Brink

My beach sandals shall come to know of a day when they cannot press the sand anymore. They do not know why they hurt the sand and anyone who comes in between. Each step hears the cry of many whom they never ever met before. And they simply stamp a relic like the ink between a block print. The burden left a mark so deep that their weep dripped a salt strained in a sieve unforgiving. If they had the will they can fly aloft where the sweet winds can carry the cold smile of them. Like why we do the things we do there are so many reasons that neither they nor I may ever know and yet we do and they remain with us.

Then come a day, a day as close as the light that touches me, when my sandals will step on a rim. That is when they shall say, “Oh! The one who holds the press, try if you can, and print a mark with me. For now we have come at the edge of the storm, where the thunder deafens my ears and I can hear you no more. And now we have come to a point of no return, and the lightening blinds my sight so guide me if you can. Now that we have climbed up the tall smooth and shiny bottle, a fragile one that is slippery yet colourful and reflects that we do. We made it halfway up the neck and still not enough and here we are today almost about to step on the lip.”

Imagine the moment on the brink from where we shall journey all the way again but on the other side. Like a fairy we shall fly and like a firefly we shall glow. Before our reflections were smaller since we were crawling along the outer surface of the bubble. And if we ever pass through we shall see ourselves no matter which way we turn.

My sandals shall come to know of this day and that moment when I can no more lay my burdens on them. I cannot imagine the everlasting floating selflessness that I shall be when passing through the rim. And it is when I shall leave my sandals at the threshold of myself.

National Day

As we celebrate National Day remember that we, "the people", is the nation. We are like a tree, from a seed we grow and spread and bear fruit and continue to grow. We branch in many directions and in varying sizes. Sometimes we shed leaves, but only to give way for new leaves to grow. Although very true that the young leaves collect the source of food from the sun necessary for survival, without the roots, which hold a tree firmly in all extreme conditions, those food from the leaves are but only a falling dream.

Though we are a mix of peoples, with differing thoughts and ideas, it is together that we can become the nation we dream. Like our olden boats, having no engine at all, they cross great oceans. They knew that if they made a sail to catch the wind, which even if they never saw, could take them to greater distances. The only condition was to go along with the wind, together our ancestors, the boat they made and the wind they made history in maritime culture.

Where is “my country” which I cannot see and yet I dream about? Where is “my nation” which I cannot touch and yet her warm embrace shelters me? Where is “my mother-tongue” which I cannot spell and yet her whisper is like a spell on me? Where is “my national anthem” which I cannot hear and yet she cries aloud? Where is “my mother-land” which I cannot smell and yet spreads her sweet scent on me? Where is “my people” whom I never felt and yet all around me?

Today we must not forget the socio economic problems that sleep with us today. I hear all concerned talk of the problems day and night and on voice, picture and paper. Talking is good that it is a beginning. And more, today we must talk, yes talk but about the solution and not the problem. There are different walks of life that people pursue today. For simply an economic benefit if they keep on talking until a next offer is at their hand we shall keep on talking.

I am putting a pencil on my table and I want you to tell me how to take that pencil from the table. Although when tomorrow realizes actually to become a today, there will surely be many thoughts and ideas of how to take that pencil. Some might even present beautiful presentations on how to take that pencil. Others will surely submit detailed technical reports with facts and calculations. Interesting suggestions might even be given to bring in expert help and heavy machinery to lift that pencil. Days might pass simply filling my mind and my desk too with “how to take a pencil” research data.

But I simply forward my hand and lift the pencil. To do that it took me only a second. It is the will to do what I want to do with what I have and in limited time for the benefit of everyone.

I wish all a smiling future.

Memoirs of My Childhood - Part 2 (1973 - 1976)

Montessori
I remember enjoying these three years. I do not recall the first day. But on many days i try not to stay there with strangers. One day some girl bit me on my cheek and i was given some sweets to stop me from crying. My mom said that i had an oval and dashed cut marks on my cheek from the teeth of the one who bit me. Other than a few faces, i cannot bring to my mind the many children i played with.
I went to school on the paddle of my fathers bicycle. This journey was an interesting inspiration which i carried in my mind for long. The footsteps of my father, the sound of the bicycle wheel turning on non even sand roads, the talk of the passing people and the bell of the bicycle which i played with. The "walking" buildings that became bigger as they came closer, the few vehicles on the road zooming in as they go and the shadows playing around. Most interesting was the rainy days when there were puddles on the road. This is when i can see the reflections.
We stop some days at a shop (70 no. Majeedhee Road) to buy cotton candies. It is something i was surprised with. how the shop keeper made those candies was the interesting part. He put a stick into a steel box with a circular hole in it and turned his hand in a circular motion. After sometime when he put his hand out, i was shocked to see a pink cotton like fluffy thing around the stick. he told me to press it and eat. But some days i do not press but tried to eat quickly and the sugar get stuck on my face. The other sweets of the time that i liked was a yellow coloured rectangular pineapple flavour candy called "alanaasi metaa", a pink colour oval candy called "delta metaa", a small square locally made "one laari" sugar candy and a circular rainbow striped candy. But now i think that these must be the only few candies available those days.
There was a large frangipani tree at a corner of the school. This tree is still there as a center piece of the public space now outside of the school. A steel square structure was kept at the play area and it was fun climbing it. Some days  i use to sit and play on a rocking horse. One day some kid pulled it so hard that i nearly fell. What i remember most are counting sticks which i thought was long "kana-madhu" (indian almonds).
My teacher was Nirmala whom i still remember. I met her in recent years and even she still remembers.  I remember her as an always smiling one. I do not remember her in any other mood. She was a kind and polite Sri Lankan teacher who married a Maldivian and was later in school management.
The day my pre schooling ended i took a picture at home, in school uniform and with my other siblings. My father prepared a banner reading "finished montessori - 1976". I still have this photo and have a look every now and then to recap the good old moments. I remember the day we took the photo. My younger sister, who was the youngest then, was trying not to come for the picture.

Memoirs of My Childhood – Part 1 (1971 – 1976)

I do not remember 1971 or 1972. My pre 1976 memories include dancing grass, moving shadows, a little sandpiper, coral masonry without doors, a twinkling red light and endless sea.

Some days I simply squat in this dancing grass. It is when the morning light is soft and low. I hide there quietly motionless until I feel the warmth of the glowing afternoon. I see my shadow dance with the tall thin grass of many greens. This wind that comes to me, no one sees but my closed eyes. Pass beyond me it goes chasing the grass and the grass runs to hide.

Some days I sit under the portia tree at the entrance of our home. Then, it was not the tree which interests me, but now I admire and collect the timber of it. I remember staring at the shadows under the tree. I see slow moving groups of many circles in varying neutral tones. Overlay into one another making deeper shades of intersections. And little orange ladybugs with black dots on its back move around it.

One day I remember we had a little sandpiper bird. It was very quick in moving around the house. It went into a hole in the coral masonry and never came back.

These walls had no doors for some time. Only a light cotton curtain covered the entrance. I remember the nights when we sleep. This curtain rise when that wind which no one sees pass through. That is when I see a twinkling red light from a distant dark sky. Later I knew that it was a signal light at the top of the television station tower.

In front of our home is the ring road, then called the marine drive, of the capital and beyond is the endless sea. A light blue green is all I see for a far distance. My elder brother takes me to the sea without telling mother. He is always too active unlike me. I remember the sea was fun. There is a very deep certain area on the left side in a distance. The people of the town call that location Amelia Depths. Amelia was a famous dancer who lived during that time. And later I came to know why people named that deep area by her name. It seems that she gave birth to her child in the depths of that lagoon. I was fascinated with the colourful fishes and the corals and seashells that we find plenty. But the interesting part is the return home after the enjoyment from the sea. From returning we quietly go to the bathroom for a shower. The bathroom is a large detached outdoor place with coconut thatched walls. At one side is a large well surrounded by a circular cement floor. There is a cylindrical tin a foot in diameter and to it is fixed a long round stick. We call it “dhaani”, and it is used to take water out from the well and we pour on our head for a great shower.

Everyday on our return from the sea we get caught by our mother. This was really frightening for me but still I join him the next day.