29 October 2012

Never run, Bleed.

Under the poya, eid, halloween, diwali full moon...
The same moon
As you, them and me
Never run

Dhammika Dharmawardhane

28 October 2012

My Super Sunday in the Sticks

My Super Sunday in the Sticks
Rice & Curry lunch. Football muted on TV. Liverpool v. Everton followed by Man U at Chelsea. iTunes chilling me out on the MB, sprawled on couch.
‘And she’s buying a stairway to heaven…’
Musk incense, music moved to Floyd and kick off on the telly. Hagen Das in fridge but can’t have because diabetic. Oh the suffering.
‘Shine on you crazy diamonds…’

24 October 2012

Dasara, a festival celebrating strength, ability and courage. "Om Sri Durgaya Namah"

Dasara is a Hindu festival that celebrates the victory of good over evil.  Dasara marks the victory of Goddess Durga (Shakthi) over demons as Mahishasur. It is a day when devotees worship Goddess Shakti.
Shakti represents strength, ability and courage.
This day also celebrates the Hindu god Rama's victory over the demon king Ravana and the triumph of good over evil. The epic Ramayana tells the mythical story of the Lord Rama who wins the lovely Sita for his wife, only to have her carried off by Ravana, the demon king of Lanka.
Ravana plays an important role in the Ramayana. Ravana had a sister known as Shoorpanakha. She fell in love with the brothers Rama and Lakshamana and wanted to marry one of them. Lakshamana refused to marry her and Rama could not as he was already married to Sita.
Shoorpanakha threatened to kill Sita, so that she could marry Rama. This angered Lakshamana who cut off Shoorpanakha's nose and ears. Ravana then kidnapped Sita to avenge his sister's injuries. Rama and Lakshamana later fought a battle to rescue Sita. The monkey god Hanuman and a huge army of monkeys helped them.
Dasara/ Dussehra is derived from Sanskrit Dasha-hara meaning "remover of bad fate" meaning remover of ten heads of Ravana's.
The first nine days are celebrated as Maha Navratri 'nine nights' and culminates on the tenth day as Dasara.
The Hindu epic the Mahabharata carries the story Ramayana. The origins of this story are from the 8th and 9th centuries.
"Om Sri Durgaya Namah"

Authors note:
When I was a child, I had a comic book with the story of Ramayana. It filled my imagination with wonderful images of war and victory. My strong belief in the power of good, the simple fact that your 'karma' in this world will determine your fate, the happiness that lies beyond money, and the search of this began then. It still continues. Images are but our imagination. The powers of good and equally the evil that lies within all of us, I believe are co-dependent. I have but scratched the surface in my journey. My faith is strong, for I believe that harnessing the power of good, will bring you peace of mind. 

21 October 2012


I am awake early as usual to the absolute silence and solitude of a Sunday morning in the sticks. The boiler drones softly to keep away the freezing cold outside. Everyone else is fast asleep. Even the dog is cuddled up under the kid’s duvet and scarcely opened his eyes when I popped my head in this morning. I am already on my second coffee for the day. A cigarette smoked outside in a crisp cold morning. Too early in the morning to see if anyone from the family are up too on Skye as I would wake those still sounds asleep upstairs. I know family in Sri Lanka, Malaysia and Thailand are up and about. The rest in US fast asleep other than maybe my niece and nephew who may still be out on the last dregs of a Saturday night. Nephew maybe not as his father is in the house with him these days.
So entertaining myself by writing this post. Please bear with the occasional ramble, for I am willing my body to stay tantalisingly close to going back to bed, but alive enough for my fingers to type.  TV at this time is still at the why in the world are you up this early on a Sunday programming phase. So reluctant and too lazy to sit up on the couch to look for the remote to switch on the news. The Internet ensuring no need for newspaper delivery. The latest print victim’s the Newsweek Magazine, soon to be exclusively digital. Many believe this is the final call for the fast disappearing need for a print medium. I assure the non-ad media people amongst you the Newsweek is big in circulation and readership, worldwide. Yet they no longer see the need to release a print version.
I both love and hate the Internet. The digital medium I embrace as a news source. I have already read the tweets of the news channels I follow. Read my fellow countryman’s posts on kottu, and visited the newslanka newsroom. After this post, soon, the dark tv screen right in front of me will come on to life in a rapid channel surf of BBC news, CNN, and Al Jazeera.
I have to go now. The dogs up and a quick rumble on the field behind our house to chase some foxes and generally wake the neighbourhood up is well in order.
The end of the print era cometh. So does Diwali and Christmas. Quiet but joyous anticipation.

20 October 2012

That’s how they roll in England

That’s how they roll in England

Despite a wee set back with a bit of bother in the morning the rest progressed steadily from bad to best. Visited the surgery for the annual flu jab, got jabbed for Pneumonia to add and then usual go and see the nurse for your asthma. Mine’s not bad, it’s usually when I am in a plane or on the tube. No waking up at night unable to breathe kind of thing. So blew on a tube really hard, similar to an alcohol breathalyser, had the generic chit chat about London’s smog required at such moments and made my way to Starbucks for the usual tall Soy Latte with three shots. I am good with pain, proof which is easily admissible in the innumerable tattoos on my body, battle scars from sports and general disagreements with unlike minded individuals.  So the injections were no big deal.
But while subsequently having an early lunch of string hoppers, pol sambol and kiri hodi (Lems got from Wembley on her way back from the Durga Temple), we took off to the Brent Cross shopping centre to visit John Lewis for some stuff for home. New carpets, cushion covers, crockery and such in preparation for Navaratri and Diwali. Bear with please while I digress. If you may wonder why we celebrate most holidays (Xmas, Avurudu, Wesak, Diwali) that’s the way we have always rolled, in SL and now in England.
So back to the injections and the general good service our local surgery hands out in abundance. Melo wisely comments on our way to Brent Cross and, I agree that living here does help me keep tiptop health wise. Somehow here I find that I am living a more healthy life. Yes I miss the domestic’s fabulous rice and curry, but somehow after living here for sometime you get used to a more healthy routine. You eat more fruit, exercise and your health is kept well supervised by your doctor. I have a blood test every two months where everything in my blood is checked and that everything in it is what it should be. Quarterly check ups with the doctor ensures that I am at ideal weight, have I shrunk in height, my blood pressure status, my feet in good condition and my urine clear. Mind you all of this is free. Via the National Health Service, bless their cotton socks.
I think also living in the sticks helps. The village, community feeling still exists, even though remotely this World War II community strive to maintain old world values. The local dry cleaners, funeral parlour, beautician, corner shops, veterinarian, bakers, fish & chippie, post office and Starbucks all exist down the high street to make their living. The classic tale of Tesco typified by the huge outbuilding and parking lot that proudly proclaims, ‘TESCO EXTRA’. The extra stands for  ‘as well as your daughter, for the price of two, we give you three, we have now decided to screw your wife, her mother, her sister, your mother, your sister and everyone’s grandmother as well’. Apologies, I digressed, again.
So back to my health. My local surgery is pretty good. It helps one keep in tiptop condition. That’s the way they roll in England.
The point to this post?
The pix of the fish buns BTW is my dinner. Remember Lems stopped in Wembley?