Category Archives: life

Immortal at last

(It happened to me last night)
I was late, and that was all I knew. Not that my mother had reason to be worried anymore, no, I could very easily have found my way back home-thankfully, I was then not the same person I’d been earlier. But tonight was to be very different. 
The road was long and hard, and as I walked along the pavement I thought only of a good meal and a good night’s sleep. But what awaited me would shock the very foundations of what I felt about my country.
I had never expected him to take me home.
The first three-wheeler I could find, small but not at all a rickety little thing. I do not remember what colour it was; maybe my mind sometimes pushed aside what I felt was irrelevant. 
He was open to conversation, and not merely about something useless and commonplace. 
Perhaps he sensed what I was on about. 
Perhaps he knew that I was closed off to anything senseless like the words of his fellow drivers. His words poured out to me like an open book, and I read it all. Hatred for a government that did not recognize his, and his brother’s services. Or those of anyone who’d served alongside him in the hellish north. 
He spoke of the enemy being mowed down, of civilians being taken to safety from their former posts as shields of flesh. And as he spoke, my heart ached for the horror he had to put himself through. To have his memory swept under history’s vast carpet by men who sat in rooms and debated on television. This was his reality. We all yearn for a chance at immortality. He probably did too, after his injury. His brother and he had been on the front lines when the monster met his bitter death. 
The government, a powerful organization, had made their displays on wealth and fame to the common man. Turned them into fighting machines who loved their country. It was their Sri Lanka, the land worth fighting for, to rescue it from thirty years beneath the demon’s yoke.
I do not remember his eyes or his face, but I knew that within, he cried. 
Like the true soldier he was, he did not show it.
Just the invisible tears running down the walls of his inner being. 
He had wished for peace.
But not after thirty brutal years. The decades would probably become nothing more to our vast, evolving world, subtle as a passing nightmare from whence our Mother would awake. His story though, will live on within me. His nightmares still arc across his heart and soul as he sleeps. He will be immortal. 

Peace

Such a strange word it is

Pieces of which we are given
During various stages
Of our lives
For the full image
We have to fight
Quite ironic, it is
But isn’t life too like that?
We live to die
This word though
It’s meaning
People argue over
‘It is this’
Says one
‘It is that’
Says another
They fight
First with words
Then with weapon
More deadly
And they go on fighting
Not realizing
Each fight
Each battle
Each war
Drains this word
This created idea
This seemingly nonexistent condition
And yet we seek
Under rock after rock
Through ocean after ocean
Beyond sky after sky
And finally we find it
At the end of the race
When epiphany ends
Sansara’s never ending game
When realization dawns
And life ceases to be

Ode to the Sky IX

A series which began as a tribute to the sky that unites us all, has now ended. Yes, what started as a one-time thing has become a long-running series that defines our work. We may never know what shades and hues the sky will take next. Thus it is beautiful in all its great mysteries. In our final Ode, we explore the skies in their long journey, with pics from the depths of time to the farthest reaches of space.
Yes, outer space indeed.
So let’s call this one an “Ode to the Stars” as a special. Of course we do have one from the Earth’s own history as well, so we haven’t exactly been highly um….consistent with this short, fast ode.
The message of peace is universal, and transcends the very continuum of time and space. Nobody craves war, or misunderstanding.

All artworks here are courtesy of myself-http://vasix.deviantart.com/ and will not be used without my prior permission.

They are all digital pics done with Photoshop, a very old-as-crap version, but I’m a poor man after all  :).

Poem by: Rochelle Silva

The Star
Burning bright, ever so bright,
It loomed ahead in the darkest night.
Ruling the skies; a feast to the eyes,
A frenzy of thoughts did arise.
A radiant star, beckoning from afar,
Guided kings and shepherds alike.
A star did nestle, close to a crescent,
Being a symbol to the faithful worldwide.
Sacred it is, if with six points apiece,
Meaning “Shakthi” and “Shiva” in peace.
And yet to another, fate does it usher,
Deciding whether one enjoys or suffers.
Burning bright, ever so bright,
Oh little star, if only you knew,
How precious thou art, no matter our caste,
A beacon of hope to our troubled hearts!

Poem by: Shailee Wick

He hides from the world

In his rank smelling tower
High up in the mountains
As close to the skies as he can get
He looks through the glass
Beyond clouds and skies
At the great abyss of darkness
Brightened by stars galore
And he smiles as his eyes
Follow one blinking star after another
And he whispers slowly
“The end is here”
In the yellow journal, notes of his life
Hide one prediction, worthy of being written in gold
“I look at the stars and I know it is here
An end to this hatred, wars and fear.
Soon like the faraway clouds of dust
The world will once more know how to love”

Quote by: Vindya Jayasinghe

“Whenever I look up the sky, I feel I’m free and open, I may never reach it, but I will always look up and see the beauty, believe in it and try to follow where it leads…”

Poem by: Vijini Mallawaarachchi
Stellar Thought

Gazing above the airspace
In the hours of darkness
Expecting a shooting star
To make a wish for good

As midnight rises
Imagination comes to life
Wondering what would be there
Which is not known to us

Stars that twinkle above
Painting the darkness in vivid colours
Making up figures of myths
That we name as constellations

Some are newborn white dwarfs
Some are dying neutron stars
Just like us, they have a life
Which will end in a supernova

Through the dust and gas
Among interstellar spaces
Floating across nebulae
Destiny can be glimpsed

The mind can travel
Imagining the undiscovered
With the wish for a star-gate
To dial across the universe



Poem by: Priyangwada Perera
The sky is like life….
 Spreading long and wide… 
With a glimmer here and there,
 Glistening at sunrise. 
Beyond the horizon, to a limitless land
 Across the sands of time.
 Star secrets, clouds of dreams;
 In a flashing comet
 Comes a heavenly gleam…
We have explored the heavens, and now it;s time to take the clock back a few tens of millions of years, and put ourselves back on Terra Firma.

Poem by: Vasika Udurawane

ANGEL
 Beneath the angel’s wind-swift wings,
The thunder of a restless earth;
Beneath a host of heavenly saviors,
A world ever-shifting.
Imperfect to its core, to be purged at final salvation,
To be kissed by breaths from miles above
To be saved from damnation.
Fires blaze below, roaring sinners burn;
But no such sinners see I in your sky.
In the storm of tossing clouds is flame,
The blaze from heaven that lights up all mortal eyes.
Flight of angels, so far above me,
If only you could feel us,
Our breath, our cries, our tortures,
Our birth-cries, and death-mourns;
The screams of the shifting ground,
A cruel, forsaken goddess.
Angel, perfect light in glowing sky,
Guide us through an endless night.



Thus ends our work for the time being. Maybe catch us later on during the rest of the festive season. Wish you all a merry Christmas, and a happy New Year!






RAKSHASA-Part 1

(Six months of drama are finally over, thank the gods. But I’ve just walked into exams, so this small bunch of posts will be a filler for something bigger and cooler.
This is a small story in a series that will be posted here. Don’t know how often, but still. As for that demon mask….I don’t know what possessed me to put it there)

(A rakshasa is a demonic humanoid from Indo-Sri Lankan mythology. It is either malevolent or benevolent, but is almost always depicted as a dark-skinned, fearsome-looking beast with a taste for human flesh. But what if the demon we all feared, was a human with merely the desire to be loved for what he is?)

The memory kept on playing itself a million times over in his mind as he felt the hardened, puckered scar tissues on his left cheek. The crinkled marks stretched down to his mouth, and pulled the slightest bit of skin towards the orifice full of big, powerful teeth. Images kept flashing again, cutting deeply through even his most jovial dreams.
Dreams of a mother.
A mother who was wild, pale and naked, cradling her offspring in her lap. That same cave, over twenty years ago was where she had fled.
That same cave where she wailed and wept into the inky night as her belly grew with him.
That very cave where the only ones who watched her scream with deathly agony were a small family of bats hanging from the left wall of the cave roof, wings obscuring their tiny faces.

He had been right here from the very start.

Warm milk flooded his tiny mouth as she cried again, the moon’s stray beams highlighting the monster she bore in her arms.
Raw, red eyes always half-closed.
No chin, but heavy brow ridges and nose.
Hair matted with blood.
Thickened gray patches of scarred and ridged skin; a strange, inhuman disease no doubt.
A terrifying child who could never be part of the world around him, given to her as a blessing by some infernal god.

But she still wept as only a mother could as the stench between her legs filled the cave. She kissed her bestial son a hundred times, whispering Buddhist prayers into his ear. And as she felt her vulva, caked with blood and membrane, she also heard his tiny heart beating with hers, a drum in that dark and distant night.

“Nothing will happen to you,” she promised him over and over, stroking the rough skin on his torso. “I promise, as long as you are here, I will forever keep you away from evil men.” The moon was at its peak.
Here was the glorious white eye in the sky telling her that it was them month of Vesak, a holy month. But even on the most sacred nights, she knew, some fiends from hell could cast their wretched spells on the weak and unknowing.

(Next part continues later)

Perfectly Flawed People

 This was first posted here, but we felt there would be no harm and posting it on this blog too.

 

You know how you are happily having a bath in the night and then, the power goes off. You have three options.

Stop bathing, stand/sit still and wait for the power to get back on
Look for your towel, hopefully cover your self and go find a candle
Take a risk, complete your bath in the dark

I always go with the third option. It’s risky, let me tell you that. Having used the office washroom without a properly working light at least five times, I can be considered an expert on the issue. I’ve had to use… umm… a petrol shed bathroom and the only light I got was from a phone, which I tried not to drop anywhere.

So what happens is that you’ve used that same old bathroom, with the same old floor plan for years, and you think you can figure it all out blindfolded. But as soon as there’s no light, your mind forgets where the fixtures were. So you try not to slip, because we all know that falling in the bathroom is utterly painful. And you look for soap and try to turn on the shower again. Then you find your towel, and wipe your self dry.

And then! The biggest challenge, getting into your clothes. Which in the dark is as complicated, exhausting and frustrating as trying to buy food from a crowded food truck!

However, having a bath in the dark does a lot of revealing. Not the kind of revealing any bath does. But being stripped off a sense you abuse and you never appreciate, makes you realize how simple life is, but how we complicate everything.

And darkness in general reveals.

I’ve spent the night at my cousins maybe three or four times. And on all those times, we’ve stayed up, way after we turned off the lights, chatting. Somehow we could be more honest with each other when we saw nothing. We would talk for hours, laughing at the lamest things, or sharing secrets with each other.

However, this post isn’t about sitting in the dark.

It’s about who we really are. I was once told there are no good people. Or bad people. You have people and they do various things that may make them seem like good people or bad people. But your actions can’t define you. In law, the wording of a law is very important. What is theft, what is trespass, what is malicious, what is a wound… So assault occasioning ABH could be merely touching someone without their consent. But the more serious offense includes wounding, which is an injury that cuts through all layers of the skin, and GBH. So putting aside the legal jargon, words are important.

If you take a good person, it means he does good. But can’t a good man do bad things too? Say I’m classified as a good person, does that mean I would never ever lie?

“So you see, Good and Evil have the same face; it all depends on when they cross the path of each individual human being.”
― Paulo Coelho,
The Devil and Miss Prym

So there are no good people or bad people. Just people, who are so flawed, but are so beautifully flawed. Now you are thinking, “OMG! Shailee is such a weirdo, calling her self beautiful.” I don’t mean the perfect eyes, or nose, or figure and so on. I mean that our imperfections make us all beautiful and unique.

Now imagine if we had no flaws. We wouldn’t just have somethings in common, we would have everything in common. We would be clones of this one person, and we wouldn’t know one person from another. But we have all these flaws which stop us from being ‘perfect’ and sometimes we spend too long trying to perfect our selves. We worry about our imperfections that we forget to live, we don’t see the beauty in our selves.

Admitting you are a flawed human being, leads to identifying and accepting these flaws. You work on them, and improve your self, you improve your identity.

There’s another important thing to do. When you admit you are a flawed human being, you can overlook the flaws in other people. We see the flaws of other people before we see our own flaws. And we let these flaws get to us, we let them choose who we like and don’t like. But we should accept the flaws of other people. Not only because that’s who they are and that’s what makes them unique. We should accept the flaws of other people because we too are flawed. And together we are all flawed but beautiful human beings. We are imperfect but unique human beings.

And I know that I’m the worst person to be saying this. Sure, I accept I’m flawed and I accept that other people are flawed. And I do try my best to overlook the flaws of other people. But at some point the flaws get to me, and I tend to let these flaws decide the future of our friendship. Which is bad, but maybe that’s my flaw. But I’m friends with people who I rarely agree with, who I have very little in common with. So I do overlook those flaws that nag me. Just not with everyone 🙂

Dew drops

Life is no more than a dewdrop balancing on the end of a blade of grass.
-Lord Buddha

The wise man warns me that life is but a dewdrop on the lotus leaf.
Rabindranath Tagore
 

“Life is but a day:
A fragile dewdrop on its perilious way
From a tree’s summit”
-John Keats

“Man’s life is like a drop of dew on a leaf.”

-Socrates

“Yes, I know
Life is a dew drop.
And yet . . .and yet . . .”
-Japanese poet Kobiyashi Issa,

 

 

Dew drops.
Glittering diamonds atop an emerald leaf,
An amber petal, 
Or a web of silver threads.
Pleasing the eye in one moment,
Gone in the next.
Such is our life,
Says many a philosopher.
What will you spend your dew drop for?
More peace on earth,
Or more hatred?
The choice, my friend,
Is finally yours…

 

For life goes on…


Her pottu glinted in the sun,

And to him,

It was like a thousand sun beams,

Hitting him off guard,

 And blinding him.

Just like her love had,

 Rendered him helpless.

He watched her dance,

With nimble feet on the ground,

Swaying like a cloud in a gentle breeze,

To the beats of a mrudangam.

“Was it a fault in their stars,

That didn’t bring them together?

No, not in this life…”,

With a heavy heart he pondered.

Song after song,

Of love that’s not there anymore,

Tear after tear,

For memories oh so sublime!

Yet moving on: a must,

For life goes on,

No matter how unfair it is…