School – Uma's life and thoughts

The Word Patina..what evokes?

Posted on Jan 29, 2018 by uma197

Working from home can sometimes be a bit challenging. It demands discipline at a time procrastination wants to raise it’s ugly head. My fingers seem to wander off opening all other tabs – Facebook, email and abc news. I like to stop there as delving into them is usually a very short stop. Sometimes I would open up WordPress as well. And the worst one is Korean Dramas. I don’t like the last two tabs as I know it’s not going to be a short stop. Today is one of those days. Work seems to be wandering faraway, but it’s okay the deadlines aren’t here yet too. As my son and I sometimes joke “if it’s not the due date then it’s not the do date”.

I normally write at night, after I have done my days dues. It’s my guilty pleasure, my small treat. Not today, I have decided to take a day off, maybe not the whole day but at least a few hours off to do some reading and writing.

Work is important as it pays the bills. But leisure is important because it gives a worthwhile reason to work. That’s my excuse for today anyway.

I peek at the word prompts on wordpress and ponder which word, which subject takes my fancy.

Patina – Evokes the memories of my Old English master. He wasn’t our school teacher but an external Tutor the nuns recruited for the boarders. He was tall and huge. I particularly remember the tiny glasses that sat on the edge of his nose.

My passion and advancement for the English language was molded by mainly Four individuals. My dad – he introduced me to many classics, Rudyard Kipling’s “Just So Stories” was one of them. Needless to say that’s what I read as bedtime stories to my kids. My dad introduced me to another old relative, not sure how he was related to us, that was Mr Ganeshan. He was amazing at picking an unusual word and describing it with gusto. So he was my second mentor. The third was this Old English Master. He was an imposing figure and we were meek and humble in front of him. Many hated his vocabulary lessons. But the nerd in me welcomed his lessons. Patina was his word. Before I ponder away into memories and let you wonder who the forth mentor was. Well it’s my hubby. Until I met him I read many books, but mainly romance. I didn’t mind detective stories and yes Sherlock Holmes was on the list. Hubby introduced me to a whole different world. Never in a million years would I have read books such as “Hunt for red October” or the Borne series. Not my cup of tea would have been my answer. But he encouraged me and said just read the first chapter and give up if you still don’t like it. Mentors come in all shapes and sizes.

PATINA – bellows out our master – a pause and the word repeated again. Dictionaries aren’t allowed to be open until we’ve been told so. I had no idea what it meant. No one did, I was eagerly waiting for his explanation while some had already moved on to daydream. He points us to the St Joseph’s Bronze Statue that dominates the room. “The green stuff on the bottom, that’s Patina”. Huh! what an anti climax. That’s just mere oxidation. He went onto explain how and when you would use that word in normal conversation.

I was young then, I didn’t think further than that about that word since then. But seeing it on the list here, it did evoke old memories and new musings.

Memories of my dad – movies, songs, books, studies, humanity, my dad had a hand in all of that. Even him introducing Mr. Ganeshan was all part of his grand plan. It appears that there is a film of Patina still lingering over the silhouette of my body, the untimely death of my dad, life lessons learnt after his passing, no amount of polishing seems to remove the stubborn patina.

I wonder if we are meant to cherish the Patina, rather than remove it, as if it’s a foreign body. Why not celebrate the multitude of colours as a symbol of life, age, history, memories and lessons learnt.

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

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

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

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

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

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

True Story, Inspirational

Twenty One Years and Nine Months ago….

Posted on Dec 7, 2017Dec 7, 2017 by uma197

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Twenty One Years and Nine Months Ago (there about) a young couple had this crazy idea that they should now think about a second child. They were very happy with their first effort and couldn’t see a reason not to go ahead with their idea.

From the get go this second child made sure he announced his coming to the world and there was red carpet waiting for him. So the star was born just a few weeks before he was really due. Mum was relieved as she had enough of his kicking in the stomach and decided he was better out than in, however the dad would have preferred a night of uninterrupted Cricket. As it was time was Arjuna Ranatunga to get out it was time for Arjuna Ganesan to come out.

You would think with such an Omen this young Arjuna would have turned out to be a great Cricketer. Well he is left handed and that’s where the similarities and talent ends.

Well, he doesn’t need to be the next Arjuna Ranatunga or anyone else for that matter. From the get go he showed us that he was an individual with his own identity that is to be admired and loved.

I am not entirely sure when he started to talk. It could have been even the same day he was born telling the doctor what to do. He started to talk pretty early and hasn’t given up on it as yet. He has a lot to say about a lot of things. Although an Asthmatic, no issues with voice projection either. Driving the boys to school I recollect many a times Hari (my eldest) declaring that it was “quiet time now”, just to get some breathing space to think on our own. This ability to talk did give him some opportunity to venture into Public Speaking and land a few MC gigs. When your child takes the stage to address a large audience of adults at the age of nine barely reaching the microphone, it does give the mother and father a moment of Goosebumps.

He loved the stage to speak, to act and to dance. As he grew he became more aware of the society and its issues. He was in year 7, and he returns home with his lunch box untouched. He explains to me that he didn’t get time to eat, as he had to break up two year 4 kids fighting in the school grounds. Him and his friend had to tell these kids to break up and explained to them that things would get worse if the teachers got involved. As he was having this negotiation he saw a small kid from Kindergarten in the middle of the car park. So he had to run to get this kid out of the way and take him into the School Office. And when all this finished it was time to head back to his classroom.

There was a kid in Arj’s class (Primary School year 6 or thereabouts) who was considered to be a bully. But this kid was really a great Cricketer. One day Arj asked me during the match to call out this kid and cheer him on. To yell out “Great shot Tony” (I made up that name Tony). Arj explained to me that this kid had no mum and the father was struggling to bring up his kids. And the father rarely attends any of the matches or training. And even when he did, he would yell at them and wasn’t really being a loving dad. So Arj explained to me and said maybe the reason he bullies others is because there is no one to say he is great or make him feel special.

So I followed Arj’s request and during the game I yelled “Tony that was a great shot”. The kid was really startled. When he came back to the club house, he came up to me and said “Thank you Mrs. Ganesan” and the following weeks, after each match or while the game was going on and he was waiting for his turn, he would start a conversation with me. He mentioned that he would one day like to play for the state. Any time he saw me in school, even outside of Cricket he would stop and great me “How are you Mrs. Ganesan?” Years later I met him at the shopping centre all grown up and unrecognisable, but he recognised me and greeted me the same “Hallo Mrs. Ganesan, how are you?” I am not saying that kid turned into a new leaf just because of that one action but I am pretty sure he appreciated that small gesture. It meant nothing to me but it meant so much to that kid. But what astounds me most is that Arj at such a young age realised this.

Even at that young age he was fascinated with politics. For one of his school projects he interviewed a few known Politicians. It was not easy for a Primary school kid to get these interviews. So he got many knock backs and but eventually he managed to interview Nick Minchin, Christopher Pyne and John Hill. To their credit they didn’t treat him like a kid; they answered his questions like they would for Leigh Sales. Also I think it taught Arj that if you want to pursue something, you have to overcome knockbacks.

Years later, now studying Journalism and International relations seems very fitting for his personality and character.

Years ago, Twenty Nine Years and Nine months ago to be exact we had no idea that this crazy idea we had of having another child was going to be this exciting.

Thank you my boy for bringing so much happiness and joy. For all the laughs, for all the crazy things you drag us doing and for the moments you make us so proud. Those moments almost make me forget how your bedroom looks, all the times I have rushed to the hospital with lego pieces up the nose or crayon in the ear canal or with a broken limb. Just remember I said almost, so please clean up your room and stop hurting yourself.

Happy 21^st My boy.

Goa, Sri Lanka, Sri Lankan Politics, travel, True Story, Inspirational

Destination Goa (Part 8)

Posted on Jul 10, 2017Jul 10, 2017 by uma197

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As they say it’s been a long time between drinks. But in my case there has been many drinks but not much writing. What are the excuses that I can pin it on … broken finger, work and possibly a lack of interest or if I am to be totally honest and say addiction to Asian Teledramas. I know how stupid it sounds but I think it was an escapism. Started with watching Japanese dramas with subtitles with the excuse of learning the language, then I ran out of Jap dramas so I merged to Taiwanese so I started to learn a bit Mandarin. I have now progressed to Korean. Finding Korean hard to learn. Its a bit like French and German, similar grammar patterns but German has a stronger accent making it hard to pronounce than Japanese. The two subjects I started to write about has brought about the writers block. What I am finding out is that travelling is great but writing about it is not so much.

The other piece that I am currently writing is about my friend whom I lost in the civil war in Sri Lanka. In all my other writings/stories I hardly had to think about the audience. But, somehow in this one I am aware of the audience. Not necessarily because I am scared to upset the Sri Lankan readers, I think the issues that I am touching upon are necessary for reconciliation, it’s an actual snapshot of real life in a war torn country, along with other social issues, in my opinion an unbiased recount of evils of both sides. I am not by any means condoning Terrorism but, I do visit the possible reasons for the birth of one. In this regard feel it’s an important topic for the current climate in the world. Prevention is always better than a cure. My reason for writing this story is probably as most times to heal my heart of losing my dear friend Lalith. I have probably a lot of anger inside me regarding this. But the irony is I come from the clan that killed him. I haven’t settled on a title either. I have changed it so many times “Friendship and war”, “Friend from the other side”, “Friendship across enemy lines” the last one I have come up with is “Ammba Yalluwa” which translates to something like childhood friend/soul mate. I think I might settle with that.

I am usually not worried about offending someone when I write, but in this story I am and that is really having an effect on my writing. Discussing this with my son, he started to say, you can’t really worry about offending people, it’s your thoughts, it’s your reasoning, it’s your point of view. I get that but this subject is a hard one. This is not a subject where I tell a Christian what I think of his Anti Gay sentiments. The wounds go deeper than that in this. As a Tamil who lived amongst the Sinhalese and understood them way better than my own kith and kin from Jaffna (north of Sri Lanka) my so called unbiased views may not sit well with those who were tortured by the Sri Lankan Army. My views on why Terrorism grew in Sri Lanka will not be accepted by the Sinhalese either. My sister-in-laws friend and mum who had to witness her two brothers and her dad being burnt alive will never accept my theories and explanations about the Sinhalese. Lalith’s family never thought that all tamils were terrorists and they all had to die. However, wrong that theory is, I will have to accept that anger. Arj (my son) said something that really hit the nail. “Emotions aren’t rational, there is no way you could explain to kid in Syria that the Americans are nice people” All that kid has, heard, seen and experienced is the opposite. It is such a charged subject, I want to do justice to this story, but I am so torn as well.

I started to write about Goa and I have written two paragraphs of my other project. So, lets start about Goa. Today’s topic is Goan food, music and culture.

Maybe the reason I fell in love with Goa is due to the similarities of Goa and Sri Lanka. They were both Portuguese Colonies and hence the similarities I guess. But it’s just uncanny how similar Goa is to Sri Lanka and how different it is to the rest of India.

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The above is stuffed okra. That was one of my favourite dishes (that I took a photo of before digging into it first). I don’t think Sri Lanka has a stuffed okra dish, but similar to stuffed banana chillies. Similar dishes are pan rolls (in sri lanka we call them Chinese rolls not sure why because I don’t think the Chinese are aware of that roll), muscat (Goan’s call it Bibinka) and Thothal

muscat muscat thothal thothal

The best thing about it is that they view these as possible breakfast items and it is on the hotel breakfast buffet. Yes, of course I thought I was in heaven.

The curries are so different to the normal Indian Cuisine. A curry with the Rechad spice mix a must try. Fish is big in Goa. Not sure, if the laws have changed in the recent months but at the time we were there, Goa is one of the places in India where you can buy beef and alcohol in Restaurants rather freely. Most places in India have a ban on beef due to the cow being a revered animal as most of them claim to be Hindu’s. Not sure which part of Hinduism says its okay to eat all other meats but not beef, per my understanding of the religion all meats were out as it was considered to be killing another animal. I guess that’s another argument/beef (sorry for the dad pun, couldn’t help myself) for another day.

Clothing/culture: Goa is still kind of part of South India. The South India that I know is very conservative. Goa not so much or not at all. It’s a party town. Again very similar to Sri Lanka, Negambo in particular. Night life is very alive, and not just filled with tourists, this is mainly by the locals. Ladies in pretty sexy clothes, having a drink or two or more. Nothing atrocious, but no conservative woman in a saree with flowers in her hair sitting quietly in a corner.

Music: At these live music places its all English music, the one place we were at was all 80’s gems. But their local music is very similar to the Sri Lankan Baila. Again I think we can thank the Portuguese for that.

Ok the above is just a clip from the youtube to give you an idea of the Goan music, next I will post one from the Sri Lankan Baila to show you the similarities

Memories are a bit vague now, but I think the two places that we tried out was Tito’s and Kohi bar. Personal preference is Tito’s but I guess for the young ones Kohi Bar may be more attractive.

Just like in Sri Lanka Goa produces a lot of Spices as well Cashews. Cashew snacks are very similar to Sri Lanka as well. They go one better and have produced an alcohol drink with it as well called “Feni”, Looks clear like Vodka, as a shot it feels pretty potent, but great in a cocktail.

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I like to end it here for today. Adeus (good bye in Konkani – Goan language)

Daily post, Sri Lanka, True Story, Inspirational, Word prompt

First day back after a month’s silence

Posted on Oct 5, 2016Jul 10, 2017 by uma197

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It’s nearly a month since I wrote anything. Many reasons but mainly because of the reunion. I missed writing. With work and reunion planning and then a full house did not give me much opportunity to write. I sat down for a bit yesterday to write. After staring at the keyboard I retreated back to just liking things on facebook. Looked at the Daily Post word prompt to get a start. The word is Breakthrough. All I could think of was the scene on “Good will hunting”, Robin Williams telling Matt Damon “It’s not your fault”, It was fresh in my mind, as I had just watched it for the millionth time today. I am no movie critic, if I was, it would be a pretty short one, “I liked that movie or I didn’t really like that”. So I started to read a few of the other contributions under the topic “breakthrough”. There was one from hotwhitesnow on writers block. Exactly what I needed to breakthrough the fog.

https://hotwhitesnow.wordpress.com/2016/01/05/writing-through-writers-block/comment-page-1/#comment-989

Months of planning, too and fro about the date, the venue, the numbers, catering, table decor, the list goes on. Finally the girls were at our doorsteps and the day was here.

Some of us were meeting after nearly thirty years. We attended a school called Good Shepherd Convent, (in Kandy, Sri Lanka). Most westerners when they hear the end of the name “Convent”, they wonder if I was going to be a nun. The schools were originally established by the English missionaries. We didn’t have many co-ed Schools. So the girls schools were always attached to a nunnery and hence the name Convent. The nuns ran the school and the boarding.

Kandy is the capital of the Hill country. Most of the hills region are Tea Plantations. So, other than a handful of so called staff the rest would be Indian labour force brought in by the English to work on the tea fields. Woes of this labour force is a story for another day. Education was not the major priority for these folks. Needless to say the local schools were really not geared for higher education. So most of the parents sent their kids to boarding schools in Kandy or Colombo. Parents of girls mainly preferred to send their daughters to Catholic schools, even those who were not Catholics. They liked the discipline and conservative up bringing. I am rolling my eyes at this last sentence. Still let me continue.

Our school stands tall and proud on that hill and gives me goosebumps every time I see a picture of it or hear the school anthem ” Triumphantly we raise it the standard of our school, oh may we ever be faithful to our Alma mater’s rule…”

I am not totally sure if we became well disciplined or more rebellious, I am not sure if we adhered to the conservative up bringing or became more free thinkers, but I am certain that in spite of the rubbish we had to put up we became quite bonded. We became a family. I think we were united against that common enemy, the nuns of course.

With the civil war, marriage and migration most of us dispersed to different parts of the world. I lost contact with all of them. It was as if I had no childhood friends. My husband, his work and his circle of friends became my life. Then after the kids, it was the kids, hospitals trips, coughs and colds, Nebuliser and Ventolin became my life. No complains, it was my choice, well not much of a choice, that was what unfolded, life was dumped on me and I had to run with it.

Then probably about 7 years ago, I gave into joining Facebook. I had just come out of surgery. I had just been given the news that I have survived cancer. I had a major phiffany, “life’s too short to be doing just mundane things”. I had this major urge to connect with people that I had lost contact, from my old work places, from my old school etc.

Stumbled across Amalie on facebook. I only knew Amalie vaguely. She was younger than me and she was a day scholar. I only knew her because she used to hang out with Didi (a fellow boarder). I sent her friend request anyway. Seeing I was from the same Alma Mater, she accepted. That was the beginning. She was friends with a truck load of my friends from the boarding.

Some of us had changed in shapes and sizes. Many a OMG’s followed by “how many kids? Messages going back and forth, especially between me and Suzy girl. Then I found Binah. We were the best of buddies in the boarding. She left for Canada before finishing school. I was distraught when she left. Binah couldn’t wait any longer. She rang me earlier than the time we decided to call each other. We were just so happy. Then came a few other moments like that when I chatted with Praba and Malini. Found out that Vasugi lives in Brisbane and Tessa in Victoria. Shazee had not changed much at all. Just had longer hair.

Learnt that we’ve all gone through various pain and happiness. Some had lost their husbands, while some regretted their marriage. Some had lost a child and fighting with every might to continue. Some had done well in their careers and some not so. Some of us survived the dreaded C but sadly some didn’t.

But when we chatter, for that moment, we are back in school. We are connected by the memories of that school. We are once again united by that school. I am still trying to recover from that one week of partying. We laughed more than we drank. We danced more than we slept. That was a reunion to remember.

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