underground smoke and sheet

When you are a blunt guy living in a not so blunt world, you usually find it hard to see through the smoke. Or rather, you don't see the smoke at all. Social situations disintegrate under the unsubtle slash of the knife of direct statements that need to be buttered up, baked and served in a plate with blueberry pie instead.

Romantic options dwindle as you usually don't say what is 'expected' and skip the foreplay because you just know where your gonna end up anyway. Chicks are so shallow. Reminds me of russel crowe's little spat at the bar in 'a beautiful mind'. i can relate to the way he feels. does that make me a schizophrenic genius then? i dont know about the genius, but shizophrenia is not an unfamiliar sensation. lets hope the genius turns up soon. theres gotta be some upside to a chronic inability to get laid.

Casual conversations with new acquaintances turn into hurt and uncomfortable silences as you inadvertantly say something that was dancing around in your mind. So he stuttered, and so you just came out with it and made fun of him hey you was only jooking! no need for the uncomfortable silence and for people to walk away. Would've been much better for everyone to have a guffaw and put it behind, would even have made the stutterer more comfortable with the company in question. Like saying 'okay you chaps so i stutter, have a laugh and lets move on kids'. It builds relationships to have a quiet laugh about our differences now and then. hell if you were ever a schoolboy, you'd know this.

We know these things when we are kids, we are born with the knowledge. Adulthood just takes it all away. It instils this artificial smokescreen of properness that distorts everything honest and good and encourages all sorts of intricacies built up of 'white' lies and underground guerilla communication that is a downright pain in the rectum spectrum to behold.

Kids are honest, they are direct they are blunt. there is nothing wrong with that. Oh yeah you'll look at them with a sweet smile while your eyes bore into them and you grit your teeth and think 'geez wasn't this tiny pandithaya (know-it-all) ever properly slapped by his parents?' and imagine ways of teaching the bugger a lesson while all the while knowing that the only reason you got so worked up in the first place was cus the kid was right. Thats right, the five year old just told you how it was.

As we grow up, we learn a lot. Ooh now thats impressive isnt it? but we become dumbasses and complicate the single thing that we should never have forgotten, our first lesson in life, smoke free bluntness and openness. And you know whats worse? whats worse is we come to regard the very practice of it as crass and avoid it like the plague, or the swine flu.

First, a bit about 'blogstitution'

You know how your brain gets this itching feeling as if it wants to spurt out something intellectual but can't actually put a single certain neuron onto it? So there are varous little ideas and thoughts running like random preschoolers during lunch break around the insides of your mind, and you're like a kidnnapper waiting with the chloroform and the getaway vehicle trying to decide which kid looks rich enough to make you an easy coupla million. Or in this case get you some interested readers.

Fuck it, we are all blogstitutes, its your fault for coming and reading this blog anyways. You have corrupted my pure soul. Having your blog exposed to readers automatically makes you a blogstitute. People just go holier-than-thou on the more crass attempts at it. Society is fucked up, but as long as its subtle then everything is cool.

Aren't we all just prostittutes for attention? I mean take blogging aside, all we do is sell ourselves man. By working, i am essentially selling my capabilities for money but ok, lets give this term a bit of street cred and take it in terms of what is usually defined as prostitution that is, selling your body for sex.

So we're essentially talking blogging without morals, without scruples with the intention of purely generating hits, like putting up a title that reads 'Anarkali and Duminda sex tape' with a link to a video of soft core porn or something. Nothing sells like sex by the way. Im sure viceunversa would agree with me on that one. I was looking through my search engine hits today and almost 90% of the searches came thru sex related keywords. Some surprising ones in there too hyok hyok.

But i DYgress, getting back to the point of blogstitution. What IS blogstitution? i believe Mr. RD coined the term, but what does it MEAN?

Put away those tranquilizers

What? is that a little too garish? i think so. Just hope it doesnt take away any sleep for your sake. Anyways iv been thinking how mad the world has been getting lately, iv always known that March was a month that heralded madness. The Cheshire cat led me a to a tea party when i was dating this chick Alice and that mad goat chap sorta told me about it, right before he stole my girlfriend and i woke up. Hell i was only five and i didnt even know what a girlfriend was, but in all truthfullness i did. i was one of those star struck kids, i remember asking a girl to marry me when i was four, of course she died a few years ago. i see no connection between these two totally unrelated incidents.

So yeah March, insane month isnt it? Nibras Bawa and Passionately Patient both entered the blogosphere in March, and together with a lot of input from the usually dormant and 'proper' individuals in the sphere, created mayhem and carnage and had to be forcibly taken down and put out for their own good and the collective good of the world as decided by the powers that be, and alomost every one else.

The war raged on and progressed further than ever before, killing a lot of people and blind fighting on both sides accompanied by protests from all corners brings us to the end of April slightly out of breath and finally easing up on the bombarding. That five kilometre piece of land probably looks like a tsunami hit it just about when it was getting over a 10.5 richter earthquake or something.

"if you keep your head while everyone else is losing theirs..." or something like that. Something to the affect that you shouldnt 'lose your head in troubled times' sort of like when you're a number 4 batsman watching the middle order crumble and seeing Murali walking in with about 70 or so more runs to get in as many balls. Actually by that time you'd probably have completely given up, unless of course you were Murali himself, whose belief that his closing eyes and blindly swinging 'improvised' cricketing shot actually will get him more than a couple of fluke sixes never ceases to amaze people on the occasions where it actually works.

Its nice to see the calibre of politicians havent changed. We seem to revel in the steriotypical fat , greasy mass appealing buggers with eloquent vocabulary with nothing substantial to show for it over and over again. Fucking cunts.

Theres swine flu going on people so watch out, as Dili, who tweeted someone else's tweet said, it cant be as bad as bird flu because 'pigs cant fly'. Lol right man, at the rate things are going prety soon pigs will fly. Nothing is known of this 'semi pandemic' except it seems to target 'young adults' more than anyone else. A vaccine is due in only about six months according to the docs at WHO so stay away from Mehico hombre.. of you know what is good for you.

We seem to think SL is safe from global shocks, which explains the downright ignorance people show for global news, Most of the arrack parties and blog discussions focus on local aspects. Is that only cos there is so much more going on here and people dont really have the time to look outside or is it cos the universe is always a flexible thing and will always contract to contain only the particular area of space that you want it to. Which will explain the amount of people walking around with dazed expressions looking at the stars circling their heads a foot away.

Ok im out. Nice insanity people. Lets see what May brings.

*ok that header's off. a little too much insanity there..

Putting the 'Dirty' In Politics

Casting the vote in Trincomalee courtesy getty images

David Cameron promises to

• Shame overpaid civil servants, with a "people's right to know" scheme
• publish all items of public spending over £25,000 on a website
• publish all public sector salaries over £150,000

If he were to get elected. Just got me thinking what narrow bases most Western democracies have the luxury of basing their political decisions on. Everything seems so organized. At least in comparison with us, where its just who has the more clout and who is bloodthristy enough and unscrupulous enough to get to the top that wins. Corruption is a common denominator so the people disregard it completely when comparing candidates.

Whatever may be said about Western conspiracies and underhanded government and well-organized 'crime' dsguised in socially presentable front operations (like banking policy, begger thy neighbor trade policies, international interventionism etc.) their daily operational politics are decidedly less bloody than ours.

A lot of people getting seats in the provincial councils this time around are known criminals. Rape, murder, drugs, coercion, robbery it's all in a days work for them. As a matter of fact, it is almost hard for you to get anywhere close to politically successful in Colombo if you do not have substantial amounts of gangsta clout. Same goes for any other parts of the country.

So why do we sit and take this shit? Every single time over and over again, we see the same types of openly corrupt people enter into what should be one of the most sacred institutions of our nation, the government. Safe to say we are a nation governed by crooks then and yes you can stop laughing now, i am aware of the absurdity of calling something as sacriligious as the SL government 'sacred'.

People's attitudes play a big role. There is a general consensus that corruption 'cannot be stopped' and therefore the people don't mind leaders who are corrupt as long as they contribute 'at least as much as they steal' to the economy's development. I find this lax attitude to dishonesty rather distubing actually. By accepting corruption as 'normal' we are deeming it acceptable.

This should tell us a thing or two about the people's morals. Maybe we are more or less a whole nation of crooks then, always looking for a sly way to make a buck. Maybe we can't really blame fate for the type of leaders we get.

Guminda

Arr Guminda woke up amongst his favourite cuddly pillows. There was Smokey and Pokey and Cherry. He sighed and burrowed himself deeper in-between the covers. This was life.

The provincial council votes would be coming in by now, Chief Minister here i come!

He stretched himself luxuriously

'SOMEY!? where was that butt less moron of a butler?

'Somey!!' dammit, this is what happens when you hire people from your mother's village, damn political obligations, Guminda thought. The twerp doesn't even speak proper English! Doesn't even know what the word 'butler' means even! he felt weighted down by the unfairness of it all.

He looked around his penthouse flat; the place seemed lonely these days. He found his thoughts being dragged to earlier times, happier times.

He missed her, when the nights were lonely. He missed her high pitched voice which always reminded him of his favourite movie, Bride of Chucky. He missed her baby eyes, which could always convince him that she was younger than she appeared, much younger, the way he liked it. But most of all he missed her boobs, those soft cuddly boxing fit boobs, those perky ripe apples of Shakespearean praiseworthiness except that he didn’t know any Shakespeare, he didn't read much really. It wasn’t really required in his particular line of work.

He found himself imagining her lying on the bed right next to him; he found himself imagining what he'd do to her. Oh how he'd crush those boobs between his massive hands. He loved the way they would come out in red welts after they had sex from where his numerous rings would cut into her flesh. He loved the way she squealed when he'd enter her and pound her missionary style letting her breasts bounce around like two demolition balls crashing around against each other in utter chaos. Sometimes, when they were really going at it and his hips were moving back and forth at a quarter of the speed of light, they would move so fast that all he'd see was a blur of motion.

He sighed. It was the boobs really, he'd thought he'd loved the girl, but he'd only really ever loved the boobs. At least, the only emotional attachment he could connect to her centred heavily on her chest area.

He sighed again and tut tutted. Fuck that, chicks with good boobs are a dime a dozen. Of course, now that he was Chief Minister, he could have all the pussy he wanted. He tried to cheer himself up, tried to shrug his shoulders and force that famous Guminda grin that made old ladies swoon in motherly euphoria and kids cry in anticipation of being eaten alive. But he still felt bugged.

Was it possible to fall in love with a pair of boobs? He wondered. He made a mental note to ask Somey about it.

Right, now for the affairs of the state. He thought about his campaign. He was rather proud of it actually. He kind of enjoyed campaigning, he was a born poser and no matter what they say about actual practicing politics, there was nothing like an exciting campaign to really make a guy feel like he's doing something important you know? He'd felt on top of the world these past few weeks. He'd just loved the attention.

Was there anyone who could even come close to his magnafacious brilliance! Ow! He was the only real man in the whole electorate. What was a leader if he didn’t have a body the people could be proud of? What was a leader if he looked as if he could not even defend himself in a fistfight? Arr G was all male, he was the man for the job. He was the silver stammering nimrod, he was batahira sulange yotha balakaaya, he was the bee’s knees and the cat’s meow he was in short the greatest political icon to ever enter the political arena in the world! Yes that’s right! Soon the world would see that a Sri Lankan president could be just as iconic as an American one, he would even show Obama a thing or two about style, he would...

Oops. He’d just thought 'president' hadn't he? Must watch himself. The incumbent doesn't like ambition. And that goddamn brother of his looks like he practices black magic anyway, what if he read his mind or something? No, it was too early. He must keep his ambitions to himself for now. He must wait.

He sniggered maniacally. There was a side to Guminda that the press did not quite see. And he meant to keep it that way.

Arr G sighed, again. Oh well, a city awaited his benevolence. There was no doubt in his mind that he'd sweep the polls clean. He knew he was the dopest most illest gangsta pollsta to ever hit this sunny island and that limping simple wackass ex cricket bat cleaner didnt stand a chance against his awesomeness. He'd even had a song written about himself hadn’t he? He’d been so innovative and just simply marketed himself beyond the competition. The competition wasn't even in his league. In fact there was no competition. There was only him.

He hadn't even bothered to switch on the television. To him, victory was a foregone conclusion.

Ah! now for some tea.

Somey?

Grrr.. thats it, that cross eyed bugger was going back to his village

SOMEY? hukannathuwa mata thei ekak geneng!! (quit fuckin'around and bring me some tea) he yelled.

Sometimes you just gotta make mofockers understand you dig?

Disillusionment tactic

She was standing on the sand. Her dress giving itself up to the whims of the wind. Her hair like wisps of night in the evening air flowing in waves around her face, revealing in turns to me her eyes, her nose, her gently curved mouth.

She was smiling slighly. She knows what im upto. What im trying to do. I try to hold her hand but she slips it away deftly, i cant resist reaching over to push her hair away from her neck. she winces.

She tells me she's changed her mind.

Ouch.

I take a step back, mentally. I should have thought this out better. Here i am, with her again knowing fuck all what i want to do. What I expect of her and what she thinks i expect of her. It is aways hard to approach the ones whom you are slightly in awe of. It is like approaching something frightening, like your principal's desk. You are unsure, you are hesitant, yet you push through with all the courage you can muster and a nonchalant expression on your face only to get suspended for ten days, or to be ordered to bring your father to school the next day.

I push on nevertheless, because i'm a think skulled man who doesn't know how to take no for an answer. And i reach over and place my hand on her neck. I expect her to stiffen but she doesn't. Or perhaps she did but i was deluding myself into thinking she didn't. Or perhaps i was so filled with self doubt that i could not imagine her not to stiffen at my touch.

I stoke her neck, her shoulder, her hair. I ask her why, i try to explain things, show her that this will work. That this can work, but she's not buying it.

In a minute or two she says she has to head back.

And that was the end of that.

Theres a voice inside that tells me to fight back. To go on. Deep inside the knowldedge lurks that when a woman says no, she usually means yes in a very convoluted and inexplicable way. She is beckoning me into her own mingled maze. But that is a maze you will get lost in if you attempt to walk it. That is a maze that hides the Minotaur of madness, waiting to grasp you and send you to your doom if you take but a single wrong turn. Is it a test of your manhood? or of your sanity and pride?

Mordor

Frodo got it wrong.
Now the Ring of Truth is on it's way to Mordor.
The Nazgul sit and laugh.
While the dwarves die for a lost cause

The demons are encircling the fortress
to welcome him into their lands
to make him king
of the reign of lies he'll bring

Like a surface of a lake
the truth will seem unchanged
but the illusion will permeate.
A monster in its depths.

It will darken the waters
with the blood of its victims
all will be corrupt, save
for the surface that glistens

The truth that remains

will be a sliver of it's former self

the rest of the iceberg
will be bathed in a sea of blood

Please, Do not vote this 25th.

Do not vote this 25th.

If you absolutely have to, vote for an opposition party.

Why?

Well it’s because of a few simple reasons. The government is powerful enough as it is, some may say even too powerful. They have already swept away any credible opposition and clamped down on freedom of expression. This administration has not been overally better in terms of morality or fairness than any other administration that we have had in this country since the times of JR.

The government "is itching to declare success ahead of an important regional election on April 25th" - The Economist, and we know it is true. Concrete victory in the war before the elections would doubtless ensure them a landslide victory. And this is where we have to remember what happened the last time a government in Sri Lanka won an election like that;

JRs administration had so much power that they simply swept aside any opposition and the much derided 'Executive Presidency' was initiated. This measure has had a lot of opposition over time but could not be brought down because of the fact that it was written in the constitution by a government that the public voted in with an overwhelming majority. And every single president who came into power after him has always gained office through promises to abolish this scourge on the political system but have always avoided doing so, why? Simply because it favours those in power. It allows them to virtually do whatever they wish. Imagine a man unaccountable to the law itself? And is deemed so by nothing less that the law itself? if a person with no political awareness whatsoever heard about this he would say this man would turn out to be the biggest criminal in the whole nation. And reality has shown us that it is far from untrue. Crime becomes effectively written into law, for crimes conducted by one who cannot be held accountable for them are essentially allowed. This was nothing less than a desecration of justice.

JR also abolished the prevalent system of voting. that of smaller 'seat' based voting where citizens voted in candidates who they genuinely felt would serve them in some way and did not vote in candidates who they felt did not do anything worthwhile during their time period in office. Candidates catering to a smaller demographic were thus forced to include some measure of integrity into their activities and were to an extent answerable to the public of their individual seats if they were not.

This system was expanded and people were made to vote for candidates on a district level and on a provincial level. Creating disconnect between the candidates and contestants and leaving their voting decision susceptible to campaigning and promotions rather than their actual personal knowledge of the person being elected. This also pushed out smaller, less financially able candidates due to the vast resources required for a district wide campaign effectively ensuring that only the existing members of parliament through their amassed wealth, and rich individuals with political connections could enter into the fray with a hope of winning. It created barriers for smaller more idealistically motivated candidates to enter the political arena. So not only did they make it impossible for people to vote in individuals who they thought could do some genuine work, as in people they knew more closely, they also effectively made it impossible for such people to contest in the first place, ensuring a cycle of similar minded individuals continuously maintaining control of the political power of the country.

The impacts of JRs administration were vast and many, and not long after he came into power, the country was plunged into chaos and a quarter century of devastating violence befell us.

Now, i understand that people will be grateful to Mahida's government if he wins the war, regardless of the humanitarian atrocities that it enacted during its course. But the same gratefulness and overwhelming support that was extended to JR, if it is extended to Mahinda as well, would end up being abused and used for more consolidation of undemocratic power, more restrictions of the freedoms that we still enjoy.

If you are a blind eyed freak who thinks that the current government is the best thing since heaven, i would not be able to reason with you, because you are disillusioned, and hypnotized. But if you are a rational individual capable of looking at events objectively please, i beg of you think of the balance of power. Don’t let your emotions get the better of you. Make sure that even if you want the government to have a majority, do not let them have too much of a majority because power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts more than anything else.

IF you want them to take power let them, current public sentiment may well achieve that. But take no part of it yourself, or you will be blamed for God knows what comes our way afterwards. Voting is power, you are effectively handing it over, thinking of your own preference is not enough, and you need to understand the macro picture. So if you want to vote, vote, but vote for the opposition at least. And ensure that those who are in power do not get too drunk with it.

War Tourism

'(Viet)namtank' : Ron Gluckman

The End wrote about war porn here. There has been enough growth in demand for war related merchandise that hawkers are selling VCDs of war footage on buses. Complete with background music and i'm guessing, a strong 'patriotic' flavor.

And now the war 'is almost over', hell its been 'almost over' for several months now but in the classic Sri Lankan way the war also is dilly dallying away and taking its own cool time to end.

If people are eager enough to gobble up war merchandise or war porn, i think a decent case can be made for the emergence of a new niche in the tourism industry. Why not war tourism?

The idea first came to me after reading one of Cerno's many google earth posts depicting sunken warships off the coast of Jaffna, and i thought hey, someone could really make a buck organizing diving trips down there when the war ends..

But It's not exactly an original concept. War tourism has also got a Wiki entry. The definition seems to vary from referring to tourists stuck in warzones to the more commonly accepted one of actual touring to conflict zones. Whereas there has been no proof that the practice is officially happening in live conflict zones and no tourists have been interviewed who have visited a conflict zone for the purpose of tourism, we are not talking about a conflict zone here, we are talking about a conflict free zone, a-post conflict zone if you will.

I don't think there is a location like Sri Lanka so well placed to take advantage of this in the whole world. Not at least since Vietnam, although admittedly theirs was a high profile war with plenty of eager Americans willing to pay good money to come see how their tax money was spent, and World War 2, which continues to be the number one attraction for war tourists worldwide.

Assuming the war finishes, we'll be fresh out of conflict. If somewhat of a whitewash victory is attained, the security up there will be a bit more conducive to tourist presence. This will give us an opportunity to target a whole new demographic, the young adventure seeking high spender, instead of the usual retirees that we see coming over.

Jungle treks to LTTE bunkers, tours through battlefields, LTTE occupied villages, sea tiger bases, airstrips, off roading and crash courses in guerilla warfare are only some of the things we could offer. But it has to materialize through concerted efforts through both the private sector and government. Economic support must be given to the niche if it is to prosper. You or me can't just take off to Jaffna on a bike and expect to have the experience of a war tourist, the whole thing will need to be designed and offered as packaged holidays with substantial investment by the players in the local market.

And they must act. The government must be looking at avenues of economic exploitation of the North Eastern provinces if it is seriously expecting to win the war soon, and in a Ballardian world, why not try and be a little innovative and dynamic for a change? adopt a slightly more edgy image; that of the paradise with a touch of the dangerous? Adopt a stance of mercantilism in our business strategies, make the end of the war become a launching pad for an industrial revolution so to speak.

I know it may seem rather morbid to talk about this when there are so many people dying. But most of this war was about profits anyway, and the same people who filled their pockets are sitting around in powerful places harping about patriotism. why not let the people who truly suffered benefit from the war now? And give a boost to the freshly liberated North-Eastern economy?

You know you're broke when..

you decide against a second chicken samoosa cos your delirious pangs of hunger have died down to a mere inferno after eating one, and survival till you eat your home cooked lunch is just an agonizing hour away.

you decide to walk to the junction instead of taking a tuk tuk cos you want to take the 'scenic route'

you 'window shop' at the used booksellers' on the pavement

you avoid eating an isso vadey in order to 'cut down on the the oil intake'

you walk around unity plaza looking for the best prices for blank dvd's, and your colleagues have to call you and remind you to get back to work.

you decide to splurge on the way back and spend lavishly on a five rupee bus ticket, and feel rich 'cos you don't feel guilty afterwards.

you think the 25th of April is the happiest day of your life.

Coming Home to Eelam

The last bund of the LTTE in Pudumantalan has been broken down and the army claims to have rescued 5000 civilians. I live near the Rathmalana airport and sometimes have a chat with the Air Force guys guarding the top of our road. According to them, there are still a lot of troops dying, and they're not dying through enemy fire, only through mines, and they bring them via Rathmalana obviously, including the civilians who are injured.

I saw this video of this kid, would've been 16 years old, right leg ripped off above the knee, left leg by the hip, genitals gone in a flash of shrapnel, screaming his head off while his father sits by him in a shocked trance and his mother screams. There is a nurse trying to cover up his wounds but he's struggling and screaming too hard, shreds of flesh flailing from his torn limbs.

Is this what they are fighting for? The cowards, forsaking the lives of 'their own people' for a cause which they claim to be fighting for them, why would a force such as the LTTE, who claim to have the best interests of the Tamil people at heart, do this? And why would the Diaspora whose support they've relied on for so long, still support their activities knowing the carnage this is inflicting on their own people?

It's become a dirty fight, and it seems that it is almost at the end. Even the UN now claims that it is the rebels who are not letting the civilians be rescued, and coming from the normally despised or lauded (depending on which side you were on) 'peacenik' side's big cheese, it is a significant thing. Not that UN really has the truck or the credibility anymore to comment on 'humanitarian' crises, considering the tremendous hits it has taken to its credibility over the years, but its probably the closest thing we have to an unbiased coalition of an international organization.

The Tamil Diaspora is desperate. They don't know what to do or where to turn. They've supported the LTTE for so long that their psyche is unable to change their stance into one of acceptance of a possibility of a united Sri Lanka. It would be like turning traitor.

The Sri Lankan people should stop seeing the Tamil Diaspora as the enemy, or the germ of the LTTE would spread in their eyes to encompass every single Tamil living abroad. These people were oppressed, hate was bred within them, and the government and the rest of Sri Lanka were not completely innocent of crimes. Somewhere within the madness and delusion and terror and chaos there really was an original Tamil cause and everyone has to accept that.

EELAM is right here, but it’s called Sri Lanka, and people of different races live here together. ‘Come home’ is what the government and all of us need to say to them. Win them back, prove to them we’ve changed, prove beyond doubt that this country is a place where everyone can live in harmony in reality, not just in a speech of a politician or in the frames of a propagandist TV commercial.

Admittedly this may be easier said than done, but is needed to avoid an exacerbation of a fresh wave of violence/Eelamist extremism from abroad. Changes and compromises may need to be made. But isn't lasting peace worth all that? Society is too rigid.

Update: President says more than 35k civillians rescued and the 'complete defeat' of the LTTE imminent.

one day i WILL join the ranks of the free

and i aint talking about retirement

(o_O Then?)

(I mean, what are you talking about if not retirement? o_o)

FREEDOM!!!

i believe in a freedom that i cannot yet visualize
it is a dream, an illusion sometimes, but i hold on to it
for that is what keeps me going throughout the nights
and the days of opressed corporate life

Plastic Guns

dust
dust as i play cricket day and night
ride my bike through by roads and more by roads
dark skin
darkened to a beach black by constantly being in the sun
friends
taunt you and you fight, alliances are formed
nothing unites except mutual hate
but that was play-hate
we'd all unite over a quick game. plastic guns.
shooting each other to glory
except i didn't own one
nope, no plastic guns for me
no guns no violence, my parents were adamant
no swaying them there.
I wonder if i am a different person because of it?
i wonder if all the kids who were allowed plastic guns are scarred in some way that i don't know of?
but it didn't last, so there is no point in wondering is there?
cos at my first b'day bash after 3 or four years, i was seven
i got some plastic guns, and my parents didn't have the heart to take them away.

So im not scarred am i? or am i just as scarred as you, and we don't see each other's scars.
cos they're probably normal to all of us.

Rock Saturday, my first experience with a joint
i didn't smoke one then though
my first would come later, with a girl, innocently stoned, nineteen years old.

I burned, the first cut was the deepest and yet
i learned

From plastic guns to my first joint
the road was a bumpy ride
walking in the sun cursing for a ride
crowded trains growing pains
the usual life
of a windblown kid, teenager, adolescent, adult
and im still growing.

here you go mixedblessings89, thanks for the tag i enjoyed writing it! and open tag, just start with something that reminds you of your childhood and take it from there..

a rainy days' forest path

we are just prisoners
here of our own device
the song sings as my lone valley
prepares for the wrath of the beast

you can run but you can't hide
as Napoleon asked
what is this mysterious fluid that gets in the way,
that makes the world seem a farce?

the dream stings reality
with a nightmare 'come real
and you swoon in possibility
when signs materialize, however trivial

you are caught in a mudslide
as the slippery surface takes you down
all you can see is the mud-spray around
making colors disappear

the world is bathed in black and white
and grey and brown and shades of light

choice,
choice to feel
choice,
of what you percieve to be real
choice...

is it that simple?

So how was your weekend?

I discovered this 80's metal MP3 at the most unlikeliest of places; in a 13 year old kids' PS2 and movie collection. There i am going through 'white chicks', 'wrong turn', 'grand turismo', 'tekken' etc etc trying to find something worthwhile to watch and find 'Best of 80's Rock Albums', and im like woah, whos is this? its apparently the kids'dads. i can take it he won't mind.

Jason X then beats me at wrestling. I'm Batista and he's John Cena. I dont stand a chance, once he has me on the ground i cant get up till he stops hitting me. And he doesnt stop hitting me. I beat him at NFS undercover. that ought to show him who to mess with.

I was at Kurunegala on Friday and Saturday, my friend's dad owns a coconut plantation there. We're walking along, me and my friend, in the evening checking out the paddy plantation and going to a place he tells me is awesome to look at, when a really drunk chap assails us. He is in the middle of cursing loudly in very colorful language at no one in particular (standard village drunkard behavior) when he notices us.

Did i mention he was drunk? He reeks as he tells us about coconut thieves and 'dishonest folk' and how my friends dad's very employees are stealing money from under his nose etc and launches an elaborate campaign to try and grab a job, obviously under the misconception that we could get him a job. he alternatively calls me 'mahatthaya' (sir), 'machang' (buddy), 'putha' (son), he takes us to his little clay hut and makes his wife bring us tea, he shows us pictures of his sons who are at the army and the police, he claims to have immediate access to grenades and other heavy weaponry and tries to convince us to disguise ourselves and come with him to hide and catch the thieves when they come out.

He's a royal pain in the ass. He is insistent on taking my number so that he can 'call me when the thieves get there' and i manage to avoid giving it to him at his house. We then try to get away and he follows us home. We try to part ways and he extends his hand for me to write my number on it, i say i dont have a pen and he throws a fit, says he will come right to our doorstep and all that. We are rescued by the estate manager, who by then has got to wondering where we were and come to have a look. Mr. Paranoid-delusional-drunk is meek as a mouse.

On Monday i took of to Negombo. Mainly cos there were a few relatives over and some family obligations awaited me on the next day as well. Not that I specifically avoid family gigs, just that this didnt especially require my presence and i wanted to squeeze in as much as i could in terms of chill time this long weekend.

Went with two friends and we ask the tuk tuk driver 'does he know a cheap place'? he takes us to the sleaziest joint in Negombo the 'Rooms Victoria Lodge' or something like that and we get one room with a double bed and a juddering AC. We go out to 'hit the town' and the town is pretty much dead. We have an excellent meal at the 'King Coconut' where they make some really great pizza and then go back to the room after walking around a bit cos they are not serving beer or anything and my friends wanted a sip.

Next morning, we contemplate going to one of the hotels for a day package since the town itself seems to be asleep today, and decide to hit Browns Beach after breakfast. So me and MP mosey on down Beach Road to 'dolce vida' which MP (who frequents Negombo on bored weekends) tells me is an excellent place to chill. But they are closed along with all the other places where anyone can expect a decent morning meal and we are ultimately rescued from a delirium of hunger by the hospitality of Mr Alfred Cruz who runs a second hand bookshop a few hundred meters past Browns Beach. He has qite an interesting collection. I buy 'The Hobbit' and 'The Last Continent (Pratchett)' and MP gets 'Digital Fortress'.

Browns Beach as MP puts it 'looks like an old people's home for German tourists' but it is not exactly totally devoid of eye-candy either. So we mostly relax by the pool and read and jump in for a swim and check out the few ladies who pass us by (some even smile back). We enjoy the buffet although the food is not all that great. Im home in the early evening after a couple of nice cool AC bus rides reading a book and hit the sack later only to be tortured by mosquitoes all night long.

Today feels like a Monday, except that Saturday is only two days away. Need to find something to do this weekend. How was yours? And obata haa obey pawle samata kiriyen paniyen uthurana sarusaravath subooma suba nawa wasarak weva! e-mail me the meal vouchers, it'll be easier for you :D

A higher purpose

The world is poetry it sings all around us, the nations sing to each other often in tones of utter hatred and people adopt these tones to sing these songs even louder at their homes, to their kids, talking of Irish pride and English dominance. Talking of American industry and and Indian commitment. Talking of Australian freedom and African triumph over hardship, but we, what do we talk about?

What do we tell our kids when the guns have come out and the war is on and people around us are falling and dying? What would i tell my kids if i were a father withering in fear waiting for who knows what on the northern frontier? Would i breed fear and thereby hope they stay away from all the dangerous places where i believe danger could happen? Would i breed anger and animosity in the hope that one day they will work towards taking down that nameless enemy that fate thrust upon them, they never asked for him.

They never claimed to have demanded a birthright of poverty in a war zone that would probably be the worst birthright claimed by anyone to this date unless you are born on the day of apocalypse and will take a short stock of the world and then go away forever. But then the sadness in life is in having to live it and if you were born on the day of apocalypse you would not have sadness for you would not live it.

We protect and serve the burden of life with sacrifice. We go through shit to survive but why? We may live maximum of hundred years or hundred and six like that lady in Obama’s speech of presidential acceptance. but yet what is the difference between Obama and that lady of a hundred and six years when they both will be mere corpses in the ground in few decades and few more years perhaps if they are lucky, well she may not be so lucky and Obama may yet survive a few years if he is not as idealistic as many claim him to be and if he sucks up a lot to corporate greed but i digress.

What difference does Obama bear to that baby born of wedlock discarded on the streets of Kilinochchi in the days of the roaring battles and left to struggle and fend for itself in some garbage bin in the eastern slums where Muslims Tamils and a few Sinhalese hang around at night for a little bit of kasiya and a joint if they are lucky? What difference does life bear to death in its perception they are both the same they are both meaningless and they are both insane.

We live a hundred years and then we die and it is like everything we did does not exist but even if it does what is the point of living itself don’t we wonder why do we live simply to do the things we just did? is there not a higher purpose of existence a reason behind all this i have tried to uncover it and God is why. Is there not a higher purpose you tell me why is it we are here is it why we drink day and night water for sustenance and food for the same? Is it why we breathe the air we breathe are we but a mechanical bit piece a cog in the wheel of the universe?

This ain’t absurd if you look at what science has learned on the nature of nature and the natural world. it adapts and discards as it sees fit and evolution may be a magic but it kills the ones that don’t serve it any purpose and do not help to maintain the balance of nature. man is often accused of destroying it but i say NO it is all just cause and effect and where there is cause and effect there is always a reason for which you are attached a reason beyond mere daily activities such as eating drinking working or jumping in the sack. we may live confused and think that this is what life is all about coming here and reading poetry at open mic. going there and working asses off going there studying behinds sore but NO i say there is greater purpose to life. If not greater a purpose more abstract and in touch with nature a purpose we have drifted away from as far as mere knowledge is concerned.

So we are cog in nature and we are a purpose unto ourselves that we are not aware of. It may be God it may be philosophy but can it be both is that a question to be even asking in a mixed society? So we come to war when we ask that question and we breathe clearly our purpose in this world and what we are meant to be. And it’s hard when purposes that counteract exist simultaneously and therefore battles erupt and that baby in Kilinochchi may join one day forces of some armed military. Depending on which of the joint seekers pick him up will it be the Muslim the Tamils or the Majority? and there we are lobbed down to a purpose of life never knowing which purpose is right cos if each purpose drives a person to fight the very last fight then such a purpose should have at least a trace of nobility right?

Yes it should and yes it would but do we always fight for the purpose of life? How often do we fight for money wealth land even culture and the other traps of mundane existence? So if i was a father living that life, in a war zone slum dwelling fearing for my family’s life, I’d tell my son; son, only fight for a purpose you know is right. We are Sri Lankans and that’s alright, they may be Indians and they may be Americans but this earth has no distinction except humanity and the universe has no distinction but life.

Should Nibras Bawa be burnt at the stake?

I’m sitting here and cannot start off my day without releasing some verbal nonsensicalities. And im thinking what to write. There are several things circulating in the background like birds flying round and round a forest clearing but i can’t seem to pick off just one of them to kill and eat. (Oh im sorry, were you expecting me to let it sit on my shoulder and sing?).

Judging by the general trends of posts on the blogosphere, there is a lot of animosity towards a certain Mr. Nibras Bawa. Who from day one, built his brand like a Hindi movie builds up the brand of Amir Khan, or Rajni Kanth or whoever its main male lead is. Showing off his power, wealth, education etc etc etc. But so what? different strokes get different people's rocks off. And if he wasnt lying then good for him. If he was then what did i care? there were probably hundreds of liars in the blogosphere.

Then he went and pulled a fast one. A fast Juan. Slap bang revealing a few details about Mr. RD in his blog. But I have my doubts as to how he got the data. Im thinking he first got his name through flickr/facebook etc. Then just Googled it to find his company and website. You can do it yourself if you wanted to. Getting someone's IP and server is just a matter of being a little crafty with your Google analytics account, its even easier of you've got word press. Not exactly MI6 spy shit if you ask me.

All his information on Deecee was probably taken from careful study of her blog posts. Anyone who reads her blog would have told you the same. And according to DQ, he got it wrong about who wrote that comment as well.

But what of this whole scandal? Should Mr. Bawa be burned at the ceremonial stake? But why should he? I think he mirrored some of the hypocrisy and fear in the blogosphere in general. And i cant help looking at the guy with some form of scientific awe because he seems quite so open about it. Doesn't give a shit about niceties and doesn't care if his opinions are greeted by looks down the nose at his writing style.

And I also think that stunts like what he pulled are regular happenings in the real world. I hardly think it's illegal. And hardly something for Mr. RD to worry about, which im gald to see he's not. Kottu and its little sub-social groups of isolated bloggers are sheltered environments. Other blogospheres in the rest of the world are crazy ass places. And how can you expect shit like Nibras Bawa's to compare against major fraud and cyber crimes in a place and time where blogging is almost a professional thing with millions of readers and almost the same amount of blogs? Its a jungle out there and i’ve not explored it much although i’m sufficiently aware of it to realize what idyllic environs we seem to be enjoying here at kottu.

So being the cargo cult we are, you and me get our testicles magnetized to our anuses and block our intestines to release a shitstorm at the first indication of some chap entering our village with a gun. And we can't call it unfair simply cos we choose to fight with catapults can we? Ethics after all are subjective things, bent by all of us now and then (like when we use annonymous comments, insulting or otherwise) but whenever anyone steps out of the norm and tries to be too cocky there is a monsoon of negativity directed against them.

I’m liking all this though, call me an arsehole if you like. Rock on people.

Surfing Civil Society

There is the urge again. The addiction will not leave, it is back and dangerously close. And this time as the full moon swings into view and the howling starts in the distance he feels the urge again, to run amok among the wild birds, skimming the treetops, an obsession with freedom.

An obsession with gut wrenching exhilaration. He lives for it. He dreams about it. Yet he does nothing. He is careful when he drives, and he never cries, he doesn't have a wife and he is alone. He doesn't know what he is thinking most of the time and these days even his dreams are hazy. And life threatens to pass him in a despairing cloudscape blurring everything from pain to bliss.

How to stop this? he doesn't know. He believes excuses are not the way to go. There should technically be no excuses because nothing is impossible. That is his idiom, his very own idiom. He knows it has been wasted and overused since the beginning of time but to those overused words, he bears a kinship that is unique. He knows that they are true. He doesn't believe in them as one would believe in some abstract concept. He truly, honestly believes that nothing was impossible.

Of course, there are reasons why everything is not possible. There were the limitations cast upon by the laws of physics for example, which are hard to beat. But that is not to say that in some universe somewhere there exists a scenario where gravity was such that the norm was for people to be constructed in loosely attached particle like forms, flowing from place to place randomly and in any direction, including up.

Humans were too naive to actually believe that anything was impossible. Their knowledge did not expand to everything, so how could they dare to make such an audacious assumption to the affect that something in their purview could be deemed impossible! It was nothing less than absurd.

But at the same time while thinking all this, he is aware that he has sunk into somewhat of an abstract concept. But then his mind wanders into the question; what is abstractness? Is not reality another illusion? isn't reality simply called reality because it is the illusion that most people seem to have in common most of the time? Reality is the vision of the majority, the collective dope of the diasporas, the colors of a collective conscience.

But his world sometimes teeters on the edge of this perceived reality. His world is on the edge where colors are not colored the way they are expected to. People do not think the thoughts they are expected to, its a world where human achievement pales in comparison to the natural, a world where poverty, sadness, elation, wealth and despair are all constructs of society invented by the disaporic illusion and put in there as a sort of control mechanism to ensure no one steps out of line. An opposite of an insurance policy and an insurance policy at the same time. And no one really needs insurance to survive, insurance is a trap to false senses of security and therefore an ideal world will not have insurance policies; an ideal world will not have poverty, sadness, elation, wealth or despair.

He liked his little world, and found it hard when it clashed with the much bigger and harsher 'real world'. Usually he was tough enough to withstand. But he barely preserved his balance and therein was his adventure, riding the thermals of society. Preserving his balance and trying not to fall. Plunging into new challenges like a bungee jumper seeking a new truth. A new edge to taunt, a new rope to test. So there, that was his sport. He called it surfing.

Before the shit starts hitting the fan

Just imagine it man, the shit hitting the fan.. The guys who came up with that intense line sure had some insight into situations. Not life, but situations. it doesnt take much for the shit to hit the fan, things can turn around in an instant and before you know it, you are idly sitting around staring like a moron at a huge ball of shit traveling in slow motion towards the whirring blades of a big ass fan.

Sometimes you refuse to believe it, sometimes you know that you're gonna be screwed deep down inside, but still you sit and watch. And when it ultimately hits, you keep sitting there and take it calmly, you are bland about life.

You may like spicy food, but you are bland when it comes to life.

Society dictates security, It tells you to find safety, it scares you into finding a lame ass job in a lame ass company which is regarded as an 'established' place to work in. Your parents start associating you with the company you work in, as if it has become a part of your identity.

Tea splattered like little blotches of vomit. Dried up on my workstation which was so clean only yesterday. Something made me splutter like i'd never spluttered before.

I want to let go of this security, but im afraid of what my parents will say. Seeing as i am dissociating myself from an 'established' firm and all that. But Dialog is crumbling, it feels like a morgue in here. You could almost smell the fear and uncertainity a week ago, now its just a dull air of resignation.

I have my dreams and i know what needs to be done to achieve them. I know what im doing and im doing it. Im not wasting away like some poatato without a vision stuck behind a PC for 8 hours everyday, the chief difference between him and me being the vision that is, for now.

The dream keeps me alive, through the dust and grime of daily life. And somehow im gonna find a way to make it all real. Screw the corporates, i do not want to depend on you types. Modern day slave trade. Exploiting the commercially opressed. The willingly opressed. I don't want your company car and your big cardboard cubicle and your pot belly. I don't want your varicose veins and muted sense of rebellion. I don't want your conformity and your fake smiles. I don't want your blind intelligence and process driven mind. I don't want you, corporate life. But I am stuck inside you. So, for now, I'll use you to quicken my ride. Cos i need you to survive.

Chapter X: In the end, everything burns.

contd from here.

A million years later...

The antimatter was black. Not only was it colored black, but it was positively radiating it, glowing with an evil light. But he knew that it wasn't really evil. Life had taught him that 'good' and 'evil' were just words. To be written on paper, to be thought of in your mind and to be spoken out loud.

But there was no good or evil really.

There was simply existence. And his would soon come to an end.

The antimatter was dense, and concealed the starscape with images of terror and fear, projected directly onto his mind. He'd always had a thirst to explore. When his brain had developed and he had access to the thoughts of his ancestors, his realization of his fathers disapointment at never really getting to see the universe had only egged him on.

He'd had a good start. After being sucked into the planet Earth and befriending the humans, he'd watched as time whittled their weak lives into brittle bones and sagging skin. He'd seen his mentors pass like dust in the winds of the cosmos as their short lives evaporated meaninglessly, disappearing like wisps of smoke caught in the great cyclones of Time. He missed them still. But he’d become older, and wiser. And he was more determined than ever to live life to the fullest.

The universe was a strange place. An apple in one corner was a fried chicken in the other. Life originated only on planets with the carbon molecule K. And Superman was real. He'd been from the planet Isotope that was the base for the last and only truly Galactic Empire anyone could ever remember. Isotopians had been known as Gorgons and they were right bastards. They had ruled the galaxy with iron fists ‘til one day all their suns mysteriously went nova without warning and every single one of their base planets were destroyed.

The one known as Superman, as legend had it, was the sole survivor. He was ‘good’ because he was brought up by the Americans, a noble race of people on planet Earth. And he had lived a happy life until he had found himself unemployed when his newspaper went bust and demand for good looking male reporters with nothing to speak of in the mental arena suffered a blow. He then had no choice but to work in a Chinese toy factory for a living. And there he succumbed to kryptonite abuse eventually traced to the paint in some (now decommissioned) toy engines.

But now, after a million years MIA, the Gorgons were back! It had turned out that they'd had a backup empire in a parallel universe all along and a group of them had escaped the nova and had been plotting their return to galactic dominance for all these hundreds of millennia! But in their eagerness to conquer, in their eagerness to destroy everything in their paths, they had done the unthinkable; they had torn the very fabric of space and time that separated one universe from the other.

The result was the antimatter, slowly seeping through the tears in the fabric and into both universes simultaneously, filling up space, distorting time. And eventually, when the density got too much for the collective universal gravitational fields to hold up, when the crushing of the antimatter pierced the point of Absolute Pressure, it would all finish.

Baklava found himself thinking about Greenwilly who had died such a long time ago. He’d seen the blue gas escape the shattered bubble. He’d heard mammy’s screams of despair as Willy’s gas dispersed into thin air. He’d seen it himself! Willy was dead. There was no hope of getting him back! Everyone had known this! Everyone had known…

They’d managed to track down every last molecule of the gas eventually, but just like humpty dumpty, they’d never been able to put Willy back together again and it had broken poor mammy’s heart. Blue had always been up for an adventure though, and Baklava and him had had a roaring time until Blue had ended a lifetime shorter than that of most fruerahbeest with a final request that his remains be converted to a green gas and mixed in with Willy’s blue gas so that they could be together in death for all eternity.

At least he’d thought so. Or liked to think so. Anyway, they were still sittingon top of his bookshelf at home.

Then, approx Three hundred thousand years later, he’d been on a trip to Kronos on business. When on a whim, he’d thought to pay a visit to Septerkande 4-Oh-Oh to see the famed Mad, Half - Machine Morgothron. To see if the famed seer was really as mind blowing as everyone said he was. And boy was he mad. The room had gotten dark, there was only silence, and before he could figure out what was going on, everything was spinning. And the voice of Morgothron had boomed out;

The Central Sun in the Universe Beta! Take them to the Central Sun! Take those who would take you for their own, now enclosed in a gaseous form, take them for the universe’s salvation, the salvation of all! It is your only hope.

At that time he’d not known what the implosion this piece of half fleshed metal had been talking about and regretted spending his 2 tringares. But now that the Gorgons were back, and the presence of an actual Universe Beta was revealed along with impending apocalypse, his mind had obviously been magnetized by those words again.

Green’s blue gas and Blue’s green…Could he really make it happen? Could he really save this universe and the next, with its myriad of life forms? And if this Central Sun was so amazing, could it bring back his two old friends to life? It seemed absurd. That crackpot of a machine! It was impossible! Anyway, he thought, how could he get to the middle of the next damn universe before the antimatter sparked? And what and where was this Central Sun anyway? Whoever heard of a universe with a central sun! Shaking his head, he tried to dispel the crazy notion.

He stared into the sky, blacker now than it had been a mere decade ago, and steadily darkening. He wondered where the first spark would ignite. Where the first little sun would succumb to the black mist and go nova, triggering the explosion that would rip two whole universes into atoms within the space of a few nanoseconds; a force no bigger than two big bangs. He hoped it would be far away from him, because he wanted to watch the sky ignite, and see the glorious flames erupt and consume everything he’d ever known in his life, just for a moment.

He remembered a famous quote on Meepus 45.

And in the end, everything burns.

And far away, in the next universe, swirling antimatter not coming within light years of its outer surface, floated the great bright orb of the Central Sun. Forever burning. At least for now.

Click for chapters 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9.

Demons

They are among us, it is too late already; demons, different shapes, different sizes. There is talk about the Djinn, the Raksha or your plain old Exorcist starring people possessing filthy tongued mainstream celebrity variety, but these demons are different. they are in the realms of your mind, and they are truly vicious.

PROCASTINATORR - the terrible procrastinator is blamed for all things terrible. but hey i'll get to him later..in fact i think i’ll just get back onto this post when i have some free time. im feeling abit odd, i think i need some tea.

SCAPEGATORR - this is the bugger which blames everything under the sun when things go wrong. oh this post isn’t interesting? yeah man it must be the weather. Bouts of searing heat coupled with heavy rain majicks with the standard umbrella balance of your mind, wets your brain and renders you unable to appreciate intellectual stimulation. Pfft! me? boring? you must be out of your frikking MYND!

EMBARASSORR - Now this guy has a complex and diverse repertoire. he even has several lesser demons working for him to carry out his tasks. there is the WrongTimer who will make you say things like 'damn i’m just here for the free food and the booze' within hearing distance of the deceased persons close relative. there is also the WrongLiner at the hands of which you are completely devoid of any sense whatsoever, dispensing corny lines to practical people and bluntly honest ones to airy fairy corny people.

THEUNDERSTANDINGSCREWERUPPER - This dastardly piece of antimatter flux paper is blamed not only for the instances when you suddenly have flashes of realizations where you realize that your perception of the world as you know it may have all been a grand illusion, this guy collectively is to be blamed for all of the world’s problems.

Racism, Social Divides and Broken English

Am i idling? Now that is a strange question, for what is idling? is it doing nothing? but if it is doing nothing then you're technically still doing something, so you not doing nothing. So I’m not idling. That’s good, cos if i was idling i'd have to start feeling a little guilty.

The question of racism in Sri Lanka is an interesting one. There are the utopians who believe that racial prejudice is dead, i was one of them not so long ago and there are those who firmly belive that nothing has changed since the 80s.

Mahinda Rajapakse was a supporter of the nationalist uprising of the 80s, he is also a Southerner and relied heavily during the past years on the hardcore southern vote (a term from which you will deduce what you will). The voting scandal where the Tamils in the North and East were prevented from voting didn’t help his 'equality credentials' much either. But any underground agreement with the LTTE would have obviously backfired on the latter considering the current onslaught they are at the receiving end of, unless its all a cover up.

I am not calling Mahinda a racist, but i have doubts as to the integrity of the current philosophy of nationalism that is spread around, chiefly because of its slightly condescending and patronizing tone towards the minorities. And the strong Sinhalese tradition strain apparent in government war propaganda.

Question is, what are we doing really, to prevent the series of events that culminated in the war from happening again? Are we as a nation really looking at the social, legal, economical, political and other macro and micro environmental factors that contributed to the ethnic conflict that blasted into a full scale war in the mid eighties? Is there a think tank for this? a think tank that is taken seriously by the government and the people in power?

Is racism a symptom of inequality where the deprived masses turn upon the minority community closest to them in hate to channel the anger at being deprived of basic needs and opportunities (as pseudorandom said)? In which case political manipulation should be blamed for turning the people against each other. That wouldn’t be too surprising since the political class of SL has always been consistent of elitist wealth accumulators. That would also explain the total lack of effort at taking the racism issue seriously and the molly-coddling of the people's emotions.

Also, English, one word which speaks volumes. English is encouraged on the surface but nothing has ever been done to promote it in a big way, like promoting English as the language for all educational purposes etc. English knowledge will help bring the masses onto a global platform and get them out of the narrowed frame of mind they seem to be in. It will help them interact with a globalized world more easily and in short they will be more knowledgeable, savvy and aware for it. A common tongue will unite people from different backgrounds a little bit more due to the breakdown of the lingo barrier. It will also improve our competitiveness economically in a global scale. So why is this not happening?

One explanation is that we are a backward population and like to cling to traditions for as long as possible. A squirrel living in a tree for as long as it can, even after its been cut down and the wood is rotting. Another explanation is control. A knowledgeable and empowered people will mean a savvier voter base, which means that a few things will change in the political arena of the future. So maybe the power structure itself is resisting change?

Branding came up as a possible solution. But how much can branding and marketing alone do to promote change in beliefs (i.e. racial differences and prejudices) without some tangible change happening? Actions speak louder than words and branding and media promotions are mere words without action to evidence their validity.

So what do we do? I’m pretty much convinced that if we do nothing and this war does finish, another 'ethnic conflict' will not be too far away, mainly because the root causes have not been addressed and there is still seething anger amongst the people. So while doing nothing may still be doing something, it doesn’t help anyone, and ultimately all of us, who have a responsibility to ensure we do what we can, will be guilty.