towards pawsitive change in my country.

 

Lexie the Labrador

31 August 2024

Q

 Two Queues in Paradise

 

That day the queue stretches out for about a kilometer and a half.

‘That’s not bad! Last time we came, it went past the passport office place and all the way down Kanatte road.’

‘My God, really?  What - about hundred cars?’

‘Mad? Easily two hundred.’

Her eyes widen, and her lips, full and pink, form a perfect ‘O’.

He wishes he had more interesting queue facts to tell her so that he could see those lips forming that ‘O’ shape again.

They had met while waiting in queues.

He in his employer’s chocolate-brown Kia, with its fuel tank needle hovering just above the ‘E’ mark. With petrol being issued in unpredictable spurts, Chandu Sir, his boss, said it was better just to stay put in one queue rather than burn the precious liquid driving around the city searching for petrol sheds with shorter queues. This time around, the situation was far worse than the last time they filled the tank up. Then, the government had just received a credit line from India and spent most of it on petrol and diesel.

‘At some point a bowser will unload here. Till then, you just park and wait.’ Those were Chandu Sir’s words to him when he saw him last.

Actually, he didn’t mind. It was better than driving Chandu Sir’s wife, Swarna Madam, around Colombo, parking in gigantic shopping mall basement car parks waiting interminably for her to finish her shopping or her gym workout or meeting her friends, an equally rich group of women who seemed to have nothing better to do. He hated that because he invariably got lost in those underground mazes and received a tongue-lashing from her because he failed to pick her up either at the precise moment she emerged, or at the exact exit, A, B, C or D or whatever, laden with bags labelled with famous designer’s names. He winced as he remembered how once, desperate for a pee, he left the car to hunt for a toilet, to find that he had left his mobile behind in the car and upon his return there had been no less than eight missed calls from her. Although, he had to admit, with the recent fuel shortages and the looming economic crisis, her shopping expeditions had been somewhat curtailed, if only because Chandu Sir seemed to be keeping a strict eye on the usage of petrol by the two vehicles he owned : the Kia, and of course, the BMW that only he (Chandu Sir) drove.

She is queueing to obtain a passport. The passport office is situated right behind the petrol shed and it was inevitable that the two snaking queues would run parallel for at least part of their courses. And now, with the office closed for the night and no petrol being issued at the shed, the movement of both queues had ground to halt.

Cyprus. That’s where she had set her sights. He doesn’t even know where Cyprus is, only that it isn’t in the Middle East – or is it? He isn’t sure and doesn’t like to ask, in case she thinks he is ignorant. He can’t remember ever learning about Cyprus at school. From what she says, it seems like a paradise. Can’t be, of course. What could be better than this luscious green country that is their home? He sighs. But that was before all these problems, of course. Things have changed now. But surely, the situation can only get better? It can’t get worse than this, right? There are still millions of his countrymen and women who believe that. Otherwise, everyone would want to leave! He looks at the queue winding around the passport office building and disappearing into the darkness. Although, now, it does look as if everyone is leaving. She, along with thousands of others, who are in search of a new, better life. A life where you didn’t have to wait in line for hours ˗ sometimes days ˗ to obtain a cylinder of cooking gas to prepare meals for her mother and brothers. A life where a kilogram of rice didn’t cost a third of her mother’s daily wage as a cleaner. A life where people didn’t drop dead while standing for hours, can in hand, to buy a litre of kerosene. She explains all this to him while they squat side by side on the edge of the hard, concrete pavement next to the Kia.

So, she is queueing to avoid queues, he thinks to himself, but avoids saying it out aloud. She wouldn’t appreciate the irony. Personally, he thinks she is mad. Leaving her family behind to travel thousands of miles to work as what - a housemaid? A cleaner? Not knowing what might lie ahead, or whom she would end up working for. He thinks of the little cubicle with the foldable camp bed that is his lodgings. He is lucky to have a place to stay in Colombo completely rent-free. Chandu Sir had been kind enough to convert the old store room into a makeshift bedroom, the only hitch being having to share a bathroom with the crotchety old crone who functioned as the cook. And getting meals also.

But doesn’t he want to escape all this, she asks him, like the hundreds who turned up before the dawn broke that day to stand in line to hand over applications for new passports. He explains that he has a good job, he’s paid fifty thousand a month in addition to getting free accommodation and food. He didn’t really have a problem with gas or kerosene or things like that because his employer took care of him.

But what happens when you get married and start a family, she asks. Then you will have to provide for them, see that your wife has enough provisions to prepare meals, see that your children have a way of getting to school. Can you do that with salary you are being paid now? He isn’t really concentrating on her questions, for at the mention of the words ‘family’ and ‘wife’ he immediately imagines starting a family with her and that sends his thoughts hurtling in unexpected directions.

What is he thinking? Of course it could never happen. Not with her being thousands of miles away in a strange country and him stuck in Colombo, behind the wheel of the Kia. It’s just his luck. Finally meeting a girl he even half-considers spending the rest of his life with, to find she is on her way out of the country. 

Of course, if she were to abandon her dream to work in Cyprus and come and work with him, in Chandu Sir’s house… Swarna Madam had mentioned something about wanting someone to help with the housework, because Agnes the old crone was now past it. Of course he couldn’t say that to her. Not after just meeting her and talking to her for less than an hour. He didn’t really know her well enough for that.  But how he wanted to! He could just picture her in his little cubicle.

Now, if they were a couple it would work out just fine, him being the driver and her working in the house. They would have to get a bigger bed of course. He blushes at the thought, and turns his face away so she doesn’t notice. As if she would have! It’s a dark moonless night and the only illumination comes from the dim street lights that dot the road behind the passport office at infrequent intervals.

He does mention it to her. After they talk for what seems like hours but when he checks his watch, it’s just ninety minutes. About their families, the schools they had been to, her best friend Dilki who’s already in Cyprus, sending back 80k a month to her family. It was this Dilki who had put the idea into her head, obviously, he thinks, taking a violent dislike to the unknown friend who was responsible for taking this angel away, far away from him.

He shakes himself. He must be going mad. What’s the point of taking his frustration out on this distant friend of hers? It is then that he tells her what Swarna Madam said, that she was looking for someone, someone to do some housework, take care of the washing and the ironing. Someone reliable and trustworthy. (Not even to do the washing themselves, there was a washing machine for that of course. Just to take the clothes out and hang them out to dry. How easy was that!) It is just the two of them, he says, the couple. The son is in university in Australia and comes back once a year for the holidays. And even then the boy is out of the house most of the time. He doesn’t say anything about Swarna Madam being a right old bitch, of course. Deep in his heart he actually imagines that his offer would sway her. Madness, of course. She has only one thing on her mind. And that is, to get out of this country as fast as possible.

He observes her slight figure and slim arms from the corner of his eye. Would she be able to cope with whatever job she landed, he worries. Some of these places were known to treat their employees almost like slaves, he had heard.

The smell of food ˗ fried onions ˗ wafts through his nostrils. A cart trundles their way.

Something to eat? He gets to his feet slowly, joints stiff after sitting crouched like that for so long. Without thinking, he extends his hand to her and she places hers in his as if it is the most natural thing in the world.

He feels it then, the electricity. The tingling current that starts in his hand and shoots straight to his heart and then… to other parts of his body.

He pulls her to her feet and she jumps up, laughing. He is still distracted by what he just felt. Was that… love? Or what? Could you just fall in love like that, on a gloomy moonless night, looking at your worst, on a crowded pavement littered with sleeping bodies and empty Milo cartons? With someone you just met two hours ago? And whose face you could hardly see in the darkness?

I wouldn’t mind, she says. I did bring some food but I can give it my aunt. She gestures at a sleeping figure stretched out on a rolled out mat close by.

You brought mats?

Yes of course. We heard that we would have to be here all night.

They walk to the food cart. She’s vegetarian, she tells him, and insists on prising the fried prawn off the vadé before eating it. She offers it to him, laughing. Here, an extra prawn for you. She insists on paying for her share of the food. He is surprised. Most of the girls he knows would have been happy to just let the man pay.

Was she also feeling it, he wonders, as they munch on the vadés, leaning against the Kia. This warm glow that drove away the tiredness, the boredom, that staying in these unending queues usually entailed. He wouldn’t mind if the petrol bowser never turned up. Or if the passport office never opened its doors in the morning.

But of course they do. The bowser arrives first, and word passes down the queue. The weary drivers rub their bleary eyes, start up their vehicles, and the queue inches forward slowly. But not before they exchange telephone numbers and make a tentative plan to meet up again. When – say in a week’s time? Where? At the bakery opposite the petrol shed, perhaps? The short eats were known to be tasty and there was a private area upstairs where they could chat undisturbed. You could order your food from a menu like in a posh restaurant. Awkwardly, they say goodbye, and in the rearview mirror he glimpses her as the Kia slowly moves up the queue in the dim glow of dawn. She lifts a hand and waves. He waves back, unable to explain the feeling of absolute desolation that comes over him as her figure grows smaller and is swallowed in the crowd that is now stirring.

                                                                        *

The walls of the room upstairs in the bakery are painted a garish red. It is occupied by a group of noisy youngsters, but fortunately they have just finished eating and they leave.  

Would she come? His fingers tap the blue plastic folder on the table in front of him like a drum. He thinks about what he is going to say to her when she turns up. If she turns up of course! How long should he wait for her?

The waitress flings a menu onto the table, pulls out a notebook.

He tells her he is waiting for a friend. She nods. Okay, I’ll come back in a little while.

He glances through the menu. It looks tempting. There are colour photographs of the food items.  There’s plenty of vegetarian options also.

Sorry, it was so hard to get a three-wheeler! I’m late, I know.

He looks up and there she is. His heart sings. She came! In the bright light of day she looks different from that night. Her eyes are closer together than he remembers, and he notices a sprinkling of pimples on her cheeks.  But he is still glad that he made this decision.

No problem. He stands, waits till she is seated, sits down again.

She looks at him shyly, asks how he got here. In your boss’s car?

He shakes his head. No, I also took a three-wheeler.

She nods. Of course.  I’m sure he doesn’t let you use it for your personal trips.

Now is the time to tell her. He takes a deep breath.

No. That’s the thing. There’s no car now.

She looks at him, puzzled. No car? But you were driving it, no? That day in the queue.

He leans forward. There’s no car now because I don’t work for them anymore.

Her hand flies to her mouth. What do you mean?

I quit! I got fed up with that woman. His wife. Always shouting at me. That day. After queueing for so long. Yelled at me because she couldn’t go for her morning yoga class. I had enough.

But what are you going to do?

I’m coming also.

Coming where?

To Cyprus! With you. He pushes the folder forward. I’ve done the application. I’ll hand it in tomorrow.

You gave up your job?

They have plenty of vacancies for drivers. I checked. You just have to do a driving test there. There’s this agent. I have some savings, I can pay him-  

He breaks off, looking at her face.  I thought you would be happy. You were telling me I should also apply.

            She shakes her head. When she speaks next, her voice trembles. I failed my medical.. the blood tests. There was a problem. My blood counts. They can treat it but it will take a few months. I’ll have to repeat the medical and try again… I don’t know what I’ll do now. I need to start working as soon as possible. My mother hasn’t been able to go to work because of the petrol shortage.

She looks him in the eye. l thought I can come and work with you. Help your madam with the washing and ironing… you said…

But ˗ you said you didn’t want to stay in this country… Cyprus is like a paradise…

And you said… her voice trails off.

The waitress comes up to the table, flips a few pages of a notebook and takes a pencil out of her pocket.

They turn their heads, look at her.

So, are you ready to order? What do you want?

They stare at her in silence.

Carmel Miranda / Aug 31 2024

In Rio

IN RIO 

Chapter 1

 Sitting across her and looking intently into her face, I observed the contours, the long eyelashes, deep brown eyes and hair cascading down to her shoulders. 

Her heritage was clearly visible in those fine features. 

Her beauty hadn’t really gotten my attention before.

 Maybe it was the afternoon sun bouncing off her hair and the perfume she was wearing that caught me off-guard.

I felt a tenderness creeping in (until this moment, thoughts of Paula hadn’t crossed my mind at all. I tried to shake it off, I was just having lunch with a friend, so I thought)!

 It was only the other day I was finishing my shift and she was starting hers and I casually said “Hello Alysha, how are you today?” “Good, how are you”, Dominic? She replied. And I said, “You are doing well, I’ve been making a note of it, keep it up!” “Really, (she was smiling up at me and wiping a table top), I like it here, the people and customers are nice. Tips are great too! I smiled back. I was about to walk away, when she called out, “Dominic, you know it’s my birthday on Wednesday next week. I am not planning anything.” “Ok, I said, how about I take you to lunch then?” “Sure, why not?” she said, blushing slightly.

 Maybe I’ll find a way around to take the day off and also ensure my boss doesn’t get wind of it! It was the policy at Vera Garden Restaurant’s that we do not date employees! But I couldn’t disappoint Alysha! I would have to drive out of our little town to ensure we weren’t seen at lunch by anyone known.

The reservations were made at the Providence ahead of time. I thought it would be a nice place for lunch as they served some delectable fresh cuisine and really great tasting wines too!

Glad to be here in Alysha’s company. She was glowing! Was it the dress, showing off her well-toned skin and bare shoulders? I felt lucky but this was her special moment.  The nice chilled white wine and starter of succulent oysters in half shells would help to set the mood. The flavour and aroma were taking over.

We chatted easily about her family origins when she backtracked to her girlhood spent in Spain and moved to her life and ties here in LA.

Work was back in a smaller town in El’ Rio, we both felt good about how work was panning out, I had hired her 3 months ago. Seeing her there almost daily had made an impression on me. Alysha’s easy attitude, sort of uncomplicated nature was growing on me. She was a good few years younger than me.

 The past eight years and all the escapades I had gotten into and which I hadn’t quite talked about even with Paula was best left in the past. I have a new life now so it won’t hurt me to shut–up! Those subconscious thoughts and feelings which I had I fought hard to bury ‘ços it didn’t do me any good, suddenly re- surfaced. This thing I was feeling made me shift uncomfortably in my seat. Yeah, it was thoughts of Paula, she was somewhere in Mexico wasn’t she?

And I couldn’t even remember.

Alysha had commanded my whole attention, what was it?

 If you take a good long look at me, at one glance, you’ll size me up as a 30 year old Sri Lankan man of average height and a slight stocky build, who had come to America to fulfil my dreams! I had some achievements to my credit. I had climbed higher up the career ladder and she was just starting out! I had not dated many girls, just Paula at this point, (there were many one night stands maybe, not dates definitely. I wasn’t used to that) and Alysha and I weren’t on a date, really. I deluded myself.

 Lunch was a course of Salt roasted Split Prawns with Risotto and asparagus.

She thanked me for lunch as she reached up and gave me a slight kiss on my cheek. I waved her off, and said that it was fine

We headed back to Il’ Rio and back to our lives as Manager and Stewardess. The conversation during our drive back was pleasant. 

Angela Gnaniah Mar 2020

To AI or Not to AI

 To AI or Not To AI

Mankind has evolved, throughout history, with a terrible sense of the fear of the unknown, until such time as they are reasonably comfortable that what really was not apparent then is definitely something of value now. When typewriters were first invented of scribes across the world went up in arms claiming that this new “technology” would drive them out of their livelihoods. We saw the same scenario play out when word-processing entered our domain and the poor secretary had to be laid to rest. Yes, many jobs went out of the window. However, new roles emerged with training and education. Re-training was the order of the day. Finally, the MD was sending out his own mail. Thanks to AOL, Hotmail, Yahoo, and Google.

Every new invention or technology, development has always brought fears in the hearts and minds of people. That is inevitable I believe in a species who can think for themselves and analyze situations making their own conclusions about the good, bad, and ugly of the possible outcomes. Every new gadget that evolves with time also has its own merits and demerits. Some people don’t een change cars after they have put all their confidence into their old faithful Morris Minor, Peugeot, or Volkwagen.

When TV was first introduced in Saudi Arabia the Mullah’s all rose up against this new innovation, claiming that it had the potential of feeding evil into the minds of the people. The wise, late King Feisal, at the time, asked the TV station to broadcast the recitation of the Qur’an on TV and the anti-TV brigade backed off. Today, TV is one of the prime sources of information, across the globe, although we are fully aware that it can also be used to broadcast negativity, pornography, and other doctored material that may have adverse effects on growing minds.

Now AI has entered the stage. Many voices who understand the technology, its workings, capabilities, and advantages are more than willing to grab it with both hands and make maximum use of its mammoth potential. Another set of people are grappling with the fear that this will be a monster who will take over our world and make us its slave. Some even believe that AI will eventually feel emotion and develop consciousness, and create its own soul. Phew!

All of these fears are totally unfounded. Of course there will always be unpredictable outcomes with any new technology or device. The real danger is based on how we make use of it for the benefit of mankind. It is vital to understand the capabilities and limitations of AI, and develop ethical guidelines for its effective use to ensure that it benefits society as a whole.

The key to acceptance is awareness. The unknown may look scary. But, as my late grandpa always taught me, “never ventured, never won”.

*

Fazli 

The Chair

 The Chair

Come, take my place on that chair

Rule my life but please be fair

Make your laws and make us obey

It's for our good, well that is what they say

Go, speak on my behalf in that place

I appointed you to run my race

All my dreams are in your hands

To guard and replenish my land

Do, what is right on our behalf

Stand tall and lead thy people with thy staff

Protect us from the enemy without

Only, bread and water we ask, in times of drought

Make our dreams yours

Isn't that what you spoke?

Promises you made before you sat on the chair

But something about it has made us despair

It was only yesterday that you sat on that chair

You have sucked us dry and divided us beyond repair

The power we gave you was to enrich our lives

Yes we all dreamed of better times

Do people change when they sit on that chair?

Is there anyone worthy to take up my prayer?

We will drive you out from our midst

Yet we know another villain will take your place

Amar -November 2018

A Human Dilemma

 A Human Dilemma

Which came first,

Sex or Gender?

The Biological State?

The Social Construct?

Chromosomes,

Testosterones,

Dress Codes,

Behavior?

Parliamentarians clash,

Judges deliver edicts;

Finally,

A President exhorts

"It is legal cannibalism"

To deny the species

Of the right to choose

Whatever they want to be;

He, She or It.

Fazli Sameer/June 2024

Sharing Grief

 Sharing Grief

 

Throw everyone’s problem

In a pile on a Table

Soon you will take yours back;

Listen to the woes

Of grief stricken people

Help lessen their stack;

A grief one has shared

Is a pain that is halved

Help them to stay on track;

Actions, they speak

Louder than words

Slowly healing the crack.

 

Fazli Sameer / Sat Feb 24 2024