'Cause Pigs can Fly

(Before we go any further, I do need to say that this post isn’t meant to hurt anyone or remind them of things of the past. It’s not meant to be mean, or make subtle digs at anyone. It’s not meant to lead to conversation. This post is for myself, in hopes that by the end of it I will see that 2022 wasn’t an entirely bad year)   Things wouldn’t be complete if I didn’t reflect on 2022 like everyone else, so here goes: A look back at a year that was peppered with more than just a pinch of loss. And not just in the form of death.   It started at the very beginning of the year. Literally. A friendship ran its course, and of course, if we had both been perhaps kinder to each other, this would be a story for 2021. But we waited too long, so while the year will not be forever remembered by this particular incident, it will always remind me of it, which isn’t ideal, because this has been a year of forgetting. Forgetting people, drawing a blank when people say we’ve met before, ...

Before the monsoon rains come really hot days. They are unbearable. Amma would look at the sky, heavy and grey, and say, “It’ll rain today.” King coconut water brings some relief, but usually the days are spent with a certain restlessness. You sit in front of the fan, realise it does no good, walk to the veranda, hope for a breeze. And then finally, like a crack of thunder – and sometimes, accompanied by thunder – the clouds finally surrender and unleash torrential rains upon on us. By then, it’s a relief, even though we know floods await us. Weather warnings will keep the fishermen away from sea. The gloom and doom of a rainy day will only be brightened by umbrellas of all colours. You feel the cold, the damp in your bones. There’s a dull ache in your joints, and your pace slows. There’s no point in rushing. That relief you felt when the heat finally let up? It’s gone now. You are impatient for those warm, dry days, when buses didn’t splash muddy water on you and you didn’t have...

Word of the day: Hoontenanny An informal session at which folk singers and instrumentalists perform for their own enjoyment Let's talk about dating. I had issues with physical contact and intimacy for the longest time. Just two years ago, I stood in front of the mirror, tears in my eyes, coming to terms with the fact that I was probably going to end up alone. I thought I was asexual and while asexual people can be in relationships, there was also a lot to do with commitment, romance, love and a fear of heartbreak that complicated things in my mind. This is obviously a personal post, and I may even revert it to drafts. But I think this is something I need to talk about, for myself. To make sense of things. I spent my mid-teens and most of my 20s not really dabbling in dating or relationships or anything like that. There was obviously the lack of opportunity (I'm man-repellent) but there was also a fear of disappointing the other person or misleading them. I felt like it would be...

Friendship has always been something intense, requiring a level of commitment and investment. You give your friends your time and energy. A part of your heart, space in your life. You spend time with them, even there is no purpose for that meetup. You care about them, look out for them, and remember things about them. Maybe this is a rather childish idea of friendship. Do adults really have the time or energy for this sort of thing? I'd like to thing that some of us do. This is why I sometimes have trouble making new friends. If we share a moment that so clearly paves the way for some sort of future together and you don't make an effort to reach out, I will take it as a sign that you are not worth it. If you can't understand the expectations and elements or components of friendship, then one of us is going to deal with more hurt than the other. But to some, I'm realising, friendship is almost an afterthought. They are flippant about it. They won't invest as much tim...

TW: Suicide On the 24 th of December, a man died. To be precise, he killed himself. I don’t know the details. His age, the circumstances that led him to do it, whether he knew he would die that day when he woke up in the morning. All I know is that a train was involved. A train that had come to a halt somewhere between Panadura and Moratuwa, closer to Panadura, where I was headed after a long, long day. I was in a three-wheeler and was headed home after lunch with a friend. It was a day of endings for many people, I think, this man and myself included. But for me, it was just a feeling. For him, it was whatever happens to the human body when hit and run over by a train. I was exhausted. The previous day had been spent on my feet, baking. I had Christmas orders to be delivered on the 24 th and I went to bed at 4am, only to wake up at 7am. It was around noon by the time the deliveries were done and despite thinking I was done with baking until after Christmas, a few last minute o...

There are various things scattered around me. Some just a metre or two from where I stand. Others further away. Boxes that hold their shape, blobs that look like jelly. Different colours and different sizes. They all represent something. Work, studies, love, friendship, a house of my own, the kind of life I want to live in, pets, wine, money, good mental health, freedom to do whatever I want, a space of my own. Some of these things I want, others not so much. But there they are, scattered on the floor around me. They all seem like things I can have. Things I can just walk up to and pick up. If I choose today that I want a house of my own, all I have to do is take those five or six steps towards that purple blob and pick it up. So simple. The first step is not a problem. But with the second, I hit a wall. Strange, because I see no walls. I reach towards the invisible barrier and realise I’m in a glass box. A few things, boxes and blobs, are inside. And I can pick them up. I can ha...

When I was 21, a boy – or should I say man? – I wasn’t particularly fond of told me he liked me and because beggars can’t be choosers, I decided to give it a shot. When my mother got wind of this or maybe I just told her, she discouraged it, saying he was not suitable for me. She had a point. We were seated in the veranda when we had this conversation. It was past 7pm and too dark for us to see each other’s faces. A blessing, really, because I already felt so exposed. I remember saying, “I deserve to be happy.” A few days later, I told this boy I didn’t really like him and we ended things and he went on to find happiness elsewhere. Prior to this, I had only had one other person show any interest in me and he too, found happiness elsewhere. Since then, I’ve mostly remained by myself, convincing myself and those around me that I didn’t need a relationship or love. But I kept searching for happiness, because by then, the unhappiness I had felt since my teens had become a compa...