Wednesday 19 July 2023

Discovering Dhivehi Raajje

For those who do not know where Dhivehi Raajje is, it is the native name of the Maldives.  Their language is Dhivehi, a kingdom ruled by a Royal Family until 1968, hence the name.  I spent about ten days in May 2023, primarily working but also taking some time to relax.  The work took me to three islands, Thoddoo, Masafahi, and Hanamadhoo.  So, ten days on planes, boats, Taxis, and Foot.

Until I went to Maldives and spoke to locals, I assumed that the name Maldives is derived from Maalai (garland in Tamil) and Theevu (Island in Tamil), an archipelago shaped like a garland.  To my eyes, the archipelago does look like a garland.  No one in the Maldives has heard of this interpretation – it looks like it is made up in Sri Lanka (or probably in my imagination because Tamil is my native language).  Locals explain that Mal is from the Arabic Word, Mahall, meaning a stopping place, and  Dives meaning deep.


The Maldives

The Maldives comprises approximately 1200 islands, of which about 200 were inhabited.  In addition, it has a countless number of lagoons.  A population concentration drive reduced the number of inhabited islands to 186, but an electoral reorganization ended it to 187.  Each Island has at least a Jetty, a Mosque, a School, a Hospital, a Court, a Soccer grounds, and an Island Council Office.  All basic amenities are available on each Island and paid for by the public purse.  Some have airports to land propeller aircraft, which brings the Tourists to remote Islands.  Each Atoll has an Atoll Capital, and ferry services are available daily from these Capitals to each Inhabited Island within the Atoll.

A few Agricultural entrepreneurs have leased some uninhabited islands to grow tropical vegetables and fruits to supply other islands.  In addition, the hospitality industry had leased a few uninhabited islands and built Resorts.  They are the ones used to promote tourism in the Maldives, depicting the sun, waves, beaches, and the ocean. 

Tourism promotion does not accurately reflect the local culture.


View of a Resort Island

The culture in inhabited islands is Islamic, but in the Resort islands, flexible to meet the requirements of tourists.  I noticed that women live actively on inhabited islands within Islamic strictures.  They enjoy the beaches and are very mobile (on scooters), which is very pleasing compared to other Islamic countries I have lived or been to. 


Mobility of Women

Tourism, Fisheries, and low population have made Maldives the most developed South Asian Nation.  The workforce is largely from South Asia.  The combination of the Islamic lifestyle, the South Asian Workforce,  and the state of development reminded me of Oman, where I lived for nine years.  Their appearance, the many words they speak, and their phonetics reminded me of Sri Lanka, where I was born and grew up.  I was very comfortable there!



Fisheries - A Major Economic Sector

The streets of Male, especially in the older part, reminded me of Europe.  They were laid with bricks, and both sides were treelined.  Scooters parked neatly and tightly along the sides, stacked like sardines.  Most of the city's speed limits are about 30 km/h, and the cars take a gentle stroll.  The tariff of Taxis is fixed – transport within a locality is 30 MVR ( <2 USD), and between localities is 55 MVR (~3.5 USD).  There's no metering or haggling.  Expats are not allowed to drive Taxis, and most Taxi drivers speak well in English.  Traffic is largely disciplined, although Police are not visible.


Streets of Male

Even on inhabited islands, tourism is the mainstay.  All consumed goods have three taxes and a special fourth one for tourists.  Approximately 35% of what you pay is for the Government, in different taxes.  


The Thoddoo Island

I was on an Island named Thoddoo, a population of 2000, of which half are expats.  The size is about 4 km2, with about 60 Motels and a dedicated beach for tourists, where requirements of swimming attire are relaxed.  Swimming suits are not allowed outside this dedicated beach, and the locals avoid these beaches.  They have their own!


A dedicated beach for Tourists at Thoddoo

In addition to the Islands, countless Ocean Lagoons provide different ecosystems and offer a potential for reclamation.  The lagoons have coral barriers, preventing Ocean waters from mixing with Lagoon water.  Waves are stopped by these coral barriers, making the corals look like white fences.  The water inside the lagoon remains calm and, based on the depth, provides different hues of blue.  Some Lagoons near the Capital, Male, are being reclaimed for habitation.  I stayed in one of them named Hulhumale.  The development is in several phases, and the first has been completed.  Hulhumale is connected to Male by a bridge, providing access to the airport and Government Offices in Male.


Reclaiming Lagoons

The Capital, Male, is very vibrant, but the islands are the opposite – just too quiet.  So, it is your destination if you want to be in a vibrant as well as a quiet place.  And, of course, if you have a lot of money to spend, there are Resort Islands, some offer Rooms for 25,000 USD per night, I am told.  On average, a room in Male will cost about 75 USD; in a resort, it will cost about 250 USD per night. 

Thursday 11 May 2023

The Chaos Continues at Lahore Airport

I have lived in Lahore for 4.5 years since October 1996 and have been a regular visitor since 2003.  I have many friends there, and they make me feel very welcome every time I go there.  It’s a highly family-oriented country, rich in culture, and most Pakistanis will do anything for their family and friends.  They are willing to work hard – I always feel sorry for the laborers toiling on road works at high noon.  I just love their food, textiles, and leather products.







But, their attitude and behavior in Public and adherence to simple etiquette are less than desired.  

In 1996, I was in Lahore and on my way to Colombo.  I had to fly from Lahore to Karachi by PIA and then to Colombo by Air Lanka.  I went to Lahore airport to find out that my flight to Karachi was canceled due to technical reasons.  There was chaos.  No one was there to give clear advice to the stranded passengers.  I approached a PIA officer and asked for help.  He shrugged his shoulders and said, I quote, “This is Pakistan.”  I had to go to the Air Lanka office in the city, rebook my flights, spend two days in Karachi, and go to Colombo.

I was at Lahore airport a few days ago, waiting in the queue for Foreign Passport holders to emigrate.  I realized that the line was full of Pakistanis.  There were many queues for them, but only one for Foreign Passport holders.  In front of me was a family that looked educated, and a man in his forties, appeared to be the head of the clan.  I complained to him that he was in the queue for Foreigners.  He, too, shrugged his shoulders, pointed out to other Pakistanis in Foreigner’s column, and asked me if they all looked like Foreigners.  I said that’s very smart, sarcastically.  He came back and said, “Yeah, I am smart, but you are not.”  In my heart, I agreed with him.  If I were smart enough, I wouldn’t have picked up an argument with him.  He continued:  This is Pakistan - There’’s only one rule here – that is, there’s NO RULE.  He then asked if I was a Sri Lankan, and I answered positively.  He retorted, “Defaulters.”; and I responded, “We are paying it back.”  He didn’t have an answer.

I then stopped an Immigration Officer passing by and complained.  He replied – Stay in the queue and wait for your turn.  The Officer who has to enforce a rule is unwilling, and the passenger who has to follow the rule was not complying.  I had to give way to those incorrectly denying my privilege.

They are not alone in this – most South Asians are like this.  I have come across queue jumpers in India and Sri Lanka as well.  I am not sure why we, the South Asians, misbehave in our home countries but follow all courtesies, rules, and etiquette when we are in the West.  It must be the environment – it’s not genetic.  It appears that if we care to be decent, we will not get anywhere in our home countries.

 


Saturday 29 April 2023

Looking for Something, Anything to do!

Being semi-retired has its blessings and agony.  I do have more time to what I want to do, but do not have many exciting things to do.  I get bored easily, and it is painful.  During one of these agonising moments, I received an offer from the Sri Lankan Airlines, offering a return ticket from Australia to Sri Lanka for a dollar.  As always, there are caveats.  I need to pay the taxes, buy a return ticket from Sydney to Melbourne and surrender 10,000 frequent flyer miles.  The third one is easy, I had no plans for the frequent flyer points, and the first two cost me 480 AUD.  In summary, get a return ticket to Colombo for about 40% of the going market price.  Not bad after all.  My wife grudgingly approved my travel, and I found a week when I did not have any commitments as a consultant.  So, I hit the road; I mean the skies.

The travel took about 20 hours door to door in total; for a Melbournian, it would have been 15 hours the most.  It was the first time, I envied the Melbournians, but once I thought of Melbourne’s weather, I was happy to be a Sydney Sider.

My experience with the Australian Border Security at Melbourne airport was not great.  The person, who was brushing for traces of drugs, used the same filter-paper for three people, including me.  I had no idea who the other two were.  I made an inconsequential protest, which he did not like.  He said he was trying to be efficient, and 99.99% of the travellers are traces-free.  I smiled and moved on.  The next thing I know was another officer, walked straight to me, and pulled me from the queue for a body scan.  He was rude for Australian standards of etiquettes, and probably suited for a security guard at an airport in Saudi Arabia.  Well, there was nothing to be found on me, and he felt that he had settled the score on behalf of his lazy mate.

The flight on Sri Lankan airlines was okay – nothing to brag about.  The staff were courteous, food was average, some of the electronics in the plane were not working, and there was a urine stench in toilets.  But the flight was half empty, which is a rare thing in flights out of Sydney.

I spent the first day catching up with my friends at my former employer; it was nice to be received friendly after 3.5 years.  It is the organisation I worked for seven years, which took me to many parts of the world, and introduced me to several cultures.  I reminisced the good old days with my friends, who are also now getting old.

Now, looking for something to do.  I wanted to do things I haven’t done before.  The Eastern Province of Sri Lanka is largely Tamil (my mother-tongue) speaking area, and I knew very little.  I went to one of its major cities Batticaloa, in 1979, and to the other, Trincomalee, in 1997.  So, it became the candidate for me to do anything.

I took a train from Colombo to Vaalaichenai, the train station near the world famous Pasikudah beach.  I had a reserved seat in second class, but the train was not crowded.  In fact, one of the 3rd class compartments was completely empty.  It was very different to the days I travelled by train in Sri Lanka in the Seventies.  I had hung holding onto the train and travelled between stations before I could get in, find a place under seats to spread newspaper and sleep for the remainder of the journey.  When I reach my destination, my shirts and pants will be full of grime.  Now, the empty compartments.  I guess people prefer road travel, which gives them better flexibility and comfort.  The travel was very rocky.  I felt all my bones were being displaced as the train sped, or crawled to a halt.  My attempt to read a book was futile.

But, the train was moving to schedule – something that did not happen in the Seventies.  Hawkers were selling savoury snacks, gingelly candies, and fresh produce.  As the train moved from urbanised areas through forested areas, fresh produce was on sale.  Mangoes, wood apple, corn and so on.  I tried some savoury snacks, a steamed cake (Alampi), and a semi-ripe mango, sliced and sprinkled with a mix of chilly and salt powder.  That was yum and reminded a common snack when I was kid growing in Jaffna.

Finding a guest house was not difficult at Pasikudah.  The Auto driver spoke Tamil with beautiful Batticaloa accent.  He took me to a guest house; I did not like, the owner called another and recommended I go there, we went there.  The second place had a room only for a night, but I wanted for two.  So, the second owner called the third guesthouse and checked if rooms are available for two nights, and they were.  The auto guy took me to the third one; I wanted to see the rooms, they were clean, we agreed on a price, and I decided to stay.  The hoteliers (Guest-House-liers?), were looking after each other.  I am sure the Auto driver would have got his commission.  He gave me his phone number and asked me to call him if I wanted to go anywhere.

The Guesthouse I stayed was in Kalkudah, about 100 m from the Kalkudah Beach, and a kilometre from Pasikudah beach.  Both at walking distances, but differed significantly.  Kudah in Tamil means a gulf.  Pasikudah has a coral beach – no sands, so the hoteliers have trucked in sands to welcome the westerners.  It has a shallow pool for swimmers, but full of algae and sea-weeds, known in Tamil as Pasi.  During the rainy season, a river discharge near these Kudahs.  This makes the water murky, especially in the shallow Pasikudah.  Corals and fish are not visible during rainy season.  Kalkudah beach, on the other hand, has beautiful sands, but the sea floor is steep, so it gets neck-deep within 15 m from the coast.  Because of the depth and active waves, the water remains clear.  The day I went to this beach, there were only five people.  It was just empty.  For good swimmers looking to get lost in nature, it’s an ideal place to be.


Pasikudah Beach

The Guesthouse I stayed had only three rooms; all were occupied when I was there.  It was run by two women, likely to be in their thirties.  They offer home cooked food for their guests.  This is important because there are no restaurants to eat out, except those in hotels. The ladies were efficient, friendly but maintain a respectable distance from the guests.  The guest house had a long veranda for the guest to enjoy the sea breeze.  I liked it very much, spent hours idling there.  Unfortunately, there are scrublands between the veranda and the sea, which conceal the sea view.  I am sure that the scrubland will be cleared, and a hotel will be built shortly.


The Verandah at the Guesthouse

During off-season, both Kudahs have no active life.  I felt there were more stray dogs and cattle than people in this part of the world.  There are scars of the civil war with LTTE, and the mayhem wreaked by the Tsunami.  There’s also gratitude to the Government for being looked after both.  An Australian Government sponsored poster warned people-smugglers and attempts against illegal entry to Australia.

I walked from one end of Pasikudah beach to the other, a distance of about 2 km, to reach a small landing site for local fishermen.  There were about 20 boats there, all in good condition, an indicator of Government subsidies and/or thriving business.  It is probably the smallest fish landing site I have ever been.  An auctioneer seems to be in charge of the site, and the bidders purchased fish for retailing elsewhere.  I arrived together with a boat with Spanish mackerel.  An old balance was used to weigh fish, and the weight-measures were rusted and worn.  Despite much technological advancement in daily life in many parts of Sri Lanka, this landing site has not adopted any of them.  It could do with an electronic balance, the least.  The auctioneer’s assistant weighed two or three fish at a time.  I did a quick count of fish on the floor and estimated that the pile is about 50 kilos.  The Weighing Man declared it was fifty-two kilos.  I was very happy with my assessment ability.  There were only two bidders for the pile, the first offered LKR300 per kg (1.95 USD), then next offered LKR320 (2.08 USD) per kg, and the sale was sealed.

No longer having anything more to do at the Kudahs, I travelled to Trincomalee by bus.  The bus was painted in and out, with cartoon characters from the movie Madagascar.  Not sure what the fascination was.  Several speakers were blaring Tamil movie songs of the eighties and nineties.  It was intolerable at the beginning, but my ears settled down and even started to enjoy some of the songs I recognised.  The journey took 2.5 hours (About 30 years ago, it took more than 8 hours), thanks to a new road connecting Batticaloa and Trincomalee.  The road network in Sri Lanka is very good, and all credit goes to the ex-President, Mahinda Rajapaksa.  He remains immensely popular, and it appears he will win the next elections if he chooses to compete.



The colorful bus, I travelled in

Demography of Trincomalee is unique in Sri Lanka.  It has all three ethnic communities, Tamil, Muslim and Sinhala communities in significant numbers.  Only other district similar to Trincomalee is the Capital District, Colombo.  Tamils used to be the majority in the sixties, but, emigration of Tamils and higher birth rates among Muslims have made Muslims the majority community in 2007.
P
I was keen to visit the Koneswaram Temple, originally built in 205 B.C.  It’s a temple for Lord Shiva, and over the centuries, occasionally referred to in Tamil Hindu Literature, mostly by South Indian Saints.  It was destroyed by Portuguese and rebuilt during the 17th century.  One of statues of Lord Nandi belonging to the 7th Century was found very recently in 2013, during some excavation works.  There may be still be others still buried.



Koneswaram Temple

Koneswaram reminded the obvious fact that that religion and language are different from each other.  Unfortunately in Sri Lanka, whenever communal riots occurred, mobs identified Buddhism with Sinhalese and Hinduism with Tamils.  Consequently, places of worship of both religions were attacked and robbed.  I doubt that will occur in future.  I have witnessed scores of Sinhala disciples at Hindu Temples, and Tamil disciples in Buddhist temples in recent years.  The day I went to Koneswaram, almost every disciple at the Temple was Sinhalese.

I also went to Swami Lakshmi Narayan Temple, a very recent one at Trincomalee.   The Swami Lakshmi Narayan Sect, originated in Gujarat, has been building very beautiful temples all over the world.  I am fortunate to visit their oldest temple in Gujarat, their largest temple near-Delhi, and the one in Trincomalee.  It’s a Temple for Vishnu, the Hindu God for Protection (Brahma is the God for Creation and Shiva is the God for Destruction).  I also think the Temple in Trincomalee will be the second largest Hindu Temple in Sri Lanka in size, second only to the Murugan Temple at Nallur, Jaffna.  Another attraction at Trincomalee is the Kanniya Hot springs.  This site has archaeological ruins of a Buddhist Temple and a Shiva Temple.


Sri Lakshmi Narayan Temple, Trincomalee

In addition to my religious-cum-tourist excursions, I enjoyed my stay at a Guesthouse near the beach, and home cooked sea food at my in-laws house.  The beach was better than the ones at Kudahs.  There are hundreds of guest-houses which offered inexpensive but decent accommodation and sea-food restaurants.  I had dinner at one of them and was turned off by a westerner who smoked marijuana in the dining area.  Some of the tourists do not respect local rules and customs, and some of locals put-up with such transgression, for the dollars.  Not good.  I found my way back to Colombo by a night bus, which departed Trincomalee at 10 pm, and reached Colombo at 4 am.  Pretty good compared to conditions before.

The cost of living remain very high for locals in Sri Lanka, and for my regret, some bad habits of South Asia such as spitting on the streets and queue jumping are also common.  However, in many ways, Sri Lanka has changed for better since the end of the Civil War.  Hardly anyone wanted to talk about it, whoever did talk, expressed relief that the war is over.  The economy seems to be doing well; there are constructions everywhere in Colombo.  There are not too many beggars on the streets, and most of slums near Colombo had been cleared, and people are re-settled elsewhere.

My return flight on Sri Lankan airlines was better than the previous one.  I slept continuously for six hours, a feat I have not done in any of my previous flights.  The drinks, food and the time of the flight contributed to this rest.  When woke, I watched a Sinhala movie titled, Thanha Rathi Ranga, illustrating an untended consequence of the war - too many guns in wrong hands, which was a thriller with a good sense of humor, but ending up in a tragedy.  We arrived half an hour ahead of schedule in Melbourne, from where I found my way home in Sydney.

I set on a journey, looking for anything to do, but ended up doing a lot of things which I wanted to do over the years.  I am glad that I could do so.

Travel in Sri Lanka using public transport

I had been in SL for 11 days, one in Colombo, another in Vavuniya, and the rest were in Negombo, at a quiet resort near the Airport.  I mainly traveled by public transport on this trip, and this blog is about my observations.

Galleface Beach, Colombo

Independent Square, Colombo

The Museum, Colombo

Sunset in Colombo

What happened to the Sun at Galleface?

I took an overnight bus from Colombo to Vavuniya, about 265 km.  The bus left at 9 PM and reached Vavuniya at 1 AM the next day.  The travel included a stop in the middle of nowhere for stretching, relieving the bladder, and, of course, for refreshments.  So, 265 km in 3.5 hours was pretty good.  The roads in Sri Lanka are perfect for a South Asian country, a credit to the Rajapakse regime.  How they used infrastructure development to plunder the country is a well-known story. 

I was looking forward to loud Tamil songs and a Tamil Movie and was satisfied; the bus had it all.  But I was exhausted and could not keep my eyes open.  I mainly slept during the travel.  One thing I enjoyed was taking a leak on the streetside.  I know it's not hygienic, but considering the stop was in a semi-forest, I felt good as my bladder pressure eased.   Next was a cup of black tea for 50 LKR.  There was plenty of sugar and a few juliennes of ginger; it was more like ginger syrup than the tea.

I was the only one to get down in Vavuniya, there were a few auto rickshaws, and I hired one.  The driver wanted 200 LKR for a distance of 300 m.  It's twice the daytime rate, and it was only 1 AUD; I was happy to pay.  I stayed in a two-star hotel with a very spacious Air Conditioned Room.  

Sticker on the Hotel Room Door

They charged me only for a day, as I checked in at 1:30 AM and checked out at 10:30 PM.  Most International Hotels would have charged me for two days.  The hotel was reasonably patronized.

Vattrapalai Kannahi Amman Temple

Madam at Thiruketheeswaram

Historic Madu Church

My return bus to Colombo left Vavuniya at 11:30 PM and arrived in Colombo at 4 AM.  Very similar to the journey to Vavuniya, without entertainment.  I didn’t even notice it.  

One sad observation - The passengers who sat next to me on both trips were much younger than me, Tamils, overweight, on the phone before departure, cursing some third party.  There is a lot of negative energy in the youngsters.

Since then, and until yesterday, I had been holed up in a hotel in Negombo, working, walking, eating, and sleeping.

Rain Clouds forming at Negombo Beach.

Yesterday, I visited a friend I hadn’t seen for at least 50 years.  He was in Colombo, and I went to see him by public transport.  The first leg was from Negombo to Colombo by bus.  I went to Negombo bus station at noon; two men were hollering for passengers to Colombo.  There were three or four passengers when I got in.  They waited 40 minutes until the bus was full.  A young Turkish Woman sat beside me on an extension seat to mine.  Until then, I thought it was my armrest.  They have spent a day in Negombo and are now heading for better South beaches.  Within 40 minutes, we were in Pettah, the busiest marketplace in Colombo.  I remember going there as a kid, and it looks about the same even now.  Men were pulling carts loaded with consignment - sad.  It was crowded, noisy, and the weather was horrible – hot and humid.

Sunsets at Negombo Lagoon

I looked for a place for lunch and found a vegetarian restaurant commonly known in Colombo as SaivaKade.  They had only a few items on their menu, and I asked for Dosa.  These dosas at SaivaKade’s are very different from those you get elsewhere.  They are thick pan-fried soft bread.  He served two of them and topped them with six scoops of sambar (a vegetable stew) and sambal (green chilies, coconut, salt, and onions ground together).  I don’t even remember the last time I ate this combo.  It cost me 2 AUD, including a generous 20% tip.  I was worried that it would cause an upset stomach.  It has been 24 hours since then, and I am fine. 

Now, I have to go to Dehiwela, I had a few options, but I wanted to travel by Train.  The view for passengers of a coastal train in Colombo is spectacular, and I have done it many times, but I always wanted it once more.  After a ten-minute walk under the hot sun, I reached the station where the Train was about to move.  I felt as if it was waiting for me.  Good feeling to watch the Ocean, ignoring the slums between the railway track and the beach.  How easy is it to ignore the suffering of others, I wondered.



Colombo Coastal Trains

After visiting my friend, I returned to Dehiwela and asked the counter clerk if I could go to Negombo by Train.  He said, can’t you read the board with train schedules?  I was unhappy with his response but went to the board, which said there was a train to Chilaw (not Negombo).  I did not know that the Chilaw train stopped at Negombo.  I confirmed it by asking the person updating the board with a whiteboard marker.  Then I went to the counter and bought the ticket.

The Train was about 20 minutes late, and when it arrived, there were vacant seats, so I took one of them.  The Train moved on, again caressing the coastline of Colombo, providing a panchromatic view of the sunset, and then gently rolled into Colombo Fort.  

Now I entered a phase of Train travel, typical of a developing country, which I wanted to experience again.  Passengers kept on embarking until everyone was almost touching their fellow passengers.  There was breathing room only.  The windows of the Train were shut to prevent rainwater from entering.  Gradually the heat and humidity built up, and I was treated to a free sauna.  After 20 minutes, the Train moved to the next station, Maradana, about a km away.  Again another twenty-minute wait, and now, I am suffocating.  Being the passenger next to the window, I tried to open the shutters.  I got help from a fellow passenger, and we opened and relieved all.  That was a good feeling.

A 38 km journey took 90 minutes.  The Train stopped every 2 to 3 km. It was a suburban train.  I kept watching the world pass by in slow motion.  Houses, shops, and everything else remains as they were 40 years ago.  They are small, the architecture has not changed, and they are lit mainly by mercury bulbs.   There were Autorickshaws and scooters, which were not common 40 years ago.  Reasonably new cars are parked at some houses.  The Train crossed several road crossings, where road users were waiting and giving way to the Train.  I felt superior to them since they were waiting to give me way.  What a silly feeling!

I arrived at Khurana, a station before Negombo, closer to my hotel.  The feeling was incredibly familiar.  It reminded me of the days we arrived at Sarasaviuyanna, the University of Peradeniya train station.  It was wet, raining, and a few passengers, and when I got out of the station, there was hardly anything.

With this travel, my to-do list is one less thing to do.

 

Friday 22 January 2021

Uncivil War

I had been dismayed over the language spoken on the US Cable channels, especially at Fox in recent years.  The language is often rowdy, sarcasm was everywhere, facts were twisted, and used selectively.  The hosts never had intellectuals on their shows.  Probably they are not smart enough to handle them.

I could never think of the best way to describe it, till, I heard President Biden called it, what it is.  It's an uncivil war.  

Sadly, the FNC's hosts (Hannity, Ingraham, Hilton, and Carlson), have huge followings.  I wonder why these people can't be charged for hate speech?  

They even throw doubt on the hard work the scientists do or have done.  They have seeded doubts on the merits of vaccinations.  This is what the Taliban did in Afghanistan against polio vaccinations.  I wonder how Fox hosts differed from the Taliban.  I like to see the companies producing the vaccines take them to court - just the way the Voting Machine manufacturers did to them to shut them up.

Now the race is on to take credit.  The Trumpians want to take credit for vaccines being available in less than a year in the USA.  Wonder how long it took for the Chinese, British, Indians, and Russians to produce the vaccines, and distribute them around the world?  Will the Trumpians take credit for all of that too?  It is the hard work of scientists, and the investments various governments made resulted in the vaccines being available within a year.  The USA, just like many other governments made the investment.  Good on them.

Australians invested in four projects and brought one to a close because the results were poor.  That's what science is all about.  Discovery through educated trials (expect errors too)!  Our space programs failed - Appolo 13 crashed miserably.  The whole world mourned.  No one criticized the scientists,  Thank god, there was no Fox those days.

I hope the Americans wake up on their own.  The trouble instigator in chief has been isolated, at least for now.  Hope he stays that way and the uncivil war ends soon.  The world can do away with the nastiness of the past four years.

Tuesday 24 March 2020

An Extraordinary evening with Ordinary People


Although I left Sri Lanka in Aug 1980, I am privileged to live or travel to South Asian countries frequently since then.  When I meet people from ordinary walks of life in such countries, I feel good.  This is not to say that there are no ordinary people in Australia or the USA, where I lived a considerable number of years.  But, in my heart, they are different types of ordinary people, and they do not warm my heart as those I meet in South Asian countries.



Galle face from Shangri La, Colombo

Recently, I was in Colombo, and I wanted to go to a temple around 6 pm.  I came out of the hotel and waved at an auto-rickshaw for transport.  Autorickshaws (autos) in Colombo are metered, and mostly, the drivers turn the meter on, as the passenger gets in.  This is not the case in India, where I have used autos regularly.  Instead, the fare needs to be agreed before the journey starts. 


The Lake View from Shangri La, Colombo

The driver, recognizing that I have come from overseas, asked me if I wanted to buy gems.  I declined.  After a brief silence, he told me that for every potential customer he takes to the jeweller, he gets a voucher for 2 litres of petrol worthy of 2 USD, irrespective of whether the customer purchases anything or not.  He said that all that I needed to do was to spend 5 to 10 minutes, pretend to purchase something. 


A failed attempt of the Lotus Tower and clouds to mask the Sun

After a few minutes of contemplation, I agreed.  I did want to buy small jewellery for my wife and wanted to get a feel for the prices and selections.  As I entered the jeweller, I was warmly welcomed by a salesman.  There were several of them, but I was the only customer at that time.  The shop was VERY brightly lit.  The salesman greeted me in English, gave me his business card, and asked where I had come from.  I said that I am a native of Jaffna, but now Australia is home.  The salesman said that he spoke Tamil, my mother tongue.  Since then the conversation took place in Tamil.

Minute by minute, the number of people who wanted to help the salesman increased, and the price of the jewellery I showed interest in dropped by a few dollars.  I was offered a cup of tea, which I declined as I was feeling guilty for wasting their time.  I did not want to continue the charade, so, I politely told them I am only looking to get the feel for prices and selection and left the shop.

The auto driver was happily waiting for me.  He asked me if I bought anything, and I said no.  Had I purchased something he may have received an additional commission.  He then took me to the temple, where I wanted to go.  At the temple, he showed me the voucher and offered a discount to the fare.  I guess he wanted to do the right thing by me.  I declined his offer and paid him in full.  He was willing to wait until I have finished my prayers and take me back to the hotel.  That too I declined.  I had something else in my mind.


Kathiresan Temple, Bambalapitiya, Colombo

I have been to this temple many times.  My first memory of the temple is in the late 50’s as a little boy, going there with my parents.  The temple has gone through several rounds of refurbishment since then, it looked very clean and well lit.  I was at the temple after the scheduled hours of pooja, so, hardly anyone there.  I wanted to make a special offering to Lord Shiva in memory of my deceased family members.  As I waited in front of the Shrine, a young priest, approached me and waited till I opened my eyes (I have a habit of saying prayers with my eyes closed).  He took details of my deceased ancestors from me, and did the prayer, and gave me the offering.  The offering was a collection of few betel leaves, two bananas, flowers, and a small quantity of holy ashes.  I gave him a thatchanai (an appreciation for his services) thanked him and left the temple.


Sri Lankan Beaches, Second to None

My plan then was to get some alcohol, snacks, street food, and return to the hotel, watch darkening skies of Colombo as it went to sleep (my room was on the 32nd floor of the hotel) as I enjoy my acquisitions of the evening.  

Within ten minutes of walking, I found a supermarket, but that store was not licensed to sell alcohol.  I took a packet of peanuts and walked to the checkout.  The cashier was a young Tamil girl, she recognized me as a Hindu (I was holding the offerings from the temple in one hand, and had holy ash on my forehead), and wanted to be friendly.  She teasingly asked me in Tamil if I would give her the bananas, and she did so as a conversation opener.  I immediately offered, but she felt a bit shy, so, I insisted that she takes them.  She smiled, and called the security guard standing nearby, and asked if he would like to have the beetle leaves.  The man did not have any teeth to chew, and he said so and declined.  Then the girl asked him if he would like to take it for someone in his family, and he said he would.  The girl took the offerings from me, took some holy ash with piety, applied on her forehead and handed over the beetle leaves, bananas and flowers to the security guard.  I paid for the peanuts, and as I exited the shop, I saw the security guard eating the bananas I gave.  I felt good and started looking for an auto to return to the Hotel. 


Galle face taking on a new face under SWRD's supervision

I woke up an auto driver from his slumber, and he agreed to take me back to the hotel.  I told him that I would like to get some alcohol and some street food.  He took me to a liquor shop, which is a small version of Dan Murphy's in Australia.  A variety of alcohol, mostly beyond the reach of an average Sri Lankan was on display.  I bought the local rum (Arack) and some ice.   As I got back to the auto, the driver was concerned if the prices were unfair.  I reassured him that the prices are fair.  Then I asked him to take me to the Galle-face green, my favourite place for street food, before dropping me at the hotel.  Got a good portion of squid and local bread (paratha) for dinner, and returned to the auto driver for dropping me at the hotel.  I paid his dues and extra 80 LKR (50 US Cents), and he was very happy.

Within a few hours, I met two auto drivers, a bunch of jewellery salesmen, a priest, a salesgirl, and a security guard.  The first auto driver wanted to share his commission, the priest was willing to wait for me, the sales girl was friendly, pious and generous, and the second auto driver was concerned if I had paid more than necessary for the booze.  They are the ordinary people missing in my daily routine.  I think I made a small difference to their evening, and so did they to mine.

Wednesday 26 February 2020

2020 version of Jaffna Hindu Funeral Rites in Sydney


On the 8th of February 2020, my world became less generous, less gentle and less gracious, because my Mother in Law (MIL) passed away in Sydney.  She is one of the most generous, gentle and gracious people, I have known.  She was unwell for nearly three years and taught us how to suffer gracefully during the last two years.  This blog is about the funeral rites that followed her death, and how it differed from Hindu funeral rites in Jaffna, Sri Lanka, where I was born. 

My MIL passed away at the Westmead Hospital in Sydney.  The hospital staff wanted to take over the body within four hours, to clean and store in the mortuary.  The immediate family who were present, obliged.  She died on a Saturday early morning, and the funeral directors could not access her till the Monday morning.  Furthermore, the funeral directors had other commitments, and hence the funeral was scheduled for the 12th.

In Jaffna, the family will mourn in the presence of the deceased for nearly 12 hours, while the arrangements for the funeral will be taking place.  Typically, the body will be cremated within 24 hours of death, following the funeral rites at home.

On the 12th morning, the immediate family ‘viewed’ the deceased at 8:30 AM and the rest of the family and friends did so till 10 AM.  Funeral rites followed that in the presence of mourners. 
In Jaffna, there was a group of priests who were ordained to administer the funeral rites.  In Sydney, it was done by volunteers, attached to the Hindu Society (popularly known as the Sydney Saiva Manram) for a modest fee to pay for various consumables for administering the rites.  The chief volunteer was supported by two additional volunteers from the Sri Lankan Hindu community in Sydney. 

The rites started with the invocation of Lord Ganesha, a Hindu God.  Lord Ganesha is the God of Beginnings.  A cone of ground-turmeric paste mounted with grass is formed to depict Ganesha, and a prayer is offered to him.  He is asked to oversee and ensure the proceedings are completed properly. 

The second rite is the invocation of Lord Shiva, the supreme God.  A metal pot with a narrow neck (Kudam in Tamil), is filled with water, and a coconut is kept up-side-down to cover the opening of the pot.  This formation depicts Lord Shiva, also known as the destroyer.  Prayers are offered to Lord Shiva, and he is requested to accept the deceased soul.

The third rite is the invocation of the departed soul.  Instead of a metal pot, a mud-pot is used to create another formation for the soul and prayers are offered to invite the wandering soul to come and settle in the water within the mud-pot.

The fourth rite is to physically purify the body.  In Jaffna, herbal shampoo and oil are applied liberally to the body, and the body will be washed and dressed.  In Sydney, the washing of the body is done at the hospital soon after the death and dressing of the body is done by the funeral directors a day before the funeral.  Hence, the fourth rite in Sydney is only ceremonial to symbolize what was done in Jaffna.  Friends and family were invited to apply a drop each of herbal shampoo, oil, and water.  It is then assumed that the body is cleansed and dressed.

The fifth rite is to prepare a blend of fragrances and perfumes for the deceased.  The mixing is done in a pestle with mortar when a close relative pounds the substances as the volunteers recite prayers.  Subsequently, the fragrant concoction is applied to the deceased.

The sixth rite is to offer the deceased vakkarisi a mixture of rice and other grains.  This is an offering reluctantly and sorrowfully made by the immediate family, reflecting the good things the deceased had done to them over the years.  A handful of rice is placed at the mouth of the deceased by each, often bring tears to those involved.  Rice, instead of paddy-which can germinate, symbolize, the prayer seeking no rebirth for the deceased. 

At this stage, in Jaffna, the coffin is closed, and the body is taken to the cemetery in a procession where the body is to be cremated.  In Sydney, where the cremation takes place at the parlour itself, remaining rituals continue, as if it is only now the deceased has arrived at the parlour. 

In Jaffna, the pot in which the deceased soul is invoked is carried on the left shoulder by a male member of the immediate family.  He will walk around the deceased on the funeral pyre, three times.  The family barber will walk behind the pot-carrier and pierce the pot at the end of each round and let the water drain.  At the end of the three rounds, the pot-carrier will drop the pot behind him, crashing the pot, and releasing the water.

In Sydney, the key volunteer replaces the barber, and instead of piercing the pot, he will only tap the pot.  Once the three rounds are over, the pot-carrier walks outside the parlour and drops the pot releasing the water.  This is done so to prevent the parlour floor from getting wet.

Recall that the pot is where the soul is invoked.  During the leakage of water, the soul is released to find its way to meet the greater soul, the Paramatma.  In Sydney, then the coffin is sealed, placed on a stage, a piece of camphor is alight, and the curtain is drawn.  Later, the funeral directors will transfer the body to a crematorium to cremate the body.  In Jaffna, the pyre will be set on fire, to cremate the body, after the pot is crashed.

The Jaffna-migrant community in Sydney does its best to cling on to the traditions of Jaffna.  The manner in which my Mother in Law’s funeral was held shows the extent to which the community tried to stick to its traditions, but also flexible enough to adapt to the new environment, and Sydney-living!. 

I believe there will be more adaptations with time, largely due to the apathy and (in)convenience among the next generation of Jaffna-origin Hindus in Sydney.  But I also think some of the practices of Hindus from other parts of the world, as well as the practices of other religions and communities, will blend with the traditions from Jaffna.  An example is the delivery of tributes and vote of thanks at my Mother in Law’s funeral, which is a common practice at Christian Funerals, that never happens in Jaffna. 

The merger of respectful practices, irrespective of their origins are always welcome.

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