I wrote this sometime ago--reflecting on a different episode in my life. However, now, given the theme of "Sri Lanka" and "belonging" that i seem to be rambling on about, this short poem seems most pertinent. Enjoy...
The ugliest man
his soul, full of despair
yearns for belonging
where ever he turns
he sees
bloody eyes, cruel nails
loneliness
but wait…
as she went pass him
silent
that she blushed
he saw it well
by that he knew her for butterfly
for salvation
Suddenly
he grows warmer
the coldness of his body
gone!
What has happened to me?
something warm refreshes me
I am not ugly anymore!
unknown she is
she circles me
her warm breath touches my body
But as he peers away from himself
seeking in her the comfort of his loneliness
behold! she asks
what do you seek here?
what do you seek here you ugly man?
Same as you
to learn of loneliness
to afflict myself of this wretchedness
to feel your heart, eyes, soul
to feel beautiful again
to belong
—Mustafa, ‘The Ugliest Man’
Monday, April 16, 2007
Thursday, April 12, 2007
Scream 2
In an instant
Gun shots will explode
The quiet will shatter
Flies And street dogs, sometimes
Will take up arms
The wind, grief aden
Will shudder
As if to say
‘That is the way it is
In between times’
—Balasoorian, ‘When Our Peace is Shattered’
Gun shots will explode
The quiet will shatter
Flies And street dogs, sometimes
Will take up arms
The wind, grief aden
Will shudder
As if to say
‘That is the way it is
In between times’
—Balasoorian, ‘When Our Peace is Shattered’
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
Scream
I came across this picture on some website. The painting appeared after a bomb attack in colombo. The wall was, obviously damaged during the bombing. Interestingly, the picture makes much sense even if we gaze at the image without worrying too much about its "original" independent meaning.
The Bling Chandiya & The Yuppy!
This entry has something to do with the yuppies of Colombo and the rather new phenomenon known as Bling ChandiyaISM which has taken Colombo by storm! More importantly, it has something to do with how individuals use their bodies as cultural signifiers of certain frustrations and ambivalences existent in postcolonial Sri Lanka society.
Hence the importance of New Years Eve, 2006/07!
Last year, a couple of good friends and I found ourselves with absolutely nothing to do on new years eve. So we decided to go out for dinner to this place called "the commons" and then call it a night after a night-cap at the coffee shop popularly known as Baristas. This night, apart from the brouhahas of a New Years Eve, where everyone is supposed to be out 'celebrating', became a retrospective evening filled with allusions to the subtle, yet O so obvious ironies of life.
After dinner at "the commons", which on the one hand is a wonderful restaurant, and on the other hand an entire irony to its name—with its flush carpets, rather pricy menu and big lounge couches which almost swallow you up in the name of 'comfort', "the commons" is actually more "the bourgeoisie" than anything else.
Nonetheless, after the ironic yet filling dinner we made our way to Baristas, yet another space colonized by adolescent bourgeois kids.
As a friend and I made our way down to order our five-dollar "coffees" the clock struck mid-night. Woohoo! It was the new year! Me—being the walking Gujrati stereotype, suggested to the coffee chef that our drinks should be on the house in light of the hour and because we were the “first” customers for the year. Little did I notice, amidst the cacophonic celebration, to our far right stood a sixteen to seventeen year old boy (who apart from his trophy girl-friend was also brandishing a BMW car-key) who exalted (almost offensively): "no way man! I was here at midnight exactly! I figured I should spend new years eve here since I have been here pretty much every night of the year". Now amazingly, at this moment, I began to think more about what he said, than the lovely coffee that awaited me. Hence stepping outside for a quick breather!
Now, the significance of this experience I suppose, is that as the B-mers and Coffees flowed in and out, and as I stepped “outside” Barista, I noticed another space, a stretch of beach, just a block or so away. This beach is popularly known as the Galle-Face-Green (although there is very little green to be found). Here were the “masses” or "The Commons". People who too were celebrating "New years eve". they did not have BMWs or 5 Dollar coffees at their disposal. But here too was another party!! Quite a wild one at that. Kids running everywhere! Daddy’s and mummy running behind them!
Interestingly, at this party, there was BLInG too! Yes, the very shiny things people wear around their necks! I noticed one guy wearing a stereotypical FUBU Baggy T-shirt and some metal chains around his neck. To top it all off, he had an ALARM CLOCK hanging around his neck too, just so he would know the “time”—I think—I hope. He did not look rich to me, he did not look like he had Daddy’s BMW to drive around in an pick up babes. He looked like (to put it crudely) a westernized chandiya or as i choose to call him--my very own Bling Chandiya!
Now its been more than fifty years since our colonial masters left us. And as Sri Lankans attempt to reflect on their postcolonial experience as a nation, I cannot help but see something so obviously similar, but at the same time conflictually-different between the 'rich BMW boy’ and the 'not-so-rich-alarm-clock-hanging' Bling Chandiya!
This is the similarity: As a nation goes to war with itself, the nations individuals over time, begin to start questioning, not just the very essence of their being but also of what they are becoming.
This is the conflictual-difference: It seems to me that the Bling Chandiya quite obviously emulating an American or western sub-culture, such as the likes of ALi-G or Eminem or Snoop Dogg suggests to us a growing frustration in terms of an identity crisis located within the complex weltanschauung of globalization. The Bling Chandiya is lost, almost-batty, confused—but also—confusing. On the one hand he says I am mimicking the black African American because its “cool”. But passively, he is also crying and screaming out loud in silent shrills--look what has become of us! These class polarities, the lack of economic opportunity has made me oppressed—pissed off—a nobody forced to mimic another nobody!
Alternatively, the rich-boy, almost ambivalent to the "other" party just a block away, is the Bling Chandiya's anti-thesis. He spends $5 at the least on just coffee everyday. An amount the Bling Chandiya would have to labor all day to earn! Such is the pity of dehumanization in Sri Lankan society today. Such is the case for many people who live in Colombo—all the while—thinking: "everything is alright! Oh yes, there is a war, but as long as we stay behind our air-conditioned cars and high-walled homes, everything should be alright...."
And then what of the pompous old me who patronizes Baristas and celebrates the "plight" of the Bling Chandiya?!! Well, sometimes, its difficult to break away entirely from such structures. I am as complicit and guilty as anybody else. For what would my friends think if I went around with an alarm clock around my neck? (comments are most welcome hehe!) Could i become a Bling Chanidya too? Maybe, Maybe not!
To wrap up a rather long and lamenting post, the alarm clock was not just BliNG! It was a metaphor reminiscent of the chains that the poor in Sri Lanka's rapidly globalizing economy wear almost willingly. Amidst the broken smiles of a nation at war with itself there exists a frustration of expanding polarities between the rich boys and the not so rich boys. Between those who can afford to say, "daddy I need money to party" and those who don’t or cant “afford” to.
A Happy & Belated New Year Everybody!
Hence the importance of New Years Eve, 2006/07!
Last year, a couple of good friends and I found ourselves with absolutely nothing to do on new years eve. So we decided to go out for dinner to this place called "the commons" and then call it a night after a night-cap at the coffee shop popularly known as Baristas. This night, apart from the brouhahas of a New Years Eve, where everyone is supposed to be out 'celebrating', became a retrospective evening filled with allusions to the subtle, yet O so obvious ironies of life.
After dinner at "the commons", which on the one hand is a wonderful restaurant, and on the other hand an entire irony to its name—with its flush carpets, rather pricy menu and big lounge couches which almost swallow you up in the name of 'comfort', "the commons" is actually more "the bourgeoisie" than anything else.
Nonetheless, after the ironic yet filling dinner we made our way to Baristas, yet another space colonized by adolescent bourgeois kids.
As a friend and I made our way down to order our five-dollar "coffees" the clock struck mid-night. Woohoo! It was the new year! Me—being the walking Gujrati stereotype, suggested to the coffee chef that our drinks should be on the house in light of the hour and because we were the “first” customers for the year. Little did I notice, amidst the cacophonic celebration, to our far right stood a sixteen to seventeen year old boy (who apart from his trophy girl-friend was also brandishing a BMW car-key) who exalted (almost offensively): "no way man! I was here at midnight exactly! I figured I should spend new years eve here since I have been here pretty much every night of the year". Now amazingly, at this moment, I began to think more about what he said, than the lovely coffee that awaited me. Hence stepping outside for a quick breather!
Now, the significance of this experience I suppose, is that as the B-mers and Coffees flowed in and out, and as I stepped “outside” Barista, I noticed another space, a stretch of beach, just a block or so away. This beach is popularly known as the Galle-Face-Green (although there is very little green to be found). Here were the “masses” or "The Commons". People who too were celebrating "New years eve". they did not have BMWs or 5 Dollar coffees at their disposal. But here too was another party!! Quite a wild one at that. Kids running everywhere! Daddy’s and mummy running behind them!
Interestingly, at this party, there was BLInG too! Yes, the very shiny things people wear around their necks! I noticed one guy wearing a stereotypical FUBU Baggy T-shirt and some metal chains around his neck. To top it all off, he had an ALARM CLOCK hanging around his neck too, just so he would know the “time”—I think—I hope. He did not look rich to me, he did not look like he had Daddy’s BMW to drive around in an pick up babes. He looked like (to put it crudely) a westernized chandiya or as i choose to call him--my very own Bling Chandiya!
Now its been more than fifty years since our colonial masters left us. And as Sri Lankans attempt to reflect on their postcolonial experience as a nation, I cannot help but see something so obviously similar, but at the same time conflictually-different between the 'rich BMW boy’ and the 'not-so-rich-alarm-clock-hanging' Bling Chandiya!
This is the similarity: As a nation goes to war with itself, the nations individuals over time, begin to start questioning, not just the very essence of their being but also of what they are becoming.
This is the conflictual-difference: It seems to me that the Bling Chandiya quite obviously emulating an American or western sub-culture, such as the likes of ALi-G or Eminem or Snoop Dogg suggests to us a growing frustration in terms of an identity crisis located within the complex weltanschauung of globalization. The Bling Chandiya is lost, almost-batty, confused—but also—confusing. On the one hand he says I am mimicking the black African American because its “cool”. But passively, he is also crying and screaming out loud in silent shrills--look what has become of us! These class polarities, the lack of economic opportunity has made me oppressed—pissed off—a nobody forced to mimic another nobody!
Alternatively, the rich-boy, almost ambivalent to the "other" party just a block away, is the Bling Chandiya's anti-thesis. He spends $5 at the least on just coffee everyday. An amount the Bling Chandiya would have to labor all day to earn! Such is the pity of dehumanization in Sri Lankan society today. Such is the case for many people who live in Colombo—all the while—thinking: "everything is alright! Oh yes, there is a war, but as long as we stay behind our air-conditioned cars and high-walled homes, everything should be alright...."
And then what of the pompous old me who patronizes Baristas and celebrates the "plight" of the Bling Chandiya?!! Well, sometimes, its difficult to break away entirely from such structures. I am as complicit and guilty as anybody else. For what would my friends think if I went around with an alarm clock around my neck? (comments are most welcome hehe!) Could i become a Bling Chanidya too? Maybe, Maybe not!
To wrap up a rather long and lamenting post, the alarm clock was not just BliNG! It was a metaphor reminiscent of the chains that the poor in Sri Lanka's rapidly globalizing economy wear almost willingly. Amidst the broken smiles of a nation at war with itself there exists a frustration of expanding polarities between the rich boys and the not so rich boys. Between those who can afford to say, "daddy I need money to party" and those who don’t or cant “afford” to.
A Happy & Belated New Year Everybody!
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