Thursday, February 28, 2008

Wednesday, February 27, 2008

The Tea-Boy

Jayampathi nodded off on the way home, lulled into sleep by the rocking of the bus as it travelled into the suburbs.

“What is the matter” asked Mala, his wife noticing the look of worry on his face; oh she knew her man so well. “Nothing” he replied, “It’s not a big thing. These new people, it is not easy with them.”

The firm he worked for was a medium size one; it employed more than one hundred people. When it opened, it was very nice with everyone very excited about the future.

Jayampathi worked there as the tea boy, it was his job to make the tea for the people in the office twice a day, it was an important job, everyone missed him when he did not come to work on his off day or when he took leave! Before the morning tea round, his first job was to get breakfast for most of the staff. Some of the staff did not eat before work, and many of them preferred to just buy something; that was his job, to get the breakfast and lunch too later on.

When Mala heard of this she had a good idea. “I can make breakfast for them” she said, “Will they pay?” He asked a few people and they seemed to like the idea – what will you bring they wanted to know. “String hoppers, bread, with pol sambol and parripu hodi or potato.”

Now he sold more than fifteen packets every morning. When it was bread, he used to buy it from the petti kade near his house. The rest, his wife made early morning. The profit was small, but it all added up at the end of the month; every single cent counted today.

But then things changed. The two big bosses in the company were rogues. They stole, cheated the owners, things were very bad for a long time. The owners put their own people in the company, people from their country, people who looked down upon the staff because they thought they were all cheaters like the two boss’s.

It was difficult after that. The two were sacked after sometime. Other people left. A lot of things were taken away; even the cleaning service was stopped. That was when they told Jayanpathi that he did not have enough work, that he would have to do more or… he knew what that meant, he could not afford to lose his job. So he agreed, agreed to do something that he did not want to only because he had to keep his job.

So now, now he had to make the tea, go and bring the lunch, make the tea again, wash all the cups and saucers, even the plates and lunch boxes sometimes because some people did not do that after eating. Twice a week he had to clean all the rooms.

He was tired. The people who were there from the other country ate only from one shop – that was quite far away. They refused to give him fare for the bus, so he had to use the bicycle that was given to run errands. Others in the staff did not eat from that shop so he had to go to different places for them all. It was difficult now, he was always so tired.

Now things were better and it was also worse. The cheats were gone, but now there were people who did not know how to get people to work. They did what they wanted to, they were careless and no one said anything. They did their work because they had to, very few out of love out of a sense of honour. Business was there, but it was done badly and customers were not happy. Every month the staff worried about getting paid on time.

Some people thought that this could not last for very long, that no one would go on putting so much money, like pouring water into a well to keep the company afloat.

But finding a new job was not easy. Jayampathi knew he was lucky. Sarath his friend who worked in another department had to travel for more than 3hrs every day just to come to work. He left his home in the dark, before the sun came out, went home in the dark, a very long time after it had set.

It was good to come home he thought as he stepped in through the door. They lived in a small house, not too far from the city centre. It was a nice neighbourhood, not always quiet, but with people who were there when you needed help. Office cleaners, tri-shaw drivers, security guards, even a few school teachers lived here.

“Duwe” he cried, “Where are you?” Ah, Priyangi, his pride and joy, his life, his daughter. The reason he did what he had to do, for her, for a better future for her.

Monday, February 25, 2008


Friday, February 22, 2008

Indian Summer?

I really don't know what to say....

That it was just a matter of time was something that I always knew, but you know, I thought that finally, something good was gonna happen, and stay happened in my life.

Those moments were moments of contentment, of happiness, of an all prevaling sense of calmness.

Nothing last forever, nothing good stays with me.... But I will carry one thing with me all my life, I will carry this.

Monday, February 11, 2008


I've been off for the last two weeks, kicking back and enjoying the simpler pleasures that life has to offer - sleeping in late, lazing on the beach in the sun, spending time with friends, reading.

Mid week found me lost in contemplation of the beauty of life, of the nature of relationships and those singular moments in life that set direction. It was an exquisite experiance, a moment in time.

Having opened The Mangroves up, I've been returning there frequently to spend a day or two, sitting back to savour the pleasure that I derive from it. Friends have visted and we've knocked a few drinks back sitting outside on the steps. Thanks to Black_Stilettos I've aquired a taste for Mojito's, I must make more!!!

Saturday was a good day, spent in the company of a dear friend, it was certainly one for the books. Black_Stilettos and I spent the day jumping in and out of our carriage snapping away at anything that looked interesting, ending with over 500 photographs 'tween the two of us by day's end.

That I eventually ended up on my favourite beach down the coast, drinking beer and admiring the view only added to my sense of well-being. T'was a happy man to amble home.

The week was good, I am content with my lot

Friday, February 8, 2008

White Flag

"I will go down with this ship And I won't put my hands up and surrender There will be no white flag above my door I'm in love and always will be" Dido

I've been staring at those words for the last 20 minutes, my mind filled with a swirl of thoughs, my emotions wild and free, hurt and tethered. I've sort solance in the words of the Little Prince, of tamings and of the wheat fields, of a fox and a rose and of the baobab's.

I sort escape in speed this morning, pushing myself,testing my machine and it brought back to me another time long past when I did the same, recklessly so. At that time I sort oblivion, and yet did not have the courage to follow through. I dont know what it is I sort today.

My life has become a kaleidoscope of emotion, every single hue swirling around me, lifiting me high into the sky one moment only to cast me into the depths of sadness. It is a terrible place to be, it is a wonderful place to be, but I am not alone.

I would feel this than feel nothing at all.

Life, Hope, Wish and Desire

Tuesday, February 5, 2008

Murphy’s Law

Shit happens, Murphy’s Law rules and life, must go on, for the options are rather limited.

My own ‘being’ seems to have been a series of mis-timings, things happening to me either too soon, or too late; the end result has been a life that is more less than perfect. Which is quite a bummer consider that by the laws of average, things should at least balance out.

Quite early on I came to the conclusion that I was born either too late or too early, that my very existence was in fact badly timed. This was quickly followed by the realisation that I was in possession of too great an imagination and prone to wonder off into a world of my own which basically excluded everyone else around me. Aliens, dragons, space ships, walks on barren lunar like surfaces dominated my imagination along with epic wars as my 20th century toy solders stormed a medieval castle defended by knights and roman soldiers. It was about this time that I also discovered the effect gunpowder had upon plastic as my carefully placed charges melted my troops as they went off.

So where is this taking me? I have no idea, I don’t know where I am going, but I am, enthusiastically on my way.

Monday, February 4, 2008

It is not easy
For I feel it with every fibre of my being
It is not easy
The path is rough
It is not easy
I do so because I believe

Tiz done

The Mangroves is open. On the last day of the first month of this New Year a dream completed. A few days short of eight months and the retreat is finished. Not fully so, but it is habitable.

The last week was a bitter sweet one, from the darkness I found my way back to the light and happy I am.

The rituals for moving to a new house include the boiling of milk, allowing it to overflow, to lighting the hearth for the preparation of the first meal. Each act undertaken at a pre determined auspicious time based upon ones own birth.

The nights so far have proven to be cool ones, marred only by the presence of mosquitoes - easily solved by the use of a net.