Sweet Home Obama

The guitar intro to Sweet Home Alabama disturbs an otherwise quiet morning. Overnight rains have cleaned away all signs of snow. The temperatures are back in double digits. Among the many sounds of alerts on my phone is the unmistakeable old school ding-dong of an incoming text. This one dreaded as it was at 3am. Light relief and understanding when realising it’s just a text from a friend in Sri Lanka. Only friends have no respect for your privacy or personal space, especially in Sri Lanka. If a question needs to be asked from Dhammika, so be it, text the bugger by all means.

Unfortunately after having read said text I am unable to sleep. Not for it’s contents, but for the fact that I couldn’t go back to sleep. Trot downstairs and make myself a coffee. Had an extremely satisfying visit to the porcelain pinnacle.

All done I make myself another cup of coffee and settle down in the lounge. Leave the curtains open to experience the true majesty of the heavy rain beating down outside. I am nice and cosy. Switch on the TV to watch the English play the Indians in a short version of the game cricket. Boring. Nothing on news either. Already watched the Aussie Sri Lanka really short version of the game and recorded it yesterday. So watched the Sri Lankan innings again last night. So nothing to watch.

Despite the falling rain that usually makes me want to sleep, I am semi-comatose on the couch, warm under my blanket. Go upstairs and cuddle with the wife thought came up, but knowing how annoyed she gets if awake early on a Sunday morning, it was abandoned. No sire Bob, She’s not a morning person; actually she’s basically a person who is not a person person. If you get my drift. That was what attracted her to me in the first place anyway.

So back to semi-watching England’s run chase as I type this. Wish one day all the England batsmen will click in one innings. They do have a wonderful batting line up which rarely fires at the same time.

The songs stopped. Sweet Home Alabama, surprised no one has remade it with Sweet Home Obama. If you do, send me the CD.

The rains completely stopped too.

I have to go now. The dogs scratching the lounge door. He wants to go for our long Sunday ramble.

Daylight has dawned. Bye!

Please Mrs. Robinson...

Mrs. Anne Robinson said:

http://www.guardian.co.uk/travel/2013/jan/26/anne-robinson-sri-lanka-holiday

I say,

Mrs. Robinson


Your honesty about the relationship with your daughter’s refreshing. 


But your insensitive comments about visiting a tropical country and the way you portray verbally imagery of a poor third world is honestly annoying.  For someone who has travelled extensively you would have known about the food and the tropical conditions in the country your visiting.

Sri Lanka retains the simple charm of a country in development. Yes, its hot and humid, it’s a tropical island.

By far in the South Asian region, we’re one of the countries that have a good record of birth control, public services and free medical care.

Sri Lankan’s understand the British well and most people speak a few words of English and understand it reasonably well. For a backward country like ours, as you so depict, we’re proud of the fact that most of us are bi or tri-lingual.

The English are well represented in Sri Lanka. The new spacious and luxurious premises of the UK High Commission in Colombo 7, Sri Lanka’s St. Johns Wood illustrates this.The fact that British Airways will recommence flights to Sri Lanka itself shows the world that we have well recovered from 30 years of terrorism.


Sri Lanka is truly a paradise island.

The very quirkiness that made the British Empire colonise it from 1815 to 1948 and leave with great reluctance. Most of its roads are key trade roads built for us by the British. We have constantly upgraded these roads and built many more.

Rain or not. As many Brits say, there’s no bad weather, just the right clothes. The rain in the tropics may fall heavily, but the average temperatures of 25 to 35 makes it extremely pleasant when rain does fall.


The charm of Sri Lanka and our tourism offer is truly appreciated by everyone all over the world. I am sincerely sorry that you seem to have somehow missed the beauty of our country, the culture and the people.

I end with apologies for my command of your language Madame. I am but a Sri Lankan domiciled in your truly wonderful country. 


I wish I could have written this in my mother tongue to express myself and the beauty of Sri Lanka better.


http://invisiblemigrant.blogspot.co.uk


Dhammika Dharmawardhane

Borehamwood, Herts, England.

If you know what you’re going to find, let it be.

Sitting here watching Breaking News on BBC of the Egypt unrest. Live bullets have been used in Cairo and other cities. At least five protestors marking the second anniversary of the uprising have been shot dead. As I write BBC News confirm that five are dead in Suez City. Police and demonstrators continue to clash in Tahir Square.

The current government have apparently being having double standards in everything they do. Sounds familiar to you? In many ways than one?

The Arab Spring.

Libya

Are you no better when you shoot and kill those who you promised to bring to justice?

Syria

Finally all western civilians have been asked to immediately leave Syria. The mayhem and killing continue. The country no longer one, just one huge war zone.

Bahrain

An otherwise rumble in Formula 1 land?

Honestly can you tell me anyone of these countries is any better? Even marginally?

I continue to glance up at the TV. The violence in Egypt continues. I quickly switch to Al Jazeera. Surprisingly it’s news hour and world news!

Nothing changes. North Korea continues to build nuclear armament. Latest is to accuse South Koreans of encouraging North Koreans to defect and of double defection.

Back to BBC News. Just more violence and wrongdoing.

Democracy is easy for me to preach in my little castle in Hertfordshire. So is it for the great western democrat. It’s not us who are dying.

Everyone who is dead, or going to die knew that before the Arab Spring. Yet were convinced that their death was worth the fight for Democracy. Did they really believe they would die? Did they not think this could all go tits up and I’ll be dead? My country will take another century to recover from this Arab Spring?

Take haste my fellow Sri Lankans. Remember from the frying pan to the fire. A retired Army General, an Ex-lawmaker, and a bunch of gay boys can never be better. Their Excellency’s the Rajapaksa’s, have fought a great war for Sri Lanka. Let us reap the benefits of that great victory.

Even the west suddenly understands our potential. The return to Sri Lanka of British Airways is a good omen of greater things to come.

Give the Excellency’s the Rajapaksa’s  time.

Excellency’s we plead with you to govern well.

Time is on our hands; time to ponder, before it’s too late for anyone.

Like the Arab Spring. Egypt, Syria, Libya…

Long live Sri Lanka!

The paradise isle.

Anarchy’s never the answer to peace.

Snowbound in hell

In a nation gripped by cold weather, the prozaced citizens become nothing but miserable, shivering, coughing, sneezing, and snivelling snot. I am one of them now. I dedicate the poem below to myself. That’s what my therapist recommended anyway.

There is always something else you know

Everything else and this something I chose

Not them, I did

But Lord Skanda decided to not choose me

No sir, not I

You can win in many ways

More ways than one

I chose the wrong way

For Lord Skanda did not walk before me

I choose no enemies

Nor they me

Anger, revenge, that’s not my choice

I live

Therefore, I want to live well

Oh Lord Skanda,

I hope you choose soon

You already have.

I am not proud, please Lord, and let me be, again, proud.

Pride in my loved ones you give

I want to be proud of myself

Give me a choice.

RIP?

Have you ever been so angry that you teach yourself to control the anger for you know that if you really let go, you wouldn't really know what'll happen...

That's the only reason I believe in God. Not for health or wealth. For keeping me sane. 

Congratulations President Obama! Dhammika Dharmawardhane's assured for sure!

Monday, late evening. The temperature outside still flirts between zero and one centigrade. The wind blows hard, gusts even slightly rattling the double glazed back door. It’s pitch black and freezing outside. Inside it’s warm, warm in his old couch and warm in his heart. Dhammika is home.

Happy that he saw the most powerful man in the US, the Black Man, inaugurated for successive terms. The world will always have hope, the Black Man assures.

Speak English motherfucker! It’s the language of the future. Fucking Mandarins will never let you ‘in’ anyways.

Pardon the French, Dhammika is celebrating life.

Cooke's 50 video - Snowbound and bored, I'm fiddling!

I hear you Rabindranath, WONDERFULLY - Dhammika Dharmawardhane

I hear you Rabindranath, WONDERFULLY – Dhammika Dharmawardhane.

‘1989 another summer, sound of the funky drummer, doing what I am doing…’

Flavour Flav, Public Enemy and the intro to Spike Lee’s movie ‘Do the right thing’ in that summer 1989.

Meanwhile, far away in 909, S.Davies Street, Kirksville, Missouri. In front of Missouri Hall, Truman University and next to the Sigma Ep Gamma house lived I, Dhammika Dharmawardhane.

I have and always will choose the less trodden, tricky, and barred path. I may cry more, but so do I, my friends, so much do I, REJOICE.

SO MUCH LIKE THIS HOUSE, SO LONG AGO MY HOME, SHATTERED AND BATTERED, BUT STILL STANDING, PROUDLY!

I hear you Rabindranath, WONDERFULLY.

Dhammika Dharmawardhane