Posted in Australian Politics, Daily post, Sri Lankan Politics, True Story, Inspirational, Word prompt

My Uncle, My Surrogate Dad

frail skantha

It’s now four years since we said goodbye to my uncle.  Just recently we had a prayer, remembrance and a family dinner filled with many chuckles on his behalf.

I like to share something I wrote for this day.

I wanted to utter these words at his funeral, but I didn’t.  Is it because I was overcome by sorrow?  Is it because I felt that I was saying goodbye to my father all over again?  Is it simply because, I didn’t think my words would be good enough? Or is it because I knew I should have told him these words when he was alive?  I guess it was all of the above. 

For whatever its worth, I need to say them now.  Today is a good day as any other. 

I will start with the funeral.  I was filled with much sorrow as well as guilt.  Periyya (uncle in Tamil) passed away the day I returned from Singapore.  When Ganesh picked me up from the airport, he said, “your Periyya is not well, we will go and see him once you have a bit of a rest”.  I didn’t think it was that serious.  I thought here we go again; the Old man is pulling another one.  He waited till I got back from Singapore, but it wasn’t that important for him to say goodbye to me in person.  He passed away that afternoon. 

I felt guilty that I didn’t go straight from the airport to see him, I felt guilty that I took that nap.  I felt guilty that I didn’t go to see him more often.  More than anything I felt guilty that, I never told him that he meant so much to me than he will ever know. 

As each eulogy was being read, I was reciting my own in my head. Deja vo, why am I saying goodbye to my dad again?

It’s taken me nearly four years to make peace with myself and get the courage to speak up.  Knowing my Periyayya, he would have been utterly chuffed with any word that I had grouped together.  The card that he sent me for the first Depavali after my dad’s passing, just signed “Periya (appa)” two words, that’s all.  He didn’t need to quote me Shakespeare or Nietzsche, it told me in abundance that, he loved me, he missed my dad, he wishes my dad didn’t die, and more than anything he has got my back. 

I am not sure if I totally believe in the possibility of spirits, souls and after life.  But, I take comfort in the possibility of Rasam and Skantha having a chuckle, and keeping watch from up there.  Or it could be down there.  There are more magnets down there than up there. Who knows.  

I am not sure if it was fate or a just a mere coincidence that the two families in tandem decided to move to Adelaide.  But it feels as if, it was the grand plan of the man up there.  Whoever, or whatever the reason for the reunion, I am truly grateful. 

I got a chance to spend quality years with this larger than life personality.  More than anything, my kids got to enjoy a surrogate grandfather. 

I like to wrap up now but with a special request for a visual.  Can you just imagine if he had the farm in Australia and the two monkeys?  We would have ended up with monkeys named Barnaby and Joyce. 

Here’s to my Periyayya.  To a man who was the biggest pain in the Ass and but had the biggest heart as well. 

I will give you a little bit of a background into who this man was so you understand some of the references.

I was very fond of this man, who was a larger than life personality. He was dad’s older brother.  In a family of extreme academics, he was not one of them.  He was probably dyslexic or suffered from a learning difficulty.  But nothing was diagnosed in those days. Just considered as a problem child by the teachers and maybe even by the parents at times. Still he achieved a lot more than any academics in the family.

He joined the Agriculture Department and was rising through the ranks as he was coming up with novel ideas to solve the problems of the region.  Also he was a stubborn pain in the ass to all who didn’t have a vision.  He didn’t mince words when he had to say something. Once after a heated discussion with the then Minister for Agriculture he came home and named two of his monkey after the Minister.  At a later date when the said minister and his yes men visited his Farm, he introduced the monkeys to the group, without skipping a beat.

He was also big on yoga and magnet therapy.  He used to carry a big block of magnet in a back pack.  Once leaving a restaurant, he walked away with a good number of cutlery.

My dad was the youngest of eight kids.  But unfortunately he was the first to depart at the young age of Fifty Three.  The day after the funeral my uncle sat me down and explained a tamil word. “Periya appa” means Big uncle.  “Periya” means Big “appa” means Dad .  He said just remember that and he left back to his farm.  For the outside world he comes across as this rough and tough guy.  But in reality, he was the biggest mush.

In his latter days it was really hard to see him so frail and reduced to a small child.  Even then you would witness his personality pop up time to time.

Rest in Peace big man.

 

Daily Post Word prompt

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/frail/

Posted in Daily post, Word prompt

It was 1966…

cindy. jpg
Cindy Crawford

Cindy was born in February of 1966.  About the same time the Sivapalan’s were awaiting nervously for their bundle to be born in June.  If everything goes to plan this would be their first born.  But, nothing has gone to plan so far.

Mum had a few miscarriages before me, It looked like she had passed the danger period this time.  All the prayers and vows at different temples and Churches seems to be aligning and working together. But, it was still early days to open that Champagne bottle.

Finally the day arrives.  Sun was shining.  Well, I don’t really know if the sun was shining, this is Colombo Sri Lanka, unless it was raining, sun is always shining or more like burning.  But, it sounds much better when you say, Sun was shining.  Well, to tell the truth, it was probably humid, it’s always humid in Sri Lanka.

So let me start again, most likely the sun was shining and the air was filled with a musty smell, the smell that you get when it’s a hot and humid day in an overcrowded bus.  Most likely there was no air conditioner, just a ceiling fan, barely moving.  Well, things were worse of for Jesus, so no complains here.

Finally the star was born.

The entire family/clan was waiting for this day.  Grand parents from both sides were thrilled to the core.  Not sure why my paternal grandparents were excited. They already had about 34 grand kids, and about 10 great grand kids.  But, I guess they were excited for mum and dad.  They knew of the anguish and pain they had gone through so far.  For my maternal grand parents, this was their first grand child.

Mum, was blood type RH o negative.  This is usually a problem in pregnancy, if the child she conceives is of RH o positive which then causes an RH incompatibility.  Usually the first pregnancy should be okay, but then in the following pregnancies things can go way wrong. These days there is Anti – D injection, which is administered after the first child is born.  But in my mothers time there was no such thing.  Not sure, why she miscarried in her first pregnancy, but it followed a few others.  And really not sure how she managed to carry me full term ( I am RH O positive).

To my parents I was a miracle.  For my dad I was the extra star that was twinkling in the sky, for my mum I was the extra spice needed for her curry, Curry?? well that doesn’t sound that poetic does it? Okay let’s say “extra spice needed for the world”.

The whole family/the clan was involved in naming this precious child.  Dad asked everyone to contribute suggestions. Main request was “it had to be a small name”.  Sri Lankan’s liked to name things a mile long and then shorten the name or call them by a completely different name.  It would be like naming someone Edward Anthony Brown and then call them Paul.  Well, that’s not even a good example.  White names are not long enough.  Okay my Dad’s name was Sivapalan.  We love the vowels, when in doubt just add a another vowel. His friends and work colleagues called him Siva, which is fine, the first four letters of his name, But the family called him Rasam.  His twin brother’s name is Ramachandran  – and the family called him Nesam.  Do you see a pattern here.  No, there is no pattern, just random names.  Hence, my dad’s decision to  give me a small name.  Uma is the Hindu goddess of the earth.  Apparently he called out each name ” Uma, Uma darling come here”, “Shanthi can you bring me a cup of tea darling” ” Usha, Usha”  etc. So there you go, that’s how I ended up with the smallest Sri Lankan name.

Eighth of June 1966 …

According google on this exact day and year a tornado kills 16 people in Kansas.  Two years later on the exact day James Earl Ray was arrested for the assassination of Martin Luther King.  I am looking through the rest of the statistics and information on things that happened on that day (mostly useless).

8 June 1995 -The first version of the programming language PHP is released (yep we’ve all heard of that one, probably the first and the last)

8 June 1984 – Ghostbusters (1984) is released in cinemas.

If you think the above are really useless pieces of information, well, the rest were even worse.

So, it looks like other than Moi’s great presence to this world, nothing special happened on that day.

Journey begins for mum and dad with their bundle of Joy.  First time parents.  She was so beautiful, she was everything and more they wished for.  She was their pride, She was their joy and she was everything.

I didn’t really understand how serious this journey would be, until the time came for me to have similar fears and hopes.  I went to hell and back to have my two bundles. My fears, turned to hope and finally the glimmer of hope became a reality, not once but twice for me.  I don’t know why he answered my prayers and not the others. I don’t even know if it was the prayers or just was meant to be.  I don’t know if there is a lesson in this.  All I know is that I am great full for this journey.

(don’t quote me on the medical information as I am not a doctor, just things that I have read and heard from other doctors)

Sorry for tricking you into thinking that you were going to read about Cindy Crawford, but hey, her picture may be more attractive than mine, but my life sure is more interesting than hers.  Well, minus the marriages and fame.

Daily Post – word Prompts – journey

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/a-journey/

Posted in Daily post, Word prompt

Forbidden Love

forbidden love

Since the time of Romeo and Juliet, no even before that, Love was forbidden for one reason or another.

Love was forbidden because of religion, social status, race, color, cast, money or even gender.

Love should be the most natural thing in life, but Hate seems to take over at most times.

I don’t think we have the right to forbid anyone from love, especially when we know,

what it is to be young and to fall in love.  What it is to be old and still feel the flame.

Just because you can’t get how two people of different religions can make it work…

Just because you can’t get how two people of different skin colors can make it work…

Just because you can’t get how two people, one rich and one dirt poor can make it work…

And

Just because you don’t condone a man in love with a man …

Sorry, we don’t have the right to forbid love

 

Ps

But I certainly hope the girls my boys bring don’t have tattoos and piercings.  Ugghh… I hope I don’t have to eat my words.

 

 

Daily post – Forbidden

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/forbidden/

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in Australian Politics, Daily post, Sri Lankan Politics, True Story, Inspirational

My Island Paradise

Sri-Lanka (3)

The pearl of the Indian Ocean, once the envy of the east, now torn and battered, gasping, clutching at the last straws to survive another day.  Is it the end of the civil war or just cease fire for another eruption, for another day for another cause?

A lot has happened since the start of the civil war, loss of my friend and then my departure to Australia.  Before I go any further I like to dedicate this story/writing/rant to my late friend Lalith Gunesinghe.  This is not all about Lalith.  But Lalith’s passing was the main reason for me to analyse what happened, what went wrong in my place of paradise.

I have no illusions of changing the mindset of the Sri Lankan’s, but I do hope that I make at least an iota of difference in someone’s thinking, especially of those from Australia, or at least amongst the young generation to make them think, make them aware of what actually happens in a war.  More importantly when you hear it on the news, it is just data and that of distorted data, words such as “casualties” are thrown around, just a mere number, their names are not important, I understand that there are too many of them, but there lies a real person, he is a dad, a son, a brother or even a friend. This person is going to be missed by all, and not just for that moment, but for years and years to come.

My name is Uma Sivapalan. To a Sri Lankan this name would explain that I am a female of Tamil origin and most likely a Hindu. My friend Lalith Gunesinghe was a Sinhalese male.It is, if the name was Mc Donald it is very likely the person is of Scottish decent, likes the bottle with the walking man and has a good command of the“f” word. Lalith’s name doesn’t really stipulate that he was Buddhist, but most likely.  Some of those who converted to Christianity during the English  colonisation  did not change their surnames.  But Lalith was a Budhist from the Kandy region.  Upper Class.  My forefathers came from the North of the country Jaffna.  Again from the right class and stock.

History is usually written by the victor.  But what saddens me most is not that History could be biased.  But, we use history for the wrong reasons.  We should learn from our mistakes, but preserve the good.  We constantly do it in reverse.

Sri Lanka is a very small Island with a big population. Most of us are not even Christians, but we believed in “go forth and multiply”.  It is made up of Sinhalese (majority), Tamils, Muslims and Burghers. Languages spoken are Sinhala, Tamil and English.  Not sure why we did not adapt Portuguese and Dutch. We took their surnames and cooking but not their languages. Thank god we didn’t look to the English for cooking tips.  We stopped at sipping the tea.  We copied a bit of the singing and dancing from the Portuguese as well.   Budhism and Hinduism came from India.  With the invasions of the west, some of us converted to Christianity.  Islam came from the Arab traders.

I think what baffles most of the westerners who have visited the island is that, if you take the individual Sri Lankan, he is a very peaceful and lovable person. They are renowned for their generosity and friendship, how can such a lot then be involved in a terrible war, where they killed their own. Yes, we killed our own. Yes, you can separate them as per their language/dialect they speak.  But, we are really the same.  Some Tamils, who are now residing in different countries, have taken a stance to say that theyare not Sri Lankan’s.  I understand their reasons, but finding it hard to condone it fully.

We look the same, brown skin, black hair, dark eyes etc. Act the same way when someone asks you “are you from India?”. I am still to witness a Sri Lankan, who takes more than two seconds to say, “NO I AM FROM SRI LANKA ”.  We respond as if we’ve been called  a pariah. In this we become SriLankans.  It may be a tiny isle, but it has its own identity, New Zealand is not Australia.

As a Tamil, I understand why some of the Tamils have disowned their birth place.  I sometimes wonder if I am a Sri Lankan or an Australian.  Am I being unfaithful to Australia, when I secretly wish Sri lanka doesn’t lose badly in the cricket?  Am I being unfaithful to Sri Lanka when I support Australia over my birth place? For some Aussies they can’t understand why I don’t support Sri Lanka, for some others it definitely has to be Australia, I have adopted this country that means I should support everything Australia.  If not I am being unfaithful.  It’s not that easy or simple.  It’s like when you get married, now you have another set of family and an extended family.  Just because you love your husband doesn’t mean you hate your parents or siblings.  The love and affection you have for you’re in laws will depend on each ones experience.  And hence the reason why migration either works or doesn’t work.  The answer is not one size fits all.  It depends on both parties as well.  And if you love or hate your birth place will depend on your individual circumstance.  I will revisit this area again later, why for me I cannot join the collective hate nor love for Sri Lanka.

It is now over 25 years in Australia, most of it spent in Sydney and the last ten years or so in Adelaide.  Altogether I have lived more of my living years in Australia than in Sri Lanka.  Does it make me an Australian or Sri Lankan? Legally yes I am Australian, but within me who do I want to be? More importantly what does the rest of Australia accept me as?

I feel like an adopted child who is extremely happy with her adopted parents.  Have the same anguish and disappointment of my birth parent Sri Lanka.  I did nothing wrong, but she still let me down.  I don’t really care, I am in a good place, in fact I am in a better place, the best place, but it still hurts.

Cont…

The above is a story I am currently in the process of writing.  I was not going to publish this until I completely finish it and analyse it, as I have a feeling I am going to annoy a lot Tamils as well as Sinhalese with I say and reveal.

The reason for me to publish some of it today is because My New Island Paradise Australia is showing signs of falling pray to racism.  I am really upset and annoyed.  Every time a foreign celebrity, accuses Australia of being racist, I keep defending and say “Nah” they are just open about what they say, absolutely amazing people.  Just a small minority is spoiling it for everyone.

I am posting my story because I want you numb nuts to know that there is nothing amazing about going to war.  Not within your own country.  You may not know it, but this is just a paradise.  Please don’t spoil it because your kids wants Kung Pao Chicken for dinner and not your pot roast.

A vote for Pauline Hanson is a vote for racism.  Come on guys we can do better than that.  I am not saying we don’t have issues with refugees and migration. But we need to address them in a democratic way.

Imagine if your child is born being hated.  Where do you think he will end up.  That’s exactly where you are sending the Muslim kids to.  Straight to ISIL.  In my view anyone who engages in hate speech/rally is also a Terrorist.  Well, if you see a bunch of Muslims gathered and say bad things about Christians what would you call them?

I am skeptical about churches and priests after, what I’ve heard of the horrors that happened behind certain doors.  Yes, I am angry with all the churches and priests.  As in my mind even if you didn’t commit the crime, you allowed it to go on, so you are guilty too.  You don’t want to know what I think of Cardinal Pell.  But do I then go on to hate my neighbor who is a Catholic too?

The question of whether Islam is a religion of Peace or not is another ludicrous argument.  All religions are meant to be peaceful, But every religion or it’s followers manage to make it as vile as possible.  Every religion, at one time or another has been the cause of some misery.  Because religion is in the hands of the man, he will twist it and turn it to suit him. Let’s stop blaming religions and blame the actual culprits.  Let’s stop generalizing  a whole group of people and address the individuals who commit the crime.

I think I have vented enough.  World Peace seems far away.  But, ever the optimist, will sign of demanding for one.

Daily post word prompt: Island

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/island/

Posted in Australian Politics, Daily post, Word prompt

Remember it’s water not oil to calm the Burning Fire

bushfire

Tree by tree the flame takes over

The shrub tries to reason, but scorched away.

Smallest little ember now spreading at a rate of thousand trees a day.

Despair and misery,

All a common scene every summers day.

 

Blame and anger fills the town

Is it Arson or it just the horror of nature

Is it back burning gone wrong or the “Greens” non action

 

As a nation we all pull together

We look for answers but never forget the suffering

Even the Koala gets a drink

bushfire-koala

As a nation we mourn together

It’s water not oil to calm the burning fire

 

My fellow Australians

Leave racism to the Yanks and the Brits

Remember it’s water not oil to calm the Burning Fire

 

Daily Post word – Burn

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/burn/

 

 

 

Posted in Daily post, Word prompt

Can I lick the wooden spoon?

cake bowl licking

It’s a right of passage, every mothers duty

To hand down that wooden spoon,

Down the generation it goes, life’s simplest of pleasures

A tradition, a culture followed from Canada to Calcutta

 

When do we grow up, wanting more?

When does, can I? become want and want becomes need?

When does need becomes more than I need?

A tradition, a culture spreading from North to the South

 

Life’s simplest of pleasures,

That’s all I want.

 

Daily post word : Pleasure

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/pleasure/

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in Australian Politics, True Story, Inspirational, Word prompt

A Tourist- On Your Own Land

tourist sl

We returned to Sri Lanka after nearly 16 years since coming to Australia.  The boys born here in Aus.  Other than a brown skin, there was not much Sri Lankan in them.

This was not due to any conscious planning on our part to disassociate with our culture.  We had no issues with our heritage, nor did the boys.  They knew of our food, and enjoyed many of the delicacies, but so did the rest of Australia.  In fact many of the Aussies could handle a fair bit of the burning Chilly.  Where as my boys, especially my eldest struggled with even a hint of it.  Once again before I get judged for not ramming down the chilly,down my kids throat, was simply because he struggled with it.

I have many theories or may be just two, one of them being that I suffered severely with re flux when I was pregnant with him, so I avoided the chilly and then again when I was breast feeding,  and voila he has no tolerance to the gun powder.  The second reason being he doesn’t really like it.  Which is okay.  My husband doesn’t like sweets, and no one says no he needs to learn to eat everything.

The other major hurdle when we returned to the mother land was that the kids didn’t speak the language.  It’s not really a major hurdle as most speak very fluent English as we were once an English Colony.  Even before our migration to Australia, hubby and I mostly spoke in English.  That was common practice by many.  However, you are meant to know your mother tongue.  Either Sinhalese or Tamil.  We were Tamils, so we should have sent them to Tamil School (which is held on the weekends) and made them speak Tamil.  Even if it meant that they spoke it like a Russian speaking Mandarin.

Again no major reason for them not knowing our language. Simply we had bigger issues to worry about and this took 2nd place or unfortunately no place.

The reason why the 16 year absence from the mother land was due to these bigger issues. Our youngest since the age of two, preferred regular visits to the Hospital. Due to two bouts of Pneumonia, his lungs were scarred and needed surgeries. Our Eldest around the same time not wanting to lose his place in the special considerations, lost his hearing.  I was running between two different hospitals.

It took years before the youngest was fit enough to even attend a birthday party. My eldest eventually got 80% percent of his hearing back.   Their early years were very challenging due to their ill health, our mortgage, and both parents working full time.  So, sorry, but teaching them Tamil was not a priority.  We were surviving each day at a time.

We finally made the long awaited trip to Sri Lanka after 16 years (nearly not exactly sure, but it was after a loong time).  This was extremely important to us, this was the first time they are going to meet my father – in -law, their only living grandfather.  It was time for them to see where we grew up, our schools, our extended families and friends.

It was all that when we got there.  They had a wonderful time there.  So, did we.  But they stood out like a clown at a funeral.  No one understood their accent. And even when we ordered a burger from KFC, thinking this would be safe without the chilly, no we were wrong, every bit of chicken was already coated in chilly.

It was a great adventure that they will never forget. But the two young brown skinned tourists were rather happy to come back home.

 

Daily post word – Tourist

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/tourist/

 

 

 

Posted in Daily post, Word prompt

Be Like The Gum Tree …

gum

I feel like I am walking alone on this narrow road today. Not just today but for sometime now.  My heart feels heavy.

The gorgeous gum trees still adorn my street.  I love how each tree looks so different. It’s a tree that truly represents an “Aussie”.  No branches heading the same way, no real shape or size to define an Aussie Gum Tree.  It’s an individual.  They have so much sole I am almost inclined to refer to them as a he or she.  Look at the one of the left, got to be a Sheila, she’s done something to her hair.  One on the right, yep, you guessed it, that’s Alf from Home and Away.  He’s chased the flaming Galahs.

Every day, when I am driving, when I am walking, I watch these gorgeous trees. Nature gives you in abundance, beauty and lessons.  If Sheila was to be Fatima and Alf was Abdul would it matter.  Would the landscape change then?

I was looking at the earlier posts on Deprive.  And came across one (I am not going to re-post as I don’t  want to spread hate) Where the writer says not to deprive yourself of watching that video, The video is about how Islam is meant to be a Religion of peace but… you know the type.

I don’t like being preached nor do I like to preach.  But, my heart feels heavy, so I am going to humbly ask you not to deprive yourself of experiences, because of your prejudices and of your close mindedness.  Open your heart, before you open the hate.

There is so much beauty and good in this world.  I refuse to only look at the bad.  I am not blind to the bad, but I refuse to paint everything bad.  I feel alone.  But, I refuse to HATE.

Be like the Gum Tree, accept beauty in it’s difference.

 

Make friends with an American and a Russian

I did, I have American friends (some who love guns, I’m still working on them) and I work with a Russian.  Both amazing people.  Not one of them turned out to be like Putin or Trump.

Travel to Japan and the Netherlands.

I did go to Japan and fall in love with the place, Netherlands is going on the list.  I hate the fact that Japanese kill the whales but not everything has to go my way.

Invite a Muslim and an Italian Home.

Why stop there, invite the Australian, English, Greek, Polish, Indian and the rest of the neighborhood.  I’ve done that too, and what a feast we had.

Talk to girl in a Burka and talk to a girl in a Bikini.  

Both will have the same fears and aspirations.  They both fear rape. They both yearn for a man who would shower them with love and respect.

If you are blessed with two legs and two arms, push the wheelchair and say “Hi”

Trust me they will say “Hi” back, they won’t bite.

Embrace a “Gay”, even if your religion says no

It’s your religion that says no, not your god.  Trust me God is not Hate.

Same goes for the Muslims, If you’re a Muslim invite a Jew.

There is no pork in the menu, See, there is always something in common.   There is no God in hatred and vengeance.

The Gum Tree doesn’t give a damn if it were to be called Sheila or Fatima or Alf for Abdul.  It just wants to be left alone, he doesn’t mind the Koala and the  Kookaburra, not even the loud Cockatoo or the dumb Galah.  There is plenty of room for all the quirks in this world.

I don’t walk alone anymore.

Today’s Daily prompt – Deprive https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/deprive/

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in Daily post, True Story, Inspirational, Word prompt

My First Voyage – MV Sri Mathi

dolphins

Daily Post – word prompt – Voyage https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/voyage/

I have  posted some parts of this already (slightly modified) on an earlier blog/post – Life on the Open Sea.  This was a piece I wrote for a book published by a friend my husband.  We all sailed together for sometime a long time ago.  Still the memories and friendship very much in tact.  He is probably the one responsible for me to start writing and the birth of “The Dreaded C Word” https://wordpress.com/post/uma197.wordpress.com/27

Here goes, I hope I take you on a voyage into my past, warning there are no sordid scandals.

My CSC Years as a Supernumerary

My life in CSC started on the 7th June 1987.  When I was asked to contribute for this book of CSC recollections, I thought well mine is going to be the only true story, considering I was the only one sober on board that ship.  There was a lot of drinking and partying on those ships but I have to admit, the ships were still ship shape, and no one shied away from their responsibilities.  This was a place where the individuals took pride in their jobs.  Captain to the Cadet, everyone took their duties seriously.  Work hard and play hard was the motto.

As usual the ship’s ETA was as punctual as a pregnant woman’s due date.  My maiden voyage was looming.  So was my 21st birthday.  I was a young new bride awaiting her 21st and her maiden voyage all at the same time.  We were meant to sail out on the 10th, just a couple of days after my birthday.  Cake was ordered and all set for the big day, my birthday party.

Ships are referred as a “she”, but I think they should be referred as a “pregnant she”, their so called ETA’s are never accurate.  This time was no different.  She came in early. She arrived on the 5th (I think per memory, well it was a couple of days before my birthday).  We finally sailed off on the 7th.  I was excited as well as nervous about the trip.

Ganesh had just returned after completing his Masters exam.  But, there were no vacancies for him to get command.  So he was made the Senior Chief Officer.  So the Senior Chief or (Super Chief as I teased him), went on board with the Supernumerary by his side.  Many eyes on the supernumerary, she was being watched and measured.

I was fascinated by the word Supernumerary.  I was just a number but just that I was a special super number.  Complimented and brought down to earth at the same time.  Things were pretty much the same at the mess table.  There was always a lot of friendly banter.  It was a lot of fun.  Felt like I was back at school, in the boarding.  I soon realised the friendships we were making here was going to be the same.  It was going to be a lifelong affair.

We were heading to the Middle East with Capt. D.J Amera as Master.  Word spread that it was my 21st.  My birthday was celebrated just after we left Aqaba, Jordan.  What a unique way to celebrate one’s 21st.  The chef had made a lovely cake, so just after dinner everyone gathered in the bar, cutting the cake, then followed by a lot of drinking, dancing and singing.  Not the way I imagined my 21st to be.  I wasn’t planning on being married by 21, let alone being married to a sailor and celebrating my 21st on a ship.  This goes to show that you can’t always plan everything in life.  I have no complains about the way my life has turned out, even though it was not what I had planned.

Sea and sea life teaches us the biggest metaphor, “Go with the flow”, yes sometimes, things don’t go the way you plan, but you ride the waves as it comes.  You still plan and get prepared for the next big wave, but when you get hit by that unexpected Seismic Wave, you are still prepared to ride that wave.

Until this trip I really had no idea that I would fall in love with the sea the way I did.  I come from the hills of Sri Lanka.  We have no sea, just rivers and waterfalls, even then it was no big deal for a Water view. So I never gave that much thought to this mass abundance of water – The Sea.  Until I set sail on MV. Sri Mathi.  There was nothing but the vast sea, day after day.  There was something serene and pure about this setting.  I came to love this journey.  This was my life, my home, my family, for the next four years, till we migrated to Australia.

Once Ganesh goes up to the Bridge, I had to fend for myself for entertainment.  Most times there is at least one other female on board, either another officers wife or the purser.  But there have been times where I was the only female on board, which meant I was the only one who didn’t really have a job to do. I didn’t really mind it. I spent my time reading, going on the bridge wing and just watching the sea, and at times being entertained by the dolphins and so forth.  I didn’t have to do any cooking or cleaning and every 3-4 days shopping in a different country.  A girl could get used to this life.

If there was another female, then I just hoped that they liked scrabble and monopoly, preferably scrabble.  I think the best buddy I had on board was Irani, 2nd Engineer Ryan’s wife.  She was a great scrabble player, unless she was struck with sea sickness.

Yes, the sea was not always calm.  She can have the biggest tantrum at times and put on a show.  I started to learn some nautical lingo (but never could work out why we had to call it port and starboard, right and left would have sufficed).  I loved pitching; the waves would hit the front of the ship, the focsle and make a big splash.  While, I admired this beauty, mother natures’ fury out on display, Irani was in the bathroom, bringing up yesterday’s corn beef.  Not the best time for either of us.  I was bored and she was sea sick.

I didn’t mind rolling although it wasn’t as pretty as pitching, but yawing made even my stomach churn.  Another down side to rough seas was that, most times the chef was unable to cook a proper meal and hence you end up with corn beef.  I hate corn beef.

I learnt pretty fast that the sea can change its mood without much notice.  This particular day Ganesh came down to the cabin as the sea was getting very rough.  I didn’t think much of it.  I was lying on the bunk (bed in laymen’s term) and reading a book.  Ganesh came down to the cabin and started to stow away the things that was on top of the cupboard and lash the cupboard.  I couldn’t understand why he was tying the two cupboard door handles together.  It didn’t seem that rough. I thought it was a bit of an overreaction, anyway who am I to advise him? While I was admiring the seaman’s knot that was now on the cupboard door, this Seaman’s slowly developing tummy and trying to read all at the same time, the ship rolled.  I departed the bunk on a horizontal manner, hit the bulkhead and fell to the floor, like a bird that would fly into a glass pane. My ever supportive husband was laughing his head off.  News travels fast in these ships.  This was news of the day at dinner.

I sailed on a few other ships after that, MV. Lanka Athula and MV. Lanka Seedevi to name a few.  We were back on Sri Mathi a couple more times. This was and is my favourite ship. I guess I could be a bit bias, as this was my first ship. Second time around we had Capt. Asoka Wijey as Master and Robert Wijey as Chief  Engineer.  Asoka’s wife didn’t accompany him as she had just given birth to a baby girl.  Obviously Asoka thought this was the best time to escape to the sea avoiding the nappy duties.  Robert had not met his (beautiful) wife at that time.  I love chocolates.  When I am shopping in Port Khorfakkan , I do what the locals do.  I followed the “when in Rome… theory”.  The Arabs have big families and big wallets.  Purchases are made by the carton.  I did the same.  I bought a carton of kit kat, a carton of twix, a carton of bounty, a carton of… you get the picture.  After lunch these two would follow us to our cabins for a chocolate.  Munching on the chocolate we will continue to talk more BS.  No one made any sense, but each one of us was sure that we were right, the other was not, and most often it was three against one. I didn’t mind as I secretly felt proud that I could hold them out on my own.

Many a times I have sailed with kids as well. No scrabble, but I didn’t mind as I enjoyed being the spoiling aunty.There were two kids in particular that I fell in love with. Chief Engineer Rogers son and daughter, bit vague on the names Shiva and Shivi I think.  Cutest little things, now all grown up and probably married.  I read somewhere the other day that “It’s not you that is getting old but your kids are”.

Along with jokes and fun times, I also like to shed light to some of the heroic work that goes on. For them it’s just another day at the office.  It was early hours in the morning, we were still asleep, Ganesh answers a call from the bridge. He says fire into the phone, looks through the porthole and then runs out the cabin without telling me anything. I looked outside through the porthole.  Rows and rows of containers, I couldn’t see any fire.  I got changed out of my pj’s.  Ganesh came back to the cabin on a mad dash, said “good you are changed, a container is on fire, but should be ok”, and dashed back up again, fire alarm went off.  I was not too keen on getting into the life boat, we had just left Fujerah and my fridge has just been restocked with chocolates, it would be a shame to abandon that.

One of the containers carrying charcoal had caught fire.  Sitting in the hot sun in Fujerah the charcoal had ignited due to self combustion.  Next five or six days everyone including the chief cook was fighting the fire. Ganesh barely slept. It was the same for everyone on board. We finally managed to reach Saudi, sense of relief, we can finally hand over this headache to the Saudi’s. Unfortunately it wasn’t that simple, they didn’t won’t to let us come in, until the fire was out.  I guess they understood petroleum more than charcoal. It was hard to explain it to them that the charcoal has to just burn down, it cannot be put out by water, we were using water to keep it under control, to keep it from spreading to the other containers.  Suggestion was put forward by the P & I Surveyor to use this container by the fire fighting training college was eagerly accepted by the Saudie’s .  It is in these circumstances that it comes to light that the ship life is not just fun and games.  When you out there in the middle of ocean, it just you and the crew, for better or for worse.  It high lights the importance of team work, proficiency, trust and commitment by each crew member.

I spent many a Christmas and New Years on board.  It’s a day for the Chief Cook to highlight his skills.  There was one Chief Cook in particular who loved the festivities. He should be called a Chef rather than a cook. He could be rated along with Rick Styne the Michelin star Chef.  Just like Rick he was well travelled and cooked many different cuisines.  However, just like Rick, struggled with the simple parrippu.  I had no complains, I could care less about the parrippu, I had four amazing deserts to devour.

Sundays was rather special, all gathered in the bar before lunch, round of drinks and darts is usually the order of the day.  Everyone was keen on giving me a turn on the darts.  That was part of the entertainment.  The dart board is mounted on a bigger plywood board.  Great excitement and cheer if I manage to get the darts on the plywood board.  It received more cheer than a bulls eye from champ. I think the rightward slant of the body and leg to balance the rolling ship is negated by the leftward slant walk and head tilt now due to the hydration in the bar, gives them the perfect stance, balance and aim at darts.  I now realise the reason for my shortcomings. A few more glasses of gin and may be a pair of stilts could have fixed my problem.

It is twenty five years since we last sailed and have migrated to a new country.  But the friendships made and the memories created, still remain in tact.  Even when we lose all contacts with someone and then we meet them years later, it starts from where we left off, and it’s as if we never left.  It was a workplace like no other. Even amongst shipping companies, CSC was rather special.The bond exists, not by the proximity of your dwelling, but rather by the memories of yesteryear.  Here’s to memories and mate ship.

… Other than my husband’s name all other names have been changed.  Just in case I become famous they don’t come down demanding for royalties.