A couple of months ago, I decided to do exactly that. I signed up for a half-day batik workshop. Many of my friends had warned me that batik is complicated and painstaking, but I wanted to see for myself. So, I showed up with an open mind (and a friend who tagged along for the ride).

There were about ten of us in the group, most of them younger and way more “artsy” than me. When the teacher asked why we joined, my answer was simple: for fun.

Now, was it easy? Hell no. Was it fun? Absolutely.

The process was full of steps:

• First came the drawing (my personal struggle. I can write for days, but drawing? Not my thing).
• Then we melted a mix of waxes and used a special tool to trace over the drawing, creating those signature batik “blocks.”
• Next, we flicked wax droplets for texture, before moving on to dyeing the fabric. Since we only used one or two colors, the process was shorter, but it still took hours.

By this point, I had developed a whole new respect for batik artists. No wonder their work is so expensive — every inch is hand-done, and the effort is real. Even after dyeing, we weren’t finished. The fabric had to be soaked in a fixer, boiled to remove wax, then washed, dried, and ironed before the final piece emerged.

And when it did? I was proud of my creation :)

A month later, our teacher offered DIY batik kits. Each came with everything you’d need for four pieces — fabric, dye, brushes, jugs, even the wax. All I needed was my own stove and buckets. Of course, I said yes.

Armed with Pinterest sketches and a free Saturday morning, I turned my kitchen into a mini batik studio. I started optimistically — “Maybe I could do this full-time!” — but by the end, I was silently thanking the universe for my day job. The dye was patchy, the wax was everywhere (countertops, stove, sink, floor, you name it), and cleaning up took longer than the art itself.

The results? Not terrible, but definitely amateur. Still, there was something special about them.

Here’s what I learned: batik is a brilliant teacher for impatient people like me. It forces you to slow down, watch, and wait for the process to unfold. More importantly, it reminded me that imperfections aren’t flaws. They’re what make the piece unique. The accidental wax blobs I worried about actually gave the design character.

Would I quit my job to do batik full-time? HELL NO. But I’d definitely do it again as a once-in-a-while creative escape. It’s messy, meditative, and rewarding all at once and you end up with a great story to tell.

Try something new. You might surprise yourself. After my batik adventure, I tried flower arrangement and candle-making, which were less complex, therapeutic and fun.

You’ve heard of the old adage, ‘being at the right place, at the right time’ right? But it’s also almost always tempered with how well skilled you are in leveraging those opportunities. So, yes, while luck can strike, you have to be ‘smart’ in how you navigate that lucky spark to your advantage.

Here’s a tale about a random ginger cat who nailed it. And we can learn from him.

I love cats. I grew up around cats — lots of them. Among the high-pedigree sophisticated ones, we always had a couple of snoopy, sneaky strays hanging around the house and eventually adopting us. During the COVID pandemic, a friendly cat climbed over our wall and decided to make our home his new abode — read full story (yes, I even wrote a blog about him)!

I named him Ginger (because he was a ‘ginger’ cat) and I mention at the bottom how he brought a look-a-like young friend with an infected eye. The friend was eventually named ‘Turmeric’ in keeping with the color-theme and also to maintain somewhat of a naming convention … in case more felines should follow. A couple of years later, Ginger stopped coming — he was perfectly healthy and happy, but maybe something happened to him or he found another home. So Turmeric became the chief cat. As expected, a few more followed — Cinnamon, Pepper, and the latest addition Mr. Clove.

Turmeric was a no-fuss cat. He’d sit quietly by the door, patiently waiting for his food. He’ll eat what was given to him, smack his lips and find a nice cozy corner in the garage to take a long cat-nap. He didn’t like to be scratched, cuddled or stroked. The others were (are) way more needy.

A few months ago, Turmeric didn’t show up for meals. I kept an eye out in the surrounding areas to see if he had adopted another owner, but I didn’t spot him. One day, when our roller gate shuttered up, he limped into our garage, in pain and all bloody. A part of his right-front leg and thigh was ripped open — he waddled in and fell to the floor with a gaping wound with spots of dust and sand and possibly infection setting in. His eyes were teary and he was in pain. No wonder he was unable to climb over the wall and come by for his meals. He had come to ‘the right place at the right time.’ We quickly called up a recommended vet clinic and transferred Turmeric for immediate care. It was not looking good, but we were in regular contact with the caregivers who first cleaned him up and treated the wound, then carried out surgery to stitch him up. They asked for him to be kept at the clinic for a week or so until he healed. Weeks became months. We dropped by a couple of times to see him. This unfriendly cat had become more domesticated, wanting to be scratched and petted — in other words, a bit needy now. He had become quite popular at the clinic too and everyone knew Turmeric and his ordeal!

Just over two months passed and the clinic informed us that Turmeric was ready to come back ‘home.’ And while we were making arrangements for his arrival, we received another call from the clinic an hour later with an unexpected request. The coordinator said that a nurse at the clinic would like to adopt him and if that was OK with us. I was pleasently surprised. This dirty, rugged cat, not-so-friendly either and who was fighting for its life months ago had found new love. We agreed and were happy to hand him over to his new owner. Perhaps he tried a new trick and duped someone. Cats do that well :)

But whatever it maybe, he’s a lucky fellow — being at the right place at the right time with a bit of feline shrewdness. Cats fascinate me and they continue to teach me life lessons. They are unaffected and unbothered by the turmoils around them. They don’t attach themselves to anyone or anything — just look for spots to eat and sleep. What a life!

One afternoon, while exploring a random alley, I stumbled upon a quaint clothing store that offered custom tailoring within 24 hours. Intrigued, I decided to order two dresses. The process was refreshingly straightforward: I picked styles and fabrics, and my measurements were jotted down in a simple notebook alongside my name and phone number. The lady at the store said I could make an advance payment or pay in full and collect the dresses the next day. Trusting her sincerity, I paid in full.

As I walked back, I realized the store hadn’t given me any proof of payment — no receipt, no order confirmation. A flicker of doubt crossed my mind, but it quickly faded. I remembered how deeply trust was woven into everyday interactions in Vietnam. During my time living there, I’d never felt cheated or unfairly treated. My initial skepticism came from my own conditioning, not from any real cause for concern.

The next day, I returned to the store. Before I could even ask, the lady greeted me with a smile and handed me the dresses, perfectly crafted. Moments like these reinforce the quiet power of trust. When upheld, it creates bonds that transcend transactions.

Switching gears, I want to share another story about trust — this one from Sri Lanka.

One evening, I was heading home in a PickMe taxi (our local version of Uber) when the driver struck up a conversation. From his demeanor and attire, I guessed this was a side gig to his day job, which he confirmed. He was an F&B executive at a five-star hotel, driving part-time to earn extra income. His story took a tragic turn, though, as he revealed why he needed the money.

Six months ago, his best friend at work had approached him for help. The friend needed a guarantor for a bank loan, citing a personal emergency. Trusting their friendship, he agreed. A month later, the friend disappeared, leaving the loan unpaid. Attempts to locate him revealed that he and his wife had fled the country. The driver was now paying off a debt he hadn’t incurred, all because he trusted someone he believed to be sincere.

These two stories — one uplifting, the other heartbreaking — made me reflect deeply on trust.

In life, much operates on trust: trusting systems, trusting people, trusting your instincts. Yet trust is fragile and often unpredictable. It’s easy to wonder: is there a litmus test for trust? Is a gut feeling enough? Unfortunately, there’s no foolproof answer. Circumstances shift, and people can be unpredictable.

In today’s world, where social media and superficial connections dominate, trust and authenticity have become even harder to discern. But through my own experiences — both good and bad — I’ve found one key element linked to trust: sincerity.

Sincerity and trust go hand in hand. Sincerity reveals a person’s true intentions, and where sincerity exists, trust is likely to follow. Unlike gut feelings, sincerity is observable — it’s reflected in behaviors and actions.

So, the next time you face the question “to trust or not to trust?” try the sincerity test. Look for genuine effort and consistent actions. Trust may be complex, but sincerity makes it easier to navigate.

That’s my take. What’s yours?

###

The gin and tonics went down well, and Camilla was eagerly waiting for Sam to take the next step. “Shall we go to my place, and watch a movie … or … something?!” The response was quick in her head, but came out with a forced pause, and pretence hesitation — “I guess so?!”

As they walked into the dimly lit, plush penthouse, she scanned the tidy living room and sat herself down on the cozy velvet sofa. Sam was getting more drinks and setting the ‘mood’ with Norah Jones’ best hits playing softly in the background. An antique mantelpiece caught her eye, and she stood up and walked toward it for closer inspection. More to take a closer look at some ‘odd things’ that were lined up in a row on top of the brilliant white, cold marble. Among them were a single earring with a missing stone, a torn bit of a knitted cardigan, a freaky false eye, and a pair of bright orange ballet shoes.

She touched the satin laces that draped down the marble, while Sam watched her from a distance as he set up the drinks and snacks. “Whose are these pretty shoes,” she asked. “Oh, they’re new. Used to belong to my late wife, but she never wore them because they were ‘apparently’ too beautiful to wear. How bizarre and stupid is that, eh,” said Sam.

Camilla picked up the shoes and flipped them over … and a dry, bloody toe rolled out and fell on to the soft grey rug. “Erm … NEVER WORN, you said??!”

If you ride them in Sri Lanka, there are many reasons to absolutely love them because they’re (relatively) cheaper, easy to find, and super fast — especially if you’re running late, albeit sometimes risking your life (and freshly blow-dried hair) as many of them attempt to compete with the world’s fastest roller coaster ride!

And if you’re driving alongside them, you will most definitely despise these over-grown, turtle-like wheelers, with their sudden swivels and sharp turns, as they take advantage of their petiteness to creep through the narrowest of gaps with much confidence and bravado. If you attempt to fight back, you may even hear a line or two of unsavory Sinhala phrases with references to your ‘mother’ or parts of the human anatomy that are certainly not appropriate for public debate.

If you take a deep breath and stay calm, play deaf, look beyond these nerve-wracking episodes, and turn your attention to the back of these bright coloured tuks, you might be able to enjoy a moment of uncensored, raw Sri Lankan humor. It’s the only way to turn on your positive vibe, have a good laugh, and move along.

Here are some such humorous captions (don’t mind the grammar) and responses that ran through my head, while I laughed out loud.

Caption 1 — Hell yeah! Great life lesson buddy — never assume, always ask questions and clarify. There’s an old adage, you don’t hear what people say — you assume what they mean.

Caption 2 — This is true. Boys, here’s an important lesson to not take your ‘girl’ for granted because no one’s indispensable, even in romantic relationships. Well-said, brother. High-five!

Caption 3 — OK. I guess it is, but don’t give up. Love comes with ups and downs, but that’s how life is anyway, so have faith and hope.

Caption 4 — OK first let me attempt a direct translation - ‘if i spent the same amount of time loving from the bottom of my heart, doing something else, like picking coconuts, I would have been a millionnaire by now.’ Hmm, I guess this one too is related to lost love. Poor guy. I hope he gives the ‘bokkeng lau’ (deep love) another chance that it brings a sense of fulfilment rather than a stash of millions.

Caption 5 — I think what he meant was ‘win without boasting and lose without excuses’?! Great thoughts indeed on being humble and learning from failures. And change your life style? Not sure what that meant.

Caption 6 — Translation first — ‘there will come a day when we too will be part of our dream’ — yes that’s exactly how it reads. Deep, meta verse stuff going on here, but maybe it was meant to be ‘your dreams will come true some day’?! I dunno. Couldn’t quite decipher this one.

Caption 7 — What if I have no balls?! I mean in the literal sense. Or, wait, is there some deep, metaphoric message here for all those powerful, gutsy ladies out there?! Interesting.

Caption 8 — A typo and no punctuation, but I guess the message here is mind your speed, because speed kills. Please share this with your fellow wheelers brother — I think they could benefit too from this important piece of advise :)

Caption 9 — A shout out to the love of his (or her) life — ‘If I don’t get you, I’ll remain single for the rest of my life.’ A hopeful romantic, working on his dream girl or guy.

Oh and, you will also notice (if you haven’t already), an insane obsession with Bob Marley and Che Guevara too — I don’t know why. It’s the rasta, rasty life.

Caption 10 — For real?! Or did you mean life is short, but love is sweet? Either way, this guy has a positive perspective on love and life, so respect bro.

Caption 11 — Another great attitude — there’s plenty of learning in failures as it offers an opportunity to do better.

Caption 12 — OK this was a winner, so I saved the best for last. WTF?! :) I tried to unravel this, but I gave up. If you can, drop a comment below!

Happy Sunday everyone. Chill, have a few laughs, and enjoy the funny side of life.

Extra long weekends are one of many good things in Sri Lanka. If not catching up with friends or chilling on a beach somewhere with excessive consumption of food and drink (this year is Ramadan, so no daytime eating or drinking), I love spending such weekends reorganizing and de-cluttering. In doing so, I found a stack of books from numerous training programs I’ve attended during my tenures across different organizations, ranging from leadership, communication, and news reporting-related learnings. While rummaging through the dusty pages of some of these material to see if they were worth keeping, I came across a training guide on ‘The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People’ based on the famous book by American author, businessman and educator, Stephen Covey.

Nestled between the yellowy-stained pages of the guide was a small pile of faded post-it notes with random scribbles. I took a closer look and it instantly took me back to a secondment stint in Bangalore, India (perhaps more than a decade ago) with an outsourced investment research firm. I was part of the Editorial and Research publishing Team, supporting research analysts (both internal and in client teams) in vetting time-sensitive financial market analysis reports.

The scribbles were funny and I actually laughed out loud when I started reading them. I’ve included some of my favorite ones here. In my efforts to learn Hindi during my stay there, I would ask, learn and then write down random phrases with its meaning alongside the phrase — I remember I had these stuck on my desk so I would see them everyday and remember to use them at the right moments. Looking at my quick learning list now, one would wonder if I were a verbally-abusive colleague! :)

It was ironic that these notes were in the book of great leadership lessons by Covey. There are many such books and programs that essentially teach us similar things like listening to understand, remaining sharp, being proactive, among others. But those post-its brought back memories of my own lessons in connecting with people and building relationships by finding ‘common ground.’ I would mainly use these phrases to describe something silly I’ve done and instantly there was laughter and a connection made. Over time, I taught them similar Sinhala phrases too and we would use it on each other while getting work done.

Over time, I’ve learned and continue to read and learn about leadership skills and how to become better than I was yesterday. The greatest and the most important ones (and possibly the more difficult too) are self-awareness, social awareness, and building connections.

• Deeper self-awareness helps you to develop a solid foundation of personal understanding, including being open to feedback and admitting mistakes and failures.
• Social awareness is key in building relationships with others and improving communication skills, key to learning to say the right things at that right time.
• In the end, everything is about building connections because by doing so, you will more likely have what you need when you need it.

No matter how well you perform your technical skills, if you cannot work with people, all of your efforts are in vain. The first thing about building connections and relationships is the way you treat others. Reflecting on my Bangalore days, I guess I was trying to find common ground, in a humorous way to build connections. In the end, every other person you interact with, whether its a co-worker, vendor, or client, is also another human, just like you, looking for similar things in life. So, the more self-aware, open, honest and transparent you are, the greater the bond you will create. While many training programs will tell you what you need to do, you need to find your own unique ways to really live them.

The results are great — there will always be differences and opposing views, but things got done and everyone is happy. Over time, some of the connections I made turned into lasting friendships, especially some extra-special folks who taught me these unsavory Hindi phrases. But, if you look past all the ‘bakwas’ (rubbish) on those notes, they end with ‘daaru’ meaning ‘drink’ because there was always time spent ‘cooling off’ and getting to know people, and sometimes even getting a bit ‘talli’ (buzzed) in the process over many a tale and laughter.

PS: I also learnt a song that starts with ‘Jaanu, Meri Jaan’ (my life, my heart)— I need to look that up and relearn it :)

‘Today is the first day of the rest of my life’ … said John Denver in one of his older hits from the 1960s. It’s very apt during these turbulent times where uncertainty and adventure are a norm. And no matter how ready you think you are, there’s always an element of surprise, confusion, and fear lurking in the corner, waiting to get the better of you.

As I said my official ‘goodbye’ to my team in Hanoi, Vietnam, in November last year, after a year and some months’ stint there, I shared with them my initial feelings of fear when I accepted that role. It was a new country, new culture, new role, new team and all of this in the middle of Covid. But I’ve come to realize that it’s the uncertainty that gives me that adrenaline rush and drive to jump in and figure things out, even if the territory is rough and unfamiliar. It’s a learning and it makes you a more resilient, capable, and a future-ready person. I’ve come back to another new role, in more familiar territory though, but with a fresh perspective and room to explore.

Uncertainty, challenges, and disappointments in life are good because it forces you to improvise, be creative and hopefully successful in an authentic way.

Will 2023 be as uncertain as the previous couple of years? We’ll just have to wait and see and be ready for anything.

There’s always a new beginning at the end of something. It’s up to us to carve out the path and keep rolling. Rolling in a way that’s meaningful to the part you play, and in turn fulfilling and satisfying for your soul. While I move forward, I reflect on the year gone by, reminisce the good times, learn from experiences, and set new personal goals — ones that will challenge me in new ways and keep me energized through the new year.

Amid the numerous year-end parties and merrymaking, a question (and sometimes a bold statement) that was hurled at me was “Why did you come back to Sri Lanka?!” :) Yes, the cost of living has skyrocketed from a year ago, you have to plan your day around power cuts, and find alternatives to the unavailability of certain material things that you enjoyed before, but it’s alright. It’s a personal choice and reasons are very personal too, but it’s still home amid the chaos and uncertainty. In the end, it’s what you make of it and learn to adapt. I refuse to fall into the loop of believing the grass is greener on the other side. Grass on the other side is always green, but momentarily. After that, you’ve got to have hatched a solid plan to keep sailing, no matter where you are.

How good were the good times of 2022? — Thankfully, Covid gradually dissipated and made way for exploring a new country, absorbing the goodness of a unique culture, making new friends and connections, and learning more about people in the role I played. More importantly, there was a lot of learning I did about myself. I’d like to think that the year ended for me with more self-awareness and I’m grateful for all the blessings, opportunities, and a little bit of luck that helped us to tide over to a new year.

Reflections on the greatest lessons? — The importance of being simple, grounded, authentic, and live a private life, doing what you love and loving what you do. It’s easy to get caught up in the twirls of a superficial, social media driven world that prisons you to ‘keep up’ and sometimes lose sight of reality and your authentic self. And no, it doesn’t mean I’m going to be ‘anti-social’ from hereon, rather ‘selectively’ social and focus more on meaningful tasks and experiences.

New personal goals? — I’m not big on ‘new year’ resolutions. Instead I’d like to take stock of ongoing ‘projects’ and review progress and then make adjustments as required. I also live by the statement ‘don’t tell people your dreams, just show them.’ I’ve already shared that I’m working on a new book (a novel this time) and also picked up pace in promoting my published work ‘Love and Miracles’ (available at Jam Fruit Tree Publications or inbox me directly via my author page) by participating in book readings, popups and coffee dates, all things new to me. I also want to learn new skills and I have a couple of things in mind that I need to focus my energy on, and dedicate some weekend hours towards these.

Before I dive into an adventurous 2023, it’s time to also snap out of the holiday indulgences and say goodbye (for now) to those buttery breudhers and mince pies, until we meet again next Christmas.

Have a safe, healthy and blessed year ahead — continue to look inward, rise above adversities, disappointments, challenges and be light like a feather. Once you do that, you will shine on the outside, leaving sparkles of positivity that illuminate your surroundings.

Here’s to a star-studded new year — Bring it on 2023!

As a teenager, I was fascinated with the news — yes, this is true. However, at the time, it was not so much the content of the news I was interested in, rather the presenters (specifically news anchors) who wore pretty clothes and makeup and delivered breaking stories ever so confidently and interviewed leaders and famous people from across the globe on live television. My dream was to be sitting at that anchor desk and telling the world what they needed to know about politics, current affairs, global events, and celebrity gossip. I just wanted to be famous.

I had shared this dream with a few people and, one day, someone pointed me to an advertisement by the national television network in Sri Lanka, calling for part-time ‘English news presenters.’ I was in my late teens and still studying, but I was interested in pursuing a part-time job, just for fun. I applied and got called in to do a ‘screen test.’ There wasn’t too much detail in terms of any prep, rather just a date, time, and venue where I was expected to show up and read something in front of a camera. I was nervous as hell, but I didn’t tell anyone about this. I still remember the day — it was a Saturday afternoon. I went by myself, dressed in my best, found the location, and walked inside an eerily quiet hallway that led to a large room. The mostly bare space was surrounded by lights and cameras, pointing to a solitary high stool against a white backdrop. I was handed a piece of paper and given about 10 minutes to read through and be ready for the screen test. It wasn’t a difficult read and I knew I got this!

I sat up straight on the stool and held the paper in front of me. By this time, I had practiced the narrative a few times and even studiously marked the pauses and words I needed to emphasize for an impactful delivery. Without much warning, I was suddenly blinded by the powerful lights that came on and the camera started rolling with the videographer indicating with a wave to start reading. I froze with nervousness and fear. I was sweating and my mouth ran dry. After a few minutes, I mustered the courage to speak … but what I said, instead of reading off the paper was “I’m sorry, I don’t think I can do this. Thank you.” My teenage dream ended right there. I threw it away and quit because fear overcame me. Did I regret it? Of course, I did, but I quickly put it behind me and moved on.

A couple of years later, another media-related opportunity came my way. I was not going to let this slip. However, this time, it was radio — less daunting than having to face blinding lights and cameras. I went in for a voice test, read a few lines of a news item, and almost immediately, I was given the job and added to a daily roster to report and read the news for four hours each day. Soon I was living my slightly altered dream — a radio journalist and news reader for a popular radio station. During that time, Sri Lankan government troops were still fighting a war with the LTTE rebels. Even though the conflict was mostly confined to the north and east of the country, there were sporadic suicide bomb attacks in and around the capital Colombo, targeting key government and military installations as well as public figures who were potential threats to their cause.

Typically, in a moment of ‘breaking news’ such as an attack in the city, depending on who’s available or nearest to site, two reporters were assigned to go there and there was an ‘anchor’ back at the studio to break the news on air and connect with the reporter on-ground for live updates. As time went by, I assumed the title ‘bomb news reader’ because I apparently didn’t demonstrate any emotion and would read shocking and gruesome breaking stories in a calm and composed manner. I guess it was unconscious and something that came quite naturally to me. For that job, it was a plus I guess, to be unfazed by the madness and mayhem that unfolded around me. It didn’t mean that I didn’t care, rather how I dealt with it without getting emotionally affected. Some would call it detachment or indifference but is that a good thing?!

As I moved on from the exciting and glamorous radio job to other more corporate roles, this trait didn’t seem to be a plus point for me. I was constantly told in numerous indirect ways that my nonchalant attitude was not a good thing because it’s hard to figure out what I’m thinking or feeling. And when you’re working in teams, they expect some sort of a ‘reaction’ during conversations and meetings. With the constant feedback I would receive, both directly and indirectly, I would try to be more conscious and aware and become more emotionally available and responsive as part of my learning to be effective in these roles. What surprised me the most was the results of a self-evaluation assessment, required by one of the organizations I worked for as part of an individual development plan. The assessment evaluates your personality and general behaviors, which you can then relate to your job role and identify any gaps or areas for improvement. I had always performed roles ranging from communications, marketing, to human resource development, which involved working closely with people. To my dismay, I found that my score on ‘empathy’ was dangerously low! This got me thinking and I was reflecting on some of the feedback I had received in the past about the way I work with people. I took it positively as a learning and became more conscious and deliberately practiced certain behavioural changes, so I could be more ‘empathetic’ when required. Subsequent assessments showed improvements, which was heartening. I’d like to think I’m more reactive and emotionally available now, sometimes to a point where people have even slapped labels (in jest of course), such as ‘dramatic,’ ‘animated,’ ‘drama queen,’ among other less enduring, yet funny terms. I think it has served me well over the years, helping me to connect with people better, be more approachable and understand others’ point of view — key elements in pursuing my long-term career as a PR and communications professional. This only meant one thing — you must be open to change and adapt to different requirements in varied roles.

Now in my (early) 40s, it’s funny how I’ve also immersed myself in the study and practice of mindfulness, meditation, and stoicism that all have a common thread about detachment — something I felt I was very good at, but now re-learning the importance to be more balanced and in control of one’s emotions. It’s very difficult though, but I have found that detaching from worldly desires and materialistic things becomes an almost no-brainer with age. Emotional detachment from people is the harder one, because you develop deeper relationships with those that matter over time and even the thought of losing any one of them could tilt your balance. But it’s inevitable and we will lose people we love along the way. The end of our individual journey too could be someone else’s grief. With time, everything heals and becomes better, and the more mindful and spiritual you are, that time reduces for the better and bounce back is quicker. I’ve lost many close people — particularly two very important people in my life — a childhood friend, Marlene, who died of cancer at 39, and my grandmother, Sithy, my rock, teacher, and inspiration. Emotional detachment and healing are possible and happens with time even with the most heart-breaking losses. But the toughest yet, according to what I have read and seen within my circles, is losing a child before your eyes. I cannot imagine how difficult that must be for people who have experienced it. And I am selfishly glad that I will never know.

My weekends in Hanoi, Vietnam are relatively chilled out and relaxing because I don’t have the typical distractions or ‘extra-curricular’ activities I would usually surround myself with back home. Hence, I spend them doing a few things I love, for myself, by myself — mostly meaningful, but sometimes, on a lazy Sunday, doing nothing much. Most times, however, I try to keep myself occupied by doing something to keep my sanity in check.

I’ve spent the past few weekends working on my second book, a novel this time. I’ve been spinning story ideas and characters in my head and felt I needed to start putting this down on paper to hopefully make steadier progress this time around (my first book of poetry and short stories took an awfully long time to make it to print).

Just so I don’t get lazy and fall into the procrastination trap again if I sat around at home, I’ve started to frequent lovely, quaint coffee spots around where I live for a change in environment that will force me to focus on my writing. I also like to people watch — which too can be distracting. But its people watching and striking conversations with random strangers that sometimes gives me the inspiration, diverse views, stories, and tidbits of information that I often ponder over and then infuse my writing with.

Last week, I observed a sad scenario. A local girl, probably in her mid-20s, dressed in a crisp white cut-off body suit sitting by herself, nursing a large cup of coffee. Her head was hanging down with her straight golden hair falling over, while she fixed her eyes on her phone that lay on the table. She was vigorously typing and continued to do so for a while. I continued to observe. From my line of view, I could partly see her face — she was sad. She was crying, quietly, wiping her tears now and then and taking a sip of coffee while continuing to type.

Everyone has a story. Not everything can be shared. Not everyone wants to share everything.

I was thinking about her and about life. I was tempted to say hello and ask if she was alright, but I didn’t. I was then pondering over what stopped me from doing so — I like talking to random strangers and hearing their stories, but on this occasion I held back. I feel, with age, I’m becoming more reserved and less open to making new friends — not in a bad way, but most definitely not instantly striking conversations with random strangers, which I would quite easily do before. I now prefer to just stay quiet, observe, and write and only build connections that matter. I was relating this to someone the other day, and we started talking about one of our favorite topics of discussion on a Sunday afternoon — stoicism and mindfulness. This time the conversation went even deeper where we explored and exchanged ideas about ‘nihilism’ and if it’s a good or bad thing. I’ve been reading a great deal about this topic recently, and I was trying to relate it to life journeys and experiences, and I remembered the girl at the café.

We’ve all had such moments — ups and downs and possible emotionally stressed times as well and that moment was very relatable. It dawned on me that the reason I didn’t respond or even felt obliged to was because I’ve learnt to accept that this is life — the ‘realistic moments’ of an otherwise meaningless life. My friend and I then debated about ‘nihilism’ and if this were the path we should follow so life becomes simpler and experiences less painful and/or non-joyous?! A nihilist believes that life is meaningless and the only known truth is the existence of the self — in other words, a selfish approach to life. It’s possible, but then would that justify your existence? And would it adversely affect people around you? Most likely.

Instead, the more stoic path is ‘existentialism’ — believing that life is meaningless but embracing self-awareness and believing that meaning can be created by self. Errmm, OK that’s a mouthful, I know. But what this essentially means is that life will throw curveballs at you in the form of emotional pain, unexpected events, grief, sadness, hardship and, on the other extreme of the spectrum, joy, euphoria, and exhilarating surprises. Awareness helps you to rid out or ride the wave because both pain and joy are just different sides of the same coin that will occur throughout this meaningless life from time to time. What’s important is not to dwell in either, rather experience it meaningfully, containing happiness and learning lessons from bitterness.

The heart is pure, but the mind is fickle. We must control our mind so we can master our feelings — easier said than done, but awareness and mindfulness help to stay true to this, and above all, remain sane in a cruel world.

When I came to Vietnam about six months ago on a work assignment, one of my challenges was to find food that was pork free. Pork is a very popular meat here and even vegetarian dishes often come with a sprinkling of pork-related something. My surprised colleagues would ask ‘why don’t you eat pork, it’s very delicious.’ I found myself repeatedly telling them ‘I’m Muslim so I don’t eat pork,’ something I would normally give as a reason. After a few times of politely refusing offers, citing religious reasons, I finally said I was allergic and if I ate it I could stop breathing and die. Only then the offers ceased. I was thinking about this and what I realized was that my religion didn’t matter and what I did or didn’t do as part of religious observances was irrelevant.

Why am I writing about this? Because I want to compare it to an experience we had some years ago back in Sri Lanka. We had an irritating neighbor who would often surprise us with temporary installations and fixtures, blocking our gate and sometimes the road, causing unnecessary unpleasantness. We, as a united neighborhood, tried to address it the civil way, but our efforts proved futile. When it happened again, we decided to lodge a complaint at our local police station so a formal, stern warning could be dealt, and a request made to stop being a public nuisance. We showed photos as evidence and started to explain the situation to a senior police official. To our dismay, the first question the officer asked us was ‘meka Muslim gedarakda? (is this the home of a Muslim). We were shocked. We read between the lines and did the right thing by dropping the case immediately and said we would attempt one more time to resolve it ourselves. That’s a tiny example of how deep-rooted the ethnic divide is (or should I now say WAS) in Sri Lanka, but many others, as you may know, have more horrifying stories.

Comparing these two simple scenarios, I feel that’s why we have failed to prosper as a nation because we have been trapped in racial bubbles, created by politicians, where everything is linked to ethnicity rather than looking at it objectively as ‘acceptable’ and ‘non-acceptable’ behaviors. Sadly, the world has become this way too, but are we as a nation finally resetting decades of emotional damage?

What’s happening right now in my beautiful Sri Lanka is a heartbreaking culmination of what can be termed as decades of divide and rule strategies by successive governments and executive presidents.

It’s sad that it had to happen this way, but finally the penny seemed to have dropped. It has, alas, dawned on all Sri Lankans that a political strategy based on a racist agenda with the sole objective of assuming and retaining power is not sustainable. You can fool, hoodwink and manipulate people only until they’re unable to feed their children — not just in terms of income generation, but a deprivation of basic needs. This has united the country in ways that I have never witnessed before and has exposed the true colors of politicians.

If not anything, the only good that will come out of this catastrophic ‘Arab Spring’ is that Sri Lankans will perhaps finally unite because hunger, poverty, uncertainty and discomfort are forms of discrimination and harassment that’s common to all beings — irrespective of titles, caste, creed, social standing. I hope this bitter lesson will be one that’s learnt for life and all Sri Lankans will respect each other and fight together against any (present and future) political tactics to divide people.

So what’s next and where do we go from here? While there’s a lot that needs to be done very carefully and delicately in making the next moves to revive and restore political as well as economic stability, there maybe some other points to ponder too as we hopefully embrace these developments as the best chance yet to drastically change course and reset as one country.

For starters, perhaps it’s time we stopped classifying people as majority and minority. We are a bunch of citizens who are extremely passionate and emotional, thus can easily be manipulated by dirty politics. But imagine the collective potential we could offer if led by the ‘right person?’ The type of ‘leader’ we need next is one that’s not only ‘qualified’ in terms of technical know-how of running a country, but also one with a heart and soul. We must first do some ‘cleansing’ within the murky political puddle and flush out the impurities and then infuse some new capability that encompasses brains, heart and muscle.

Often, these racist agendas center around heritage, traditions, and customs. But what good are these if they don’t support a progressive culture that fosters peace, respect, and freedom? While there’s many a lesson to learn from the series of developments in the country, there’s also a spiritual side we must consider. You cannot continue playing with people’s hearts and lives without a conscience. And if you don’t have one, this turn of events proves that you will be eventually reminded to grow one … fast.

I might be living and working overseas (but representing a Sri Lankan company who contributes significantly to the country’s economy) right now and I can create a home elsewhere if I wanted to. But I have always come back to what I call ‘home’ and there are many like me. We send our hard-earned USD back to the country to feed our families and invest in property and financial markets so we can eventually come back to our home. You owe it to us to lead the country with that in mind so we can return to our paradise isle and encourage the next generation to do the same.

To my fellow citizens, stay united forever and create an era where we speak up as loud as we can to denounce corruption, poor governance, dysfunctional leadership, injustice, and discrimination. Let’s fight for leaders who are picked based on their capability and integrity. Keep fighting for the right thing, until honest and capable people restore our nation. I feel I can finally enjoy the freedom and rights of a Sri Lankan with a voice and hopefully come back and not ask myself again — why am I living here!