Grandmother

She was old and mind riddled with dementia, confined to bed and cared for by my aunt…those are my personal memories of my maternal Grand Mother… She had been a quiet housewife who looked after my mum and her sisters to the best of her ability.  I’ve not heard any brave or heroic deeds done by her and hardly remember her speak,  but amazingly it’s  in her I see a role model to aspire to….in answer to my query about my Grand Mother, my mother’s brief but unchanging answer is… “she cared for the four of us and my father, went to the temple, used to offer Dana to the wandering mendicants who used to sometimes take shelter in the area. She hardly went around visiting neighbours  … NEVER TALKED ABOUT ANY ONE AND NEVER EVER LISTENED IN ON GOSSIP… SHE JUST WAS NOT INTERESTED, used to always read books…” simple words about a simple woman who bore a lot of hardship in life without voicing her opinions aloud, trained her children to follow her Husband’s religion, made sure they attended church and was brought up in a catholic environment whilst quietly following her own Dhamma…Somehow I find this character enticing. I also remember my father’s words about her…. Again, the same recurring description when ever recalling his Mother-in-Law …. “She was a great Lady” ……… A life well lived?

Danigala Mahabandaralage Domba

 

 

This is Danigala Mahabandaralage Domba, Chief of the Polebedda Indigenous Community, once a strong and proud man who fiercely guarded and protected his people. But age has left him blind, and the move from the jungle to the village in search of greener pastures left him and his people bereft of their familiar environment without the resources, capacity and more importantly without the inherited or acquired mental state to till the land and make it prosper. Their tale of woe is too long and tragic for me to narrate here and Im still wondering what best way to make their voice heard in the right places. What touched my heart was the way they provided us with a load of information unasked but what they have been so used to dishing out to those who periodically come their way to help. The typical statistics that have filled many a dust filled box file in Government and NGO offices. But I did pick up a tinge of weariness and cynicism in the sons voice albeight faint almost as if too fearful to voice doubt else his prayer would fail. Even sadder was on how they felt they had to sing old tribal songs, recite poems and show off their old way of life to keep us engaged and provoke our interest. It tore my heart that this Proud Chief, a leader of our inheritance deemed it necessary to recite his poems and told us many times that we could record it if we wanted (again something which they think they had to succumb to) in thanks to a few meager rupees we gave them. We found his hamlet about 11 Km off Maha Oya Town. The turn off is the road to Rambakan Oya.. Please do visit him and his people should you travel that way. He is old and feeble but there is a sense of history and gentle dignity that warms the heart. http://www.ripplesonwater.org/Docs/Asoka%27s%20Story.pdf I found a mention of the Chief in this article and was touched by the description of him compared to his state now.

Avurudu

Avurudu!!! I’m loving this time of year…love the feeling of closure, a sweeping sense of finale in the air… people around me packing up, happily looking forward to a long break, I feel the joy and wonder of those expectations… hope the new year actually brings in the renewal so eagerly awaited…As for me, I love the feeling peace and quiet and oh those beautiful traditions… traditions I’ve inherited mostly through marriage…It’s a time to try my hand at various traditional sweets, cleaning the house and buying a new broom rug and a pot…. How I love the feel and fragrance of new clay…come new year and it shall be heralded with as much enthusiasm as I can gather, light the hearth and set a table with Kiribath and sweetmeats…most of the homely traditions have fallen by the wayside but it’s nothing but a good feeling to visit relations and share trays of food…to teach my son all that’s good and beautiful of the timeless traditions of Avurudu… but as he rightly said… what is Avurudu without Kavum? So it is time to get cracking on trying my hand at perfecting a Konde Kavum …till then I leave you with my experience with Unduvel… It took a better part of my day, and left me with smoke congested lungs, but still, its Avurudu and for me, what is Avurudu without Unduvel….Oba Samata Suba Aluth Avuruddak Wewa…


 

 

Traditional Kitchen

I hardly realized the charm of my kitchen until I stumbled upon an article describing the ancient Sri Lankan kitchen. Browsing through the various photographs depicted in the article made me realize the utensils described although ancient and going out of use in a modern kitchen was still  around me and very much a part of my life, although hardly appreciated (until now) and given its due respect. What follows is a look around my kitchen with renewed love for it and a recipe for the best kind of rice puller, roasted coconut and gamboge (goraka) sambol, excellent for a weak stomach, eaten with warm rice. 

Ingredients: A few pieces of Coconut, Pepper pods, salt, one dried red Chillie, Goraka (Gamboge), Karapincha and Garlic. (The garlic was forgotten in the excitement of the photo shoot and added in later.)  Garlic being an essential ingredient adds flavor, softness and much medicinal value. 

The forgotten garlic J

 Ramani ( love of my life and treasure beyond compare) breaking off pieces of coconut using the Coconut Scraper.

The pieces of Coconut and Gamboge are buried under hot ash of the wood stove or Dara Lipa. 

My stove… a dingy converted windowless room, black as hell and full of smoke…my pride and joy!

Check out the pot of salt in the corner if you can see through the smoky haze 

……and the fire wood collection (mostly picked by trespassing on neighboring property, dried and stored before the rains)

Once the Coconut and Gamboge has been roasted for 5 to 10 minutes under hot embers it is taken out and washed well. (I’ve also heard it is better to wipe the ash off rather than washing)

 

Roasted coconut

The beauty of the grinding stone…. All ingredients are ground to a pulp by adding a few drops of water….

Ramani at work ….

…and her beautiful daughter.

 The final product… A labour of love, looks as good as it tastes. 

Burned Coconut and Gamboge Sambol is a delicacy of medicinal value when eaten with hot rice.  Said to be a soothing meal for new mums during the first few days after delivery….

A glance around the kitchen…..

Wang Gediya and Kurahan Gala… more grinding and pounding stones… 

Coconut Scraper

Indiappan Watti (for making string hoppers) 

A collection of Chatty Pots and Koraha

Coconut Spoons

Roti Thatiya, Malu Laalla and Broom…

Manna or Knife used for cracking coconuts

Kulla and Watti ( woven trays for sorting and drying and of beauty beyond compare) 

Billing fruit, ready to be salted and dried… another rice puller...

Preparing Bandakka (Ladies Fingers ) curry

Kos Etta (Jak fruit seeds) preserved to be used when Jak fruit is out of season… J

None of these are a rarity or exotic to a Sri Lankan eye. This is what we grew up with but discarded for the newest electric blender, grinder and gas stove. Notwithstanding the ease and practicality of modern equipment and the comparatively sheer waste of time spent over a wood stove and cleaning soot laden chatty pots…. who could resist the charm of a traditional kitchen…

I heard a violin cry, yes I did last evening....listening to Mozart's Sonata for Piano and Violin in E minor, a beautiful heart wrenching rendition by Shani Diluka on Piano and Gabriel Le Magadure on Violin...  I learned this composition was written by Mozart after his mother's death...in August 1777, Mozart and his mother set off on a quest to find a job to Mozart's liking, during which time he commenced his work on this Sonata, soon after which his mother fell ill and died... and last evening Gabriel brought back the dark moods and the shadows that would have plagued Mozart during this composition and the Violin cried, bled  and sighed his anguish leaving the audience in the grip of this haunting sadness...

I was lucky to be the audience of a show presented by the Mano Chanmugam Music Foundation featuring Shani, Gabriel and Valentin Erben the Cellist. I looked on when Valentin played on his Cello, the famous Matteo Gofriller Cello 1722, ( a two hundred and ninety one year old venerable piece of instrument people !!!)

Together these three made their instruments cry, laugh, thunder and rain on the lucky audience and took us all through the Sonata for Piano and Cello No.3 in A major Op. 69... and the agony of Ludwig Van Beethoven having lost his hearing and an unsuccessful attempt at suicide. I felt his pain of loss and also his mustering of strength and joy in the notes of the finale....

Music came alive last evening when these three super musicians gave us a rendition of Franz Schubert  a man who knew he was dying and gave his all to this composition and actually died once it was completed... I relived his pathos in No.2 in E flat major D. 929 ...Shani, Gabriel and Valantin played Schubert's own words 'Imagine someone whose health will never be right again, and whose sheer despair makes things ever worse rather than trying to improve matter; imagine someone whose highest hopes have been dashed and to whom happiness of love and friendship brings only pain; whose enthusiasm for all things beautiful threatens to forsake him'

I hardly knew the history or background of these great musicians,   the great classics remained great classics, to be enjoyed by those 'others'.... however last evening Mozart, Bethovan, Schubert, Greig and Dedussy became human, they cried for lost mothers, loves and in fear of their mortality, they hated the cold, loved the East, longed to Travel and being unable to do so created imaginary music about the east.... the 'Greats' became one of us and those 'Others' that imbibe in the classics simply became 'me'

Thank you Mr. Chanmugam for a treat to the senses....

Masked

'Drop your mask, be true to your self', 'know your self' .... these are lines I read and hear and makes me wonder. 'Know thy self ' is a killer topic I've pondered for ages and drifted constantly from  hence shall leave it for later discussion...

I was chatting with a friend this morning, trying to dissect the line 'drop your mask, be true to your self '.... I for one cannot fathom where the mask drops and where I begin, try as I may it is a fine line if such a line exists at all and I've not yet figured the boundaries.

My friend argued that for example if I do not like someone but is nice to such person that being nice is my mask which would eventually drop However, for me being nice to that person and not showing my dislike though on the face of it seems like two layers is but just one nature that's me. The nature of not wanting to show any dislike, a nature of avoiding the embarrassment of a face off, a nature of wanting to be liked and may be thought of and spoken off as amiable and nice... Therefore the 'mask' of being nice to that person I do not really like in fact is no mask at all to my comprehension. That essentially is what I am, possibly hypocritical, possibly weak, but a MASK? not really, its what I am, A me that wants to be liked... So at which point does my 'real self' cease and I don a mask? its not really clear ... Its all me... with a mask?

Old age

Old age

Dry, flaking, wrinkled skin

feeble limbs and slow gait

visiting my aging parents,

a stark snapshot of mortality

I'm scared

Rodeo memories

I love food and I love atmosphere, I also love being with people I'm comfortable with. It all came together last afternoon at the Rodeo Pub in Negombo. Mixed fried rice and a Pork Stew of course spiced up to suit a Sri Lankan palate. Flavorful of ginger garlic and lemon grass washed down with a cool beer and in the best of company. Somehow Rodeo with its huge cactus and high tables not to mention the brilliant waiters touched my heart...

A new day and a new possibility, blogging my vagrant thoughts... wonder what it will unfold.