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Showing posts from January, 2016

The girl in the grey dress and white shoes

The first thing I noticed about her were her shoes. They were white patent leather, a heel of an inch or so. They were cracked and looked well-used. Her feet were at an angle that annoys me to great extent. One foot pointing straight, the other at a 45 degree angle. Her legs were thin and ordinary looking. But something about her footwear made me want to look at her face. I was in a bus headed towards Colombo. It was a time between 8 and 8.30am, outside the Moratuwa station. She was walking in the opposite direction, in no hurry. Taking slow and somewhat clumsy steps, as if her shoes were uncomfortable. So I looked up, at her body and then face. Her dress was a gray strapless dress that clung to her body awkwardly. Her body was like a plank. Her face... She had short hair. Dark skin. She wasn't beautiful. But she wasn't ugly either. And yet, she was much more feminine and attractive than the transsexuals I have seen before. You look at her and you know she was a woman trapped i

Dear...

Dear postman, Thank you. You didn't do anything extraordinarily nice or kind. You didn't even say much. But you gave me a reason to feel happy early in the morning. Dear the driver and conductor of the morning bus, Thank you for reminding me that people can be nice without expecting anything in return. Thank you for not only giving the balance of two rupees but also for offering to drop me where there wasn't even a bus stop. Thank you for giving me a reason to walk to office with a smile on my face. Dear dude wearing too much perfume, I wouldn't usually thank someone like you but your perfume smelled amazing. Thank you Dear evening three-wheeler driver, You didn't know De Silva Road. You asked me for directions. When we got to the road, you asked me if it was Silva Road I was talking about. The whole thing made me laugh. Thank you Dear whoever is responsible for the traffic jam on New Galle Road's Moratuwa area, Fuck you and your fucking parade. Th

Ho Gaana Pokuna

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I easily cry but not many movies can make me cry, even if it’s just a tear or two. Ho Gaana Pokuna did make me cry and it was one of those rare movies that make you feel all these emotions. The movie is beautiful and amazing but there are a few issues I have with it. This post contains major Ho Gaana Pokuna spoilers!!! The plot is simple. There are so many movies like this. Someone is sent to a rural area and teaches at the village school. The villagers are at first skeptical and critical but the teacher manages to do something life-changing for the children and even the village. In Ho Gaana Pokuna, the teacher is a female in love with the university student union rebel type. She gets the opportunity to teach at a rural village and takes on the challenge. When she gets to the village, the students don’t expect her to stay for long. No teacher has been with them for long. She introduces a morning assembly where each student gets to speak about any topic they like. At

Playing the blame game

He leans against a wall and watches her. She ignores him. Sure, he's cute but he seems dangerous. And she doesn't know him. His friends notice him watching her. They tease him and tell him she'll only be his in his dreams. He spits on the ground and says, "she's just another whore." His friends laugh. He is to blame. She looks at her daughter's outfit and frowns. "Wear something else," she says. Her daughter protests, "There's nothing wrong with this outfit." "How can you walk on the road wearing such tight pants?" she asks. Her daughter goes back to her room and wears loose fitting clothes. They go to buy vegetables. She pretends she doesn't hear the men who whistle at her daughter. She is to blame. He holds his daughter's tiny hand tightly. He makes sure she gets to the other side of the road safely. He waits outside the gates until his daughter walks into her classroom. He gets into a bus, headed to of

Will you always remember me?

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Two days ago, I made the mistake of reading Norwegian Wood right after reading Kafka on the Shore. I have read both books before but never the Kafka Sinhala translation and never two Murakami books one after the other. One of my favorite Kafka on the Shore quotes is this: "I want you to remember me, then I don't care if everybody else forgets." The words are so powerful and yet, the request so simple. Norwegian Wood also has a similar quote. "I want you always to remember me. Will you remember that I existed, and that I stood next to you here like this?" And I'm sure so many other books also have similar quotes. Hazel and Augustus speak about something similar in The Fault in our Stars. Pudge too, in Looking for Alaska, speaks of someday remember only having forgotten. So it's not something new or never thought of before. But today, reading those words that Naoko says hit me more than ever before. Something about remembering that Miss Saeki said somethin

What parents often forget...

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I don't have parents who have given me a key to the house and don't ask me where I'm going and don't care what time I get back at (they have given me a key to the house though, but I don't know where it is). I don't have parents who are okay with me coming home whenever I feel like it. I don't have parents who let me do whatever I want, come home a mess and think it's okay because it means I'm independent. But I also don't have parents who demand to know all my friends and their phone numbers. I don't have parents who don't let me talk or meet boys or go on overnight trips. I don't have parents who go through my phone and check who I talk to. I don't have parents who force me to do something I don't like. I love my parents. I love that they aren't strict but they still maintain parent-status and don't try to be my best buddies! Most people who see my tattoos ask me, "How did you get your parents' permissio

Christmas cards and the little things in life

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Christmas, for me, is all about kindness and small gestures that can give another a reason to smile. Christmas, for me, is about love and happiness and togetherness. I've always loved making cards and sending them to people I love. I've always loved the process of deciding what gifts to buy and how to wrap them. This year, I was heading towards Christmas with a heavy heart and mind. I was lost in life and feeling quite purpose-less. So I asked my friends on Twitter and Facebook to send me their address if they would like a Christmas card. To be completely honest, this wasn't to make other people happy. It was because I needed my life to be something. I needed to keep myself busy. So I made the cards and card-making is always fun. I made sure each card was different from the rest and made envelopes in various colors. People I had met, people I hadn't met, people I speak to a lot, people I rarely speak to; it didn't matter who was getting the card. All that mattered w