A Mid Summer Wedding

When my cousin did a last minute announcement about his wedding in Colombo,  I was  partially panicky and excited. Panicky coz I realized I would hardly get a day between my Boston and Colombo trip resulting in my displaying my hyperactive best. My friends and family can vouch that my hyperactive self is best avoided. But I was also excited as this would be the first Buddhist wedding I would attend.

Finally after my customary travel related drama I was in my beloved Colombo. Again travel related drama and me have had a thirty year steady relationship, so I was sort of prepared for it. Having landed just one day before the wedding, I didn’t have much to do. But to my pleasant surprise I discovered that Buddhist weddings are short, simple and sweet.  Thereby, bringing down the usual pre-wedding chaos by a significant amount.

The sister and I decided to go all Sri Lankan and wear the traditional Kandyan saree.  This involved a complex saree tying process and about forty pins. Thereby ensure I couldn’t breathe or move but I did feel rather fancy. So I guess it was worth it.

The main part of the wedding is an entourage of Kandyan dancers, drummers and conch blowers escorting the bride and groom in individually. This ceremony is done with the dancers performing the traditional dance while singing the customary wedding songs.  I totally loved this part. Most of the meaning of the songs were lost on me and my rudimentary Sinhala. But I guestimated they were welcoming the bride and groom.

This was followed by the main poruwa ceremony. Which was a relatively short ceremony which included the couple’s fingers being tied together with string, exchanging of gifts between the families and all elders blessing the couple.  It also involved a lot of falling at a lot of feet. My heart went out to the bride who I could see was struggling to fall at people s feet in all her bridal finery. And in about half an hour ta-da! They were married. If only all weddings were this quick!

This was followed by cake…

And champagne…

And a huge spread of food and more champagne and a lot of dancing. Did I mention I love Sri Lankan weddings?

500 days of summer

Colombo is underwater. We are sitting on the verandah of my grandparents house and watching the pool of water which until a few days ago was our lawn. My sister is cursing the rains which has deprived her of a visit to the mall. My aunt is cursing some cousin who has apparently betrayed her trust.

I hear the baker on his tricycle with his trade mark tring tring come down the street. Rain or shine, the "bread man" is at our doorstep every afternoon. And every afternoon my aunt buys me a sticky chocolate doughnut. She feels its her duty to carry one what my grandmother used to do. I have no heart to tell her that i actually hate the doughnut. As a child the only reason i insisted on those chocolaty buns was to squash it between my fingers till chocolate oozed all over. A messy ritual that annoyed my mother to no end.

My aunt is ranting about the evil cousin, but i am more focussed on trying to figure out what those little silver balls on doughnuts are called. I know i am going to be asked for an opinion so I start paying attention to the rants. My aunt exclaims in her exasperated fashion that just when you think you know someone they spring a surprise on you. I pause midway through my chocolate bun examination as I realize this is exactly what I had been thinking about a few days ago. Except mine was on a slightly more positive note. Have you ever had a friend who you sort of knew on a "hello how is the weather" basis. And never really ventured beyond that. But one fine day you really get to talk to this person and voila you actually have a wonderful conversation. You realize this friend is like that box on your loft - full of surprises and you wonder why you never saw that before. This enlightenment may be because your finally taking time out or may be its just Facebook. What ever it is, I'm raising my doughnut to the little surprises in life.
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Better super late than never

I know I am slightly late with this post, but then somebody said its always better late than never. So keeping to tradition, here is what 2009 was to me

People: Made new friends, lost a couple of old ones to time and distance. Most importantly I learned that you can never know anyone too well.

Places: Though the travel gods amused themselves by messing up a few of my plans, I did good. Visited three beautiful countries and realized travel can teach you so much. Like Twain said " Travel is hazardous for narrow mindedness". Or something like that.

Beginnings and ends: I spent a good deal of time in hospitals and came to respect doctors and nurses a whole lot more. And also fear a few. The time spent here made me realize that titling your blog Carpe Diem didn't cut it. You really have to seize the moment or your going to really sorry. It was a much needed wake up call. As a result I shocked a lot of people including myself by giving up my job and deciding to experiment on my own.

28: I am for the first time in my life actually feeling my age. Still deciding if that is a good thing or not. I had my moments when life felt like the rubic cube. But of late I have come to realize that you dont have get over some heart breaks and losses. Learning to live with it is good enough.

So that was my rather mixed year. 2010 here I come!

The boy who could braid

Waiting for my luggage at the Colombo airport, I happened to glance at the billboard for a brand of men's suits. The brand ambassador a stocky young men dressed entirely in black shot you a lopsided smile. Apparently he was the island's leading talk show host- claimed the ad. I wouldn't have given the picture a second glance, if the name at the bottom hadn't caught my eye. I did a double take to ensure I read the name right. " This couldn't possibly be D" was my first reaction. But when I looked at the picture closely I could see faint traces of a boy I once knew.

I met D years ago during one of my many summer trips to Colombo. My aunt was in charge of her school's participation in a dramatics contest. Managing a bunch of 15 year boys was not easy and I used to tag along to play helper. D stood out among the noisy and boisterous lot. Overweight and incredibly shy , he was an easy target for the class bullies. The fact that he had to walk around in a skirt for his role never helped his case. While the rest of the boys played cricket during the breaks, D always sat in a corner braiding. Yes braiding. He would braid pieces of thread, wigs from the costume cupboard and even tussles on the table cloth. They were the most beautiful braids I have seen till date.

When curiosity got the better of me I asked where he learned to braid so well. After what seemed like an eternity of silence. He told his story.D's dad was a doctor in the war struck north. When he was seven their town became an unwilling battlefield. With the army on side and terrorists on the other, the town was completely cut off from the rest of the island.D's dad a doctor used to walk around the town in the nights administering his patients. Unfortunately for him, he caught an infection and died.

With the battle still raging, his mother had to wait for things to calm down to give his father a proper burial. while they sat in the ghost house waiting, his mother started to braid and un-braid her hair in a monotonous trance. Little D who sat by her watching, followed suit on a tussled cloth. Deeply scarred by those events, his braiding habit grew to be his security blanket.

His response was not what I expected. I felt terribly guilty for having dug up his past. Those days being pre-facebook times, I lost touch with him over time.



Staring at that billboard at the airport, the image of D in mind was so different.
I could still picture him as the shy boy who glared at his classmate nemesis above his glasses rather than through and stuttered- " I'm going to be big some day and you are going to be sorry". And he kept his word.

Walking out of the airport that day, it gave me a happy high to know that the stars were shining down on my old fried.

Cinnamon Island

When my friends proposed a reunion at Galle, I was all excited. The ancient seaport has always been a place I wanted to visit. And I was hoping to atleast catch a glimpse of the famed Taprobane island hotel. An hundred year old dutch house on a private island. How exotic is that! Someday Im dragging an unsuspecting husband/boy friend there.

Unfortunately a tsunami warning ensured all plans were shelved. My friend suggested a boat safari to Cinnamon island. No tourist guide on Sri Lanka talks about it and I soon realized it didnt even have Google hits. I was apprehensive, but decided to go along. Boy was I in for a suprise!

Cinnamon island is one the sixty four islands that dot the Madhu ganga river. Sixty four little islands within one of the world's smallest island countries - that was not something I expected. The boat safari took us through this beautiful river and breathtaking mangroves. we got to hop off at two islands. The first stop was cinnamon island- a tiny island that is home to a cinnamon plantation. You get to try your hand at extracting cinnamon and much to my surprise fresh cinnamon tastes nothing like what you get in stores.

Our next stop was Koth Doowa island. This island houses a quaint Buddhist temple and a monastery. Apart from the two monks who eyed as warily, the island is home to a bunch of giant jam squirrels. An animal I hadn't even heard of till that day.

Despite the eerie looking river monitors (again an animal I hadn't heard of) we decided to end the boat safari with a swim in the river. It was day full of surprises and realizations that I am quite zoologically challenged. This is definitely a boat ride Im doing again :)

Colombo Calling

Welcome to the island of Sri Lanka " drones the air hostess in her most bored tone. But I am feeling far from bored. I am feeling too many things actually. Excited about returning to my city of birth after years. Guilty that I am taking time off. Anxious - Thirteen visits to Sri Lanka and first time with no war looming overhead. Relieved that I am far away from the daily shuttle between office and hospital. But most of all happy that I will be seeing friends and family that I have missed dearly

Thirteen days is too short a time frame to visit the city you love but its also a rather long time for a corporate slave. More posts from the Emerald Isle to follow

Far from the maddening crowd

Taprobane. Serendib. Ceylon. Sri Lanka. Call it what you may. Its far from the choas of the last few weeks. And thats all I need at the moment :)