There was once a time when it was warm and humid in July and yet December would bring along with it the cool dry winds for my kites to fly. I was still careless enough to run barefoot along the little streets with the excitement that only a fragile kite made of bamboo and tissue paper could bring. Its red and white frills dangled just below the electricity cables and telephone wires. Yet I never wanted to fly like a kite at the edge of a string. I wanted to soar like an eagle and breathe in the purple air of the sunrise.
I was young and so were my dreams. They were about kites that flew at the edge of a long nylon string and about airplanes that flew above them. I treasured the string, because even though a kite was just for a season, the string would remain in my closet for another year and then another. I may have spent half of my school holidays untangling its knots; because I enjoyed the puzzles they took solving and it taught me to be patient. So the string grew in length every year with new additions that seeya brought from the market, but it never grew long enough to let the kites fly as high as the airplanes.
One of seeya's joys was to see these simple and colorful creations of mine in flight, when I flew them from the little hill near the house. Perhaps it took him back to his boyhood and the simple dreams he had then, because the dreams of a young mind are simple and they don't dictate to you what you ought to need and how you ought to live. Dreams then were happy and ambitious. As I grew older, my dreams became more complex. They began to take the shapes and forms of people and things, and dissolve in the anxieties and worries of real life. Life has become a kite, flying under the impression of freedom in the sky, yet no further than the length of a string. It becomes almost impossible to fly against the wind.
As a boy, I flew the object of my dreams and as an adult the objects of my dreams fly me at the edge of their strings. I was once the creator of my dreams, but now I wonder, whether I have let myself become one of their creations.
Monday, December 25, 2006
Friday, December 22, 2006
After Life (draft)
Chapter 1
Peace
I realise what it means now. I now understand why thousands of sweaty hands carried banners and why their coarse voices shouted through those dusty streets, even though they themselves still don't. I know why young men wore green uniforms and polished their brown boots. I know why powerful men gave speeches from lecterns and why millions of powerless men applauded. I know why some men wrote and spoke and why others did not listen or read. I understand why they would sometimes try to cover the red blood on the ground with thick black ink on paper and later glorified that same blood with the same strokes that their heavy pens had made. I know why pages of magazines and books once overflowed with their stories and ours and why people paid to read them.
I understand peace, because now I feel it, like I used to smell the sweet scent of flowers and burning incense at the temple. I know it surrounds me like the wind, because I breathe it in. It flows though me now, like a river through a dessert, fertilising its path through my soul, then eroding it and carrying it away like sand and loose rocks, on its way to the greater depths of the universe. It has become my sustenance, the same way that fear once was. After a lifetime of searching, I search no more. Through all the tribulations of my short life, I have at last found life's purpose.
Men strive to carve out their own space with their own tools and their own skills, during their own lifetime. Some do so with their speeches, some with banners and coarse voices, some with their pens and yet others in their green uniforms. Many of them believe as they struggle, that they will have more than a lifetime to benefit from it. My struggle has led me to my life's fulfilment and its completion; for I am dead now.
My world is dark now, but I see my place in the universe more clearly than ever before. I did not know God, but I know him now. My loved ones and friends do not recognise me anymore, but I have carried their memories with me. I did not march out of the battle the same way I marched into it. I do not yearn anymore to give or to take, for you take, only to give back and a lifetime is all you have; to give or take. The battle field broke my life before it mended my soul. I walked through a gate of violence to enter the world of peace. There are those who enter this world from different gates after wearing off their own tools, but mine weren't worn off. There are those who are never remembered beyond their lifetimes, but when I died, a nation stood up and remembered me in silence for two minutes, because I once held a gun against my chest.
That gun was my tool. Life had assigned it to me and I carried it with skill and honour. They told me it was mine, but it belonged to another man who died before me. The fire within it was responsible for the deaths of many. I kept it at my bedside and carried it on my shoulder. I stood with it at attention and guarded their peaceful world as they quietly slept, for I never had any peace in my own world. It was there to protect my life, the lives of men who marched beside me and the life of my nation. I never considered it vulgar or brutal when I held it with the same fervour with which I held my wife and my first born son. I did not see the irony then, that it would be such a weapon in another man's hands that would end their dreams and spill their tears. I did not understand how that which was commissioned to save lives, would eventually destroy them. I did not know then, that the path to my peace lay inside a metal barrel of fire and violence. But death takes as much as it gives and recreates what it destroys. Soon the time will come, when the life of the one who took my life will also be taken. But not yet.
Peace
I realise what it means now. I now understand why thousands of sweaty hands carried banners and why their coarse voices shouted through those dusty streets, even though they themselves still don't. I know why young men wore green uniforms and polished their brown boots. I know why powerful men gave speeches from lecterns and why millions of powerless men applauded. I know why some men wrote and spoke and why others did not listen or read. I understand why they would sometimes try to cover the red blood on the ground with thick black ink on paper and later glorified that same blood with the same strokes that their heavy pens had made. I know why pages of magazines and books once overflowed with their stories and ours and why people paid to read them.
I understand peace, because now I feel it, like I used to smell the sweet scent of flowers and burning incense at the temple. I know it surrounds me like the wind, because I breathe it in. It flows though me now, like a river through a dessert, fertilising its path through my soul, then eroding it and carrying it away like sand and loose rocks, on its way to the greater depths of the universe. It has become my sustenance, the same way that fear once was. After a lifetime of searching, I search no more. Through all the tribulations of my short life, I have at last found life's purpose.
Men strive to carve out their own space with their own tools and their own skills, during their own lifetime. Some do so with their speeches, some with banners and coarse voices, some with their pens and yet others in their green uniforms. Many of them believe as they struggle, that they will have more than a lifetime to benefit from it. My struggle has led me to my life's fulfilment and its completion; for I am dead now.
My world is dark now, but I see my place in the universe more clearly than ever before. I did not know God, but I know him now. My loved ones and friends do not recognise me anymore, but I have carried their memories with me. I did not march out of the battle the same way I marched into it. I do not yearn anymore to give or to take, for you take, only to give back and a lifetime is all you have; to give or take. The battle field broke my life before it mended my soul. I walked through a gate of violence to enter the world of peace. There are those who enter this world from different gates after wearing off their own tools, but mine weren't worn off. There are those who are never remembered beyond their lifetimes, but when I died, a nation stood up and remembered me in silence for two minutes, because I once held a gun against my chest.
That gun was my tool. Life had assigned it to me and I carried it with skill and honour. They told me it was mine, but it belonged to another man who died before me. The fire within it was responsible for the deaths of many. I kept it at my bedside and carried it on my shoulder. I stood with it at attention and guarded their peaceful world as they quietly slept, for I never had any peace in my own world. It was there to protect my life, the lives of men who marched beside me and the life of my nation. I never considered it vulgar or brutal when I held it with the same fervour with which I held my wife and my first born son. I did not see the irony then, that it would be such a weapon in another man's hands that would end their dreams and spill their tears. I did not understand how that which was commissioned to save lives, would eventually destroy them. I did not know then, that the path to my peace lay inside a metal barrel of fire and violence. But death takes as much as it gives and recreates what it destroys. Soon the time will come, when the life of the one who took my life will also be taken. But not yet.
Thursday, December 21, 2006
Words under threat of extinction
21st December 2006
A severely homesick Harendra Alwis (who is also mildly depressed about not being able to come home for Christmas) reports from his little corner of the world in Melbourne, Australia
Semantics Task Force (STF) inspectors of the Department of Words in the Ministry of Communication have discovered millions of cases where certain words are being misused and abused. In a series of raids carried out worldwide, the ministry says it has collected alarming evidence of the deterioration of language, right out of the lips of offenders. Senior analysts at the department say that this is a very dangerous threat to communication that requires serious attention on a global scale.
In an effort to educate the public about the misuse of words, the ministry has released two comprehensive reports; one listing expired words that are being cheaply recycled and used with distressing frequency and the other containing a list or words that are under severe threat of loosing their meaning.
The first list include words such as 'like', 'whatever', 'love', 'so' (alternatively spelt 'sooo') and also phrases such as 'shut up'. Investigators who managed to successfully infiltrate a group of school girls in a bus, found statistical evidence which suggest that teenage girls are the most common offenders of this mass abuse of words. However, 'gangsta rappers' and their brain-dead followers and nincompoops who don't read are also among those who have been held responsible for this severe degradation of semantics.
Four letter words such as 'shit' were found to be abused mostly for swearing. However, evidence suggests that illiterate thugs and idiots whose command of language is limited to a few hundred words are using these words to convey their narrow spectrum of thoughts and ideas. The findings suggest the possibility that, these words have evolved into super-expressive tools of communication for their users, as such words offer versatility in the use of language for people with a limited vocabulary.
The second report covers more serious issues that may even effect our perception of what it means to me human. Investigators have found instances where politicians and even religious leaders had misinterpreted words as fundamental as 'war', 'peace', 'freedom', 'God', 'good', 'bad' and 'justice'; arbitrarily choosing their meanings to manipulate public support for unjust causes and to promote their personal agendas.
While acknowledging that at least some of these changes could be considered to be part of the necessary natural evolution of language, the investigation also shed light on the fact that words such as 'love' and 'respect' have all but lost their meaning. Previous studies have proven that human thoughts and feelings are shaped by words and their semantics. The range of human emotions and sentiments are limited to the availability of words that can represent them and convey their meaning. Therefore, if this process of abuse is allowed to continue, humanity may soon loose its ability to experience even the most profound of all emotions and sentiments.
Commentators on the subject argue that the loss of emotions and positive sentiments is already taking place causing dire consequences. They point out the increase of domestic violence and divorce rates and the decrease of goodwill and cooperation among individuals, groups and most notably among nations as a direct result of the degradation of words and the meanings.
In its final analysis, the report suggests the invention of new words as a possible solution among others such as making it compulsory for people to read old books and legally enforcing the dictionary definition of words that have been identified to be under threat. Experts point out that the latter will cause more harm than it aims to prevent, by limiting the creative use of words. They also warn that such moves could even be a threat to sarcasm and humor; the cornerstones of entertainment and laughter. In reply, the ministry emphasized that the contents of the reports are open for public debate, iterating the need to find creative solutions to the problems they aim to highlight.
A severely homesick Harendra Alwis (who is also mildly depressed about not being able to come home for Christmas) reports from his little corner of the world in Melbourne, Australia
Semantics Task Force (STF) inspectors of the Department of Words in the Ministry of Communication have discovered millions of cases where certain words are being misused and abused. In a series of raids carried out worldwide, the ministry says it has collected alarming evidence of the deterioration of language, right out of the lips of offenders. Senior analysts at the department say that this is a very dangerous threat to communication that requires serious attention on a global scale.
In an effort to educate the public about the misuse of words, the ministry has released two comprehensive reports; one listing expired words that are being cheaply recycled and used with distressing frequency and the other containing a list or words that are under severe threat of loosing their meaning.
The first list include words such as 'like', 'whatever', 'love', 'so' (alternatively spelt 'sooo') and also phrases such as 'shut up'. Investigators who managed to successfully infiltrate a group of school girls in a bus, found statistical evidence which suggest that teenage girls are the most common offenders of this mass abuse of words. However, 'gangsta rappers' and their brain-dead followers and nincompoops who don't read are also among those who have been held responsible for this severe degradation of semantics.
Four letter words such as 'shit' were found to be abused mostly for swearing. However, evidence suggests that illiterate thugs and idiots whose command of language is limited to a few hundred words are using these words to convey their narrow spectrum of thoughts and ideas. The findings suggest the possibility that, these words have evolved into super-expressive tools of communication for their users, as such words offer versatility in the use of language for people with a limited vocabulary.
The second report covers more serious issues that may even effect our perception of what it means to me human. Investigators have found instances where politicians and even religious leaders had misinterpreted words as fundamental as 'war', 'peace', 'freedom', 'God', 'good', 'bad' and 'justice'; arbitrarily choosing their meanings to manipulate public support for unjust causes and to promote their personal agendas.
While acknowledging that at least some of these changes could be considered to be part of the necessary natural evolution of language, the investigation also shed light on the fact that words such as 'love' and 'respect' have all but lost their meaning. Previous studies have proven that human thoughts and feelings are shaped by words and their semantics. The range of human emotions and sentiments are limited to the availability of words that can represent them and convey their meaning. Therefore, if this process of abuse is allowed to continue, humanity may soon loose its ability to experience even the most profound of all emotions and sentiments.
Commentators on the subject argue that the loss of emotions and positive sentiments is already taking place causing dire consequences. They point out the increase of domestic violence and divorce rates and the decrease of goodwill and cooperation among individuals, groups and most notably among nations as a direct result of the degradation of words and the meanings.
In its final analysis, the report suggests the invention of new words as a possible solution among others such as making it compulsory for people to read old books and legally enforcing the dictionary definition of words that have been identified to be under threat. Experts point out that the latter will cause more harm than it aims to prevent, by limiting the creative use of words. They also warn that such moves could even be a threat to sarcasm and humor; the cornerstones of entertainment and laughter. In reply, the ministry emphasized that the contents of the reports are open for public debate, iterating the need to find creative solutions to the problems they aim to highlight.
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
Time
The stars are silent. The moon has waned.
Even the busy street has gone to sleep, tucked under a blanket of scarlet lights. It is the hustle of the trees and the songs of crickets and beetles that fill the air.
The ocean crashes on a desolate beach, but its hum has already faded into empty space.
I wait here as I have waited all my life, wondering whether I will see you in my dreams tonight... wondering whether I will hear your voice and smell your hair... unsure whether I could feel your hand slip into mine or see the way you part those tender eyelids to spare a glance for me or smile back when I smile. I wait for a touch I have never felt, a light I have never seen and a warmth that has never shielded me from the cold winds. Hope keeps me company.
I try to imagine the conversations we will have one day, the quarrels we will resolve with a kiss, and the prayers we will pray together cuddled in each other's arms. I try to invent new words to draw a portrait of you. Simple, beautiful, timeless and honest words that would describe the cheer in your laughter, the grace with which you walk and how the rhythm of my heart would change when you smile.
I need you tonight, even in a dream. I am tired... tired of receiving too many blessings when I don't have you to share them with... tired of days passing by too fast without a sincere smile. Friends stand by my side. Time offers me a hundred adventures. Freedom promises a thousand thrills. Sometimes I search for you in a verse that flows out of my heart or in a book I take up to read. Sometimes I see your radiance in an image that flows out my camera.
Yet they can no longer fill the emptiness in my little corner of the world. I try to be brave, to deal with the speculations of my mind and the yearnings of my heart. This night will pass, and another as I wait here... I will wait, and I will smile... always.
Even the busy street has gone to sleep, tucked under a blanket of scarlet lights. It is the hustle of the trees and the songs of crickets and beetles that fill the air.
The ocean crashes on a desolate beach, but its hum has already faded into empty space.
I wait here as I have waited all my life, wondering whether I will see you in my dreams tonight... wondering whether I will hear your voice and smell your hair... unsure whether I could feel your hand slip into mine or see the way you part those tender eyelids to spare a glance for me or smile back when I smile. I wait for a touch I have never felt, a light I have never seen and a warmth that has never shielded me from the cold winds. Hope keeps me company.
I try to imagine the conversations we will have one day, the quarrels we will resolve with a kiss, and the prayers we will pray together cuddled in each other's arms. I try to invent new words to draw a portrait of you. Simple, beautiful, timeless and honest words that would describe the cheer in your laughter, the grace with which you walk and how the rhythm of my heart would change when you smile.
I need you tonight, even in a dream. I am tired... tired of receiving too many blessings when I don't have you to share them with... tired of days passing by too fast without a sincere smile. Friends stand by my side. Time offers me a hundred adventures. Freedom promises a thousand thrills. Sometimes I search for you in a verse that flows out of my heart or in a book I take up to read. Sometimes I see your radiance in an image that flows out my camera.
Yet they can no longer fill the emptiness in my little corner of the world. I try to be brave, to deal with the speculations of my mind and the yearnings of my heart. This night will pass, and another as I wait here... I will wait, and I will smile... always.
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