While Burma continues to remain in unfortunate and shameful circumstances, I move on to the last page of the Diaries. It’s been 10 days since I flew out of the small, green island to reach the crazy and somehow lovable city of Bombay but every now and then I keep flying back to the Emerald Isle.I arrived here with many DVDs, new clothes, tea-tins, a coffee-table book on Sri Lanka, a beautiful ‘Thank-you plaque’ of the shape of the island and a strange numbness of leaving behind a world which had almost become home...a good home. In fact, I had the chance of making this world a proper home but I denied it for reasons known to me and perhaps to the unhappiness of my friends at the Isle. The numbness stayed with me till the familiar quarters of my home and meeting the people I missed cured it.
Numbness aside, I have returned a happier man from the Isle. The visit to the country was perhaps like a visit to a counsellor. I talked about myself to new people without any inhibition because they showed genuine interest in knowing me. When they asked, ‘Did you sleep well last night?’ you knew from their expression and the tone of voice that they are really interested in knowing about my comfort levels. And, I had just met them. Today, they have become good friends and will always remain so.
I also saw myself going back to reading fiction despite not being in that ‘Holiday State of Mind’…I was in Sri Lanka on work. Perhaps it’s got to do with the ‘Peaceful State of Mind’, which the country gave me. I finished reading ‘No Exit and Other Plays’ by one of my favorites, Sartre. I hadn’t read any of his plays before and I enjoyed them completely.
I may have to go back to the Isle in a while but till then, as I mentioned in the first paragraph, I shall keep going there every now and then between the sips of Ceylon Tea sieved through Chaga’s thoughtful gift.
The photograph above is of the good friends I made at The Emerald Isle. From left to right: Farhan, Thiyagi and Chaga.
5 comments:
and why aren't you in the pic, so I can see what my sibling looks like?
a)because i was taking the photograph
b)the piece was not about me..it was about the place i visited and its people.
c)the idea of this blog also, isn't about me...its about books, movies, music and now travel (as you said)
d) and perhaps to keep my visual identity a secret from my sibling...some thrill. guess its the romantic in me.
cheers!
m
Happy for your happiness.
Wait till you see some of the 15 or so identifiable capital cities, not tot mention dozens of other sub-kingdoms; mammoth irrigation works that equal today's state-of-the-art; nature reserves and wilderness; changes of clime and eco systems within half an hour to each other from any point; millennia-old purity that still persists among folk in much of the countryside.
Will find an excuse fast. Keep a backpack ready!
Even your shadow parts you in the night, but never do you go from our thoughts, Meraj!
Believe me, a well of sadness drowned my senses upon your departure and beckoned me to try my hand at this piece of poetry.
Oh, bitter sorrow!
oh how unspeakble, the sorrow that
shivers within my breast;
That chokes with passion my anguished cry
and stings my eyes to tears.
Its like the broken wailing of the wind among grave stones
That deep in wells of dreadful distress mourms,
So unsham'dly at its solitude
Free me from thy knots of misery oh sorrow
And shake from me thy bitter briars loose
And like the cactus which thorny spikes entangle
choke thyself upon thy grief and strangle
See you soon my friend.
Chaga,
my backpack is ready
Farhan,
this is very moving and beautiful piece of writing...
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