Bombs frighten me. I may be miles away from them, but they always do. It's scary. It's scary when I think of all those people, some still lying in beds, unable to move, although their wounds maybe over a year old. Yes, I know people like that.
Anyway, we don't often hear of them exploding bombs in the South, but it has happened a few times. It was only in November that they fired at a bus along the Buttala - Kataragama main road. And this time they targetted a Muslim celebration attended by quite a number of Big Bellies.
Well, some actually went to the extent of questioning if today's attack was indeed carried out by the LTTE (Daily Mirror comments). Anyway, that's beside the point.
If this attack showed us one thing, among many others, it is this. The bad guys, in this case, the terrorists, spare no one. OK, fine, old news so. But, we've got something to learn here.
They don't discriminate when they shoot. But, what about us?
They will shoot anyone who gets in their way. They will shoot anyone just to make a point. They don't care if they are killing Sinhalese, Muslims or Tamils for that matter. They don't care if it's a political gathering or religious ceremony or both.
Will we fight for everyone? Will we treat everyone equally, not discriminate them?
Some do. Others don't.
And just like they wouldn't leave out anyone when they shoot, it's time we don't leave out anyone when working towards peace.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Saturday, February 14, 2009
If we go back to another stone age
Papare Boy in his post Paranoia says how we are well on our way to another stone age.
What happens if we do go back to another stone age?
Well, at least one thing is certain - that will be our chance to start afresh, from the beginning, build this world again.. This, of course is presuming we remember our past mistakes and have learnt from them.
Anyway, if we do go back to another stone age I do hope Alexander comes all the way to Sri Lanka instead of stopping at India. The Greeks are lovely people. There would be a Sri Lanka, I believe.
Also, if we happen to go back to another stone age, hopefully peace, equality and freedom will be more than mere words in policies and documents.
But, seriously, IF we go back to another stone age, will much change? Or will the cycle continue?
What happens if we do go back to another stone age?
Well, at least one thing is certain - that will be our chance to start afresh, from the beginning, build this world again.. This, of course is presuming we remember our past mistakes and have learnt from them.
Anyway, if we do go back to another stone age I do hope Alexander comes all the way to Sri Lanka instead of stopping at India. The Greeks are lovely people. There would be a Sri Lanka, I believe.
Also, if we happen to go back to another stone age, hopefully peace, equality and freedom will be more than mere words in policies and documents.
But, seriously, IF we go back to another stone age, will much change? Or will the cycle continue?
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
I want to screeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaam. I want to scream because life is soooo hard and annoying and full of disappointments.
But who will hear me if I scream? Oh well, they might hear me if I scream. It's pretty hard to not hear someone scream, unless of course, you are deaf (fortunately or unfortunately), or happen to live five million miles away. Or better still, you pretend not to hear me scream for whatever reason.
Say they hear me scream. Will they do anything about it? Well, that's very unlikely. After all, people are very busy. They don't have time for me. Or, my scream will be 'just another scream', you know, ordinary, typical, undeserving. It might also be convenient for them to not do anything about the scream, coz it takes time and effort to actually analyze the scream and provide a suitable answer.
So, my screaming wouldn't be of any use. It would just be a waste of my precious voice. Just like this is a waste of space? Hmmm.
But who will hear me if I scream? Oh well, they might hear me if I scream. It's pretty hard to not hear someone scream, unless of course, you are deaf (fortunately or unfortunately), or happen to live five million miles away. Or better still, you pretend not to hear me scream for whatever reason.
Say they hear me scream. Will they do anything about it? Well, that's very unlikely. After all, people are very busy. They don't have time for me. Or, my scream will be 'just another scream', you know, ordinary, typical, undeserving. It might also be convenient for them to not do anything about the scream, coz it takes time and effort to actually analyze the scream and provide a suitable answer.
So, my screaming wouldn't be of any use. It would just be a waste of my precious voice. Just like this is a waste of space? Hmmm.
Friday, February 6, 2009
Born before 1986?
Recently I came across this email. It’s about how kids born in the 1960’s, 70’s and the early 80’s (like me) survived without today's 'luxuries' ' - internet and mobile phone, among them :P
Here’s one particular bit from that email. (I believe they are things some of us could relate to. Also, I’ve kept mainly to the ‘technological developments’).
- We did not have Play stations or X-Boxes, no video games, no 99 channels on TV, no surround sound, no mobile phones, no personal computers, no DVDs, no Internet chatrooms
And on whether or not we’re getting old, they had this to say –
- You are always surprised to see small children playing comfortably with computers – They can probably never imagine life before computers.
- When you see children play with mobile phones you shake your head – they will never understand how we could leave the house without a mobile phone. If I may add here, I also shake my head when 10 year olds carry fancy handbags. Ha. What do they have in there? Some fancy make-up set? I must ask.
While I was reading this, I remembers how last week this kid (meaning, still at school person) told me, by attending a particular student camp or something, he learnt to do presentations using flip charts and cardboards. Earlier he’s been doing presentations on using a laptop or projector. Oh, this kid was about 12. Nowwww, I was thinking when I was in school, which was not so long ago, I’ll like to add (No, I don’t consider myself old, I’m not even 25), I used cardboard for my presentations or just delivered them orally. Man, these kids are modern and advanced.
Oh, on the mobile phone bit, no I didn’t have a mobile when I was a kid. I got a mobile – a gadol bage at that - when I was about 17. HAHA. Yes, it was pretty huge.
With all these developments I guess we're becoming more global. I'm glad. I like them. They are fun and 'developed'. The world is also shrinking. But I think it’s shrinking on the wrong side – shrinking in values, while expanding in violence, crime, poverty and disease.
And this is when I can’t help thinking, for all these developments, are we free?
Here’s one particular bit from that email. (I believe they are things some of us could relate to. Also, I’ve kept mainly to the ‘technological developments’).
- We did not have Play stations or X-Boxes, no video games, no 99 channels on TV, no surround sound, no mobile phones, no personal computers, no DVDs, no Internet chatrooms
And on whether or not we’re getting old, they had this to say –
- You are always surprised to see small children playing comfortably with computers – They can probably never imagine life before computers.
- When you see children play with mobile phones you shake your head – they will never understand how we could leave the house without a mobile phone. If I may add here, I also shake my head when 10 year olds carry fancy handbags. Ha. What do they have in there? Some fancy make-up set? I must ask.
While I was reading this, I remembers how last week this kid (meaning, still at school person) told me, by attending a particular student camp or something, he learnt to do presentations using flip charts and cardboards. Earlier he’s been doing presentations on using a laptop or projector. Oh, this kid was about 12. Nowwww, I was thinking when I was in school, which was not so long ago, I’ll like to add (No, I don’t consider myself old, I’m not even 25), I used cardboard for my presentations or just delivered them orally. Man, these kids are modern and advanced.
Oh, on the mobile phone bit, no I didn’t have a mobile when I was a kid. I got a mobile – a gadol bage at that - when I was about 17. HAHA. Yes, it was pretty huge.
With all these developments I guess we're becoming more global. I'm glad. I like them. They are fun and 'developed'. The world is also shrinking. But I think it’s shrinking on the wrong side – shrinking in values, while expanding in violence, crime, poverty and disease.
And this is when I can’t help thinking, for all these developments, are we free?
Thursday, February 5, 2009
The significance of the title
I quite liked A Thousand Splendid Suns. Infact, in the post below I wrote about some bits I found interesting. But, I'm still very confused about the title. I don't quite understand the real meaning/significance of it.
Now, it's mentioned a couple of times. Once when Laila thinks of returning to Kabul. This is when she remembers two lines from a poem -
"One could not count the moons that shimmer on her roofs,
Or the thousand splendid suns that hide behind the wells".
I was going through a translated version of that poem on wikipedia earlier, and the poem was talking about the beauty and brightness of Kabul.
Later on the phrase is repeated when Laila thinks of Mariam. The line goes, "But mostly, Mariam is in Laila's own heart, where she shines with the bursting radiance of a thousand suns".
Does it signify the idea that amidst all this hopelessness, suffering and fear is hope, happiness and love? Like the bright side of things, the things we can become?
Now, it's mentioned a couple of times. Once when Laila thinks of returning to Kabul. This is when she remembers two lines from a poem -
"One could not count the moons that shimmer on her roofs,
Or the thousand splendid suns that hide behind the wells".
I was going through a translated version of that poem on wikipedia earlier, and the poem was talking about the beauty and brightness of Kabul.
Later on the phrase is repeated when Laila thinks of Mariam. The line goes, "But mostly, Mariam is in Laila's own heart, where she shines with the bursting radiance of a thousand suns".
Does it signify the idea that amidst all this hopelessness, suffering and fear is hope, happiness and love? Like the bright side of things, the things we can become?
"A Thousand Splendid Suns" - what I thought of it
“Mariam was five years old the first time she heard the word harami”.
And in those opening lines Khaled Hosseini seems to tell us the whole story of A Thousand Splendid Suns, the tale of two Afghan women, different upbringings, yet bound by the same fate – being a woman.
Harami, meaning an illegitimate child, determines not just Mariam’s life but also her story, their story, our story – the story of the women bearing, without question, the duty bestowed on them. I used the term ‘our story’, not because I am like them, but because it gives us the message, a message we have to act upon, to grab, to not let go. It gives a message of suffering, of endurance, also of love, forbidden love and pleading. Above all, it also tells us of a rigid system from which you cannot escape.
Here are a few bits from the story that I thought were interesting.
Legitimacy vs. illegitimacy
- As Mariam walked the final twenty paces, she ponders how “this was a legitimate end to a life of illegitimate beginnings”.
And what does she consider as legitimate – love, motherhood, friendship, being a person of consequence. The very things she longed for all her life. The very things she was told she would never have, the very things she was snatched away of, by that one action of hunger, of rejection and of a system that allows this for one, but refuses for another.
The extract which leads to the above “…She thought of her entry into this world, the harami child of a lowly villager, an unintended thing, a pitiable, regrettable accident. A weed. And yet she was leaving the world as a woman who had loved and been loved back. She was leaving it as a friend, a companion, a guardian. A mother, a person of consequence at last. No. It was not so bad, Mariam thought, that she could die this way…”
They are strong words – legitimate, illegitimate. Think of it this way. One is lawful, right, acceptable, while the other is a crime, dishonour. Was Mariam a criminal? Or was Mariam just the consequence of a crime? But she had to pay the price. She was deemed the criminal, much like Frankenstein’s monster, created out of hunger of a different kind, but abundant, un-loved and rejected. The real criminal, once again, lived and in this not without guilt.
Jalil’s letter and the pleas of a suffering man
Jalil suffered in his own quiet way. And through him we see the other side of the Afghan men (well, some Afghan men) who again are mere pawns in this system.
Was he to blame? Was he a bad guy? Initially I considered him a bad guy. An evil one at that, who had no care for what he had done, the pain he had caused. His rejection of Mariam, his inability to show the world the love he showed her in her Kolba in the same genuine manner, his shame, that day he peered through the curtain while she was outside begging for him, made me loose all respect for me. But the more I read the story, I felt sorry for him. Yes, I felt sorry, I pitied him.
His letter was one of struggling man. Here he was pleading, begging for forgiveness. In it we saw what the system did not just to the women, but also to the men of Afghanistan. We saw the price he had to pay for honour, for name. And he realizes it too when he says, “…I regret that I did not make you a daughter to me, that I let you live in that place for all those years. And for what? Fear of loosing face? Of staining my so-called good name? How little those things matter to me now, after all the loss…”. But, as he says, “But now of course, it is too late”.
Again we see him echo those ‘legitimate’ bits. He understand, yet he cannot help. Is he a spineless man, weak? (He does call himself a ‘weak man’). Is he forbidden to love, to show love for this illegitimate being? Can we blame him for loving Mariam? Can we blame him for discarding her?
We cannot. Well, I cannot. But, can we forgive him? At the moment - No. I pity him, but not entirely forgiven.
Tariq and Laila’s father
In them we see a different kind of Afghan men, different to the Taliban, different to Rasheed, whom we might refer to as ‘typical’. In them we see the true meaning of love and sincerity.
The world’s categories, the unmoving brick walls
After Laila ‘saved’ Mariam of Rasheed’s belt, “And in this fleeting, wordless exchange with Mariam, Laila knew that they were not enemies any longer”.
Women are rarely free to express their views, especially in this case. They have no say, they have no control. Their lives, instead are determined by various causes – mainly background, which, as Laila’s father says,
“To me, its nonsense – and very dangerous nonsense at that – all this talk of Tajik and you’re Pashtun and he’s Hazara and she’s Uzbek. We’re all Afghan, and that’s all that should matter”.
Many have spoken on this. Many have died for this. But, that fact remains. This, and add to it all those other categories – black, white, Asian, African, American, Gay, Lesbian, Man, Woman, Christians, Jews, Muslims etc, - remains the cause of conflict, of fear, of insecurity. For all the advancements, this remains the biggest threat to all of humanity.
These are just a few ideas that came to my mind after reading the book. I’ll keep you updated.
Quotes from -
Hosseini, Khaled. A Thousand Splendid Suns (Bloomsbury Publishing Plc: London, 2008)
And in those opening lines Khaled Hosseini seems to tell us the whole story of A Thousand Splendid Suns, the tale of two Afghan women, different upbringings, yet bound by the same fate – being a woman.
Harami, meaning an illegitimate child, determines not just Mariam’s life but also her story, their story, our story – the story of the women bearing, without question, the duty bestowed on them. I used the term ‘our story’, not because I am like them, but because it gives us the message, a message we have to act upon, to grab, to not let go. It gives a message of suffering, of endurance, also of love, forbidden love and pleading. Above all, it also tells us of a rigid system from which you cannot escape.
Here are a few bits from the story that I thought were interesting.
Legitimacy vs. illegitimacy
- As Mariam walked the final twenty paces, she ponders how “this was a legitimate end to a life of illegitimate beginnings”.
And what does she consider as legitimate – love, motherhood, friendship, being a person of consequence. The very things she longed for all her life. The very things she was told she would never have, the very things she was snatched away of, by that one action of hunger, of rejection and of a system that allows this for one, but refuses for another.
The extract which leads to the above “…She thought of her entry into this world, the harami child of a lowly villager, an unintended thing, a pitiable, regrettable accident. A weed. And yet she was leaving the world as a woman who had loved and been loved back. She was leaving it as a friend, a companion, a guardian. A mother, a person of consequence at last. No. It was not so bad, Mariam thought, that she could die this way…”
They are strong words – legitimate, illegitimate. Think of it this way. One is lawful, right, acceptable, while the other is a crime, dishonour. Was Mariam a criminal? Or was Mariam just the consequence of a crime? But she had to pay the price. She was deemed the criminal, much like Frankenstein’s monster, created out of hunger of a different kind, but abundant, un-loved and rejected. The real criminal, once again, lived and in this not without guilt.
Jalil’s letter and the pleas of a suffering man
Jalil suffered in his own quiet way. And through him we see the other side of the Afghan men (well, some Afghan men) who again are mere pawns in this system.
Was he to blame? Was he a bad guy? Initially I considered him a bad guy. An evil one at that, who had no care for what he had done, the pain he had caused. His rejection of Mariam, his inability to show the world the love he showed her in her Kolba in the same genuine manner, his shame, that day he peered through the curtain while she was outside begging for him, made me loose all respect for me. But the more I read the story, I felt sorry for him. Yes, I felt sorry, I pitied him.
His letter was one of struggling man. Here he was pleading, begging for forgiveness. In it we saw what the system did not just to the women, but also to the men of Afghanistan. We saw the price he had to pay for honour, for name. And he realizes it too when he says, “…I regret that I did not make you a daughter to me, that I let you live in that place for all those years. And for what? Fear of loosing face? Of staining my so-called good name? How little those things matter to me now, after all the loss…”. But, as he says, “But now of course, it is too late”.
Again we see him echo those ‘legitimate’ bits. He understand, yet he cannot help. Is he a spineless man, weak? (He does call himself a ‘weak man’). Is he forbidden to love, to show love for this illegitimate being? Can we blame him for loving Mariam? Can we blame him for discarding her?
We cannot. Well, I cannot. But, can we forgive him? At the moment - No. I pity him, but not entirely forgiven.
Tariq and Laila’s father
In them we see a different kind of Afghan men, different to the Taliban, different to Rasheed, whom we might refer to as ‘typical’. In them we see the true meaning of love and sincerity.
The world’s categories, the unmoving brick walls
After Laila ‘saved’ Mariam of Rasheed’s belt, “And in this fleeting, wordless exchange with Mariam, Laila knew that they were not enemies any longer”.
Women are rarely free to express their views, especially in this case. They have no say, they have no control. Their lives, instead are determined by various causes – mainly background, which, as Laila’s father says,
“To me, its nonsense – and very dangerous nonsense at that – all this talk of Tajik and you’re Pashtun and he’s Hazara and she’s Uzbek. We’re all Afghan, and that’s all that should matter”.
Many have spoken on this. Many have died for this. But, that fact remains. This, and add to it all those other categories – black, white, Asian, African, American, Gay, Lesbian, Man, Woman, Christians, Jews, Muslims etc, - remains the cause of conflict, of fear, of insecurity. For all the advancements, this remains the biggest threat to all of humanity.
These are just a few ideas that came to my mind after reading the book. I’ll keep you updated.
Quotes from -
Hosseini, Khaled. A Thousand Splendid Suns (Bloomsbury Publishing Plc: London, 2008)
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Lost Karala
I often feel lost and lonely. Isolated. Ignored. I feel my body has no use. No freedom. Just like a lifeless miris karala chopped away and stired in some boiling pot just to make someone else's meal more delicious and tasty. I feel I have no say in anything. When I'm with others I feel stronger, but weaker too. At the same time. Strange I know. Strong, coz I have them to spend my time with, strong coz I have them to depend on. But weak coz I depend on them, weak coz I know they wouldn't be there for me forever.
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