Come Alive

Happy Easter everyone!

Jeremy Camp - Come Alive

As I watch the world being held captive by dreams

That will never be fulfilled in this life,

Chasing the darkness and everything that surrounds

All the emptiness buried inside,

Well I won't stop showing this hope that is holding

The passion so deep in my heart,

To tell all the world of Your love and affection

And the plan that You've had from the start,

So I will continue to fight

'Til the world comes alive

'Til the world comes alive

Cause You have restored us

And You have redeemed us

And we have been given new life

Cause You are alive

There is a freedom that begins by receiving

The forgiveness that cleanses us all

All the broken and bleeding just start by believing

His love has conquered death's call.

So I will continue to fight

'Til the world comes alive

'Til the world comes alive

Cause You have restored us

And You have redeemed us

And we have been given new life

Cause You are alive

I walk out on the battlefield

See that all the pain is real

Be the hands that stop the bleeding

Seeing all these wounded souls

All they really need is hope

I'll show Your great love is healing

'Til the world comes alive

'Til the world comes alive

'Til the world comes alive

Cause You have restored us

And You have redeemed us

And we have been given new life

Cause You are alive

And You are alive

You are alive

You are alive

As I watch the world being held captive by dreams

That will never be fulfilled in this life

The Return of Basketball

Note: this is a purely basketball post. This will not interest 97% of you readers. Don't say I didn't warn you.

 

Recently, I played proper team basketball for the first time in 5 years.

While this may not seem like a topic worthy of a post for most, those of you that have followed this blog for a while will understand how passionate I am about the game of basketball. However, the corporate life and the lack of basketball amenities have resulted in me becoming an armchair player, if there is such a thing.

So imagine my surprise and delight when I heard that our company has a small practice session every Saturday morning in Colombo! The session starts at 7:30am, so naturally I was awake from 6am, turning up at the court a full half hour ahead of time.

After introducing myself to the players as they turned up, I stepped up to the free throw line to shoot my first free throw in years.

First though, I need you to watch this.

My free throw was only marginally, microscopically better than that (at least I hit the rim).

Now, it's not as if I didn't expect there to be some rust after not touching a basketball since 2008. But I was in for a long, long morning.

My shot mechanics were off, I couldn't seem to get my range at all, and even my layups were caroming off the backboard like I was trying to play dodge ball with it. Needless to say, the initial drills did not make me look very good in front of my new teammates.

Soon we split into two teams for some pick-up games. I haven't played basketball in Sri Lanka, and while in India we run either the standard 2-3 zone or man defense, here apparently they play 1-2-2 zone defense; something I was very unfamiliar with. We played a few points and I think I made a defensive gaffe on almost every possession. This was not going well.

However, after a few more minutes of confusion, things started becoming clearer. And then, finally, it started coming back to me.

See, while the shot was most definitely completely missing in action, and my dribble was shaky at best, the defense was still there. After shutting down a few players on a couple of possessions, I started feeling my confidence returning.

Over the next hour and 15 minutes, I started to really get back into the  groove on both the offense and the defense. My team was horrible on the boards so I started playing under the rim, boxing out and cleaning up a few rebounds. I made a few nice crisp passes for assists, disrupted a fast break, and then found myself on a fast break. Unfortunately, I got fouled on the play without trying to anticipate the contact and get off a good shot, for which I vowed vengeance (in a very team-friendly, competitive way, of course). A few possessions later I got the defensive rebound and broke on the fast break again. The same defender turned up, and this time I side stepped him, went behind his momentum and tossed up a floater - a shot I almost never use.

Nothing but net.

Right then, I knew things were going to be okay.

This being the first game in front of the other players, I was determined not to leave without a good report, so even though my abysmal stamina was threatening to shut entire parts of my body down, I kept pushing and hustling on defense, even managing to get a huge block on one play. Somehow, I made it to the end of the practice before collapsing on a bench. I had used up almost every single iota of energy in my body; and it was only 930am.

I know this may all sound rather self-congratulatory, but it really was a celebratory moment for me. I'm glad I get to play at least on weekends now, and the opportunity gives me an outlet to try out all the geeky basketball strategies and plays I've been storing in my head all these years. Even right now I'm researching the best way to break 1-2-2- zone defenses, as well as the proper ways to play it. Hopefully in a few weeks I can try to convince people to shift to man defense and have some proper pick-n-roll, pick-n-pop plays.

Small joys, but they make the week go by a lot easier. Look forward to more basketball posts!

 

Long December (Or Good Riddance 2012)

Well, here we are again. The end of yet another year. I had such grand plans for my year ending post, but I thought I'd save that for a first of 2013 post instead.

I suppose I should reflect on the year and all, right? Well, it's been a terrible year for blogging - I've posted the least number of posts this year since I started this blog. I shall attribute this to less time in front of the computer and more time actually doing things, and I'd only be half lying. It's been a pretty good year on the music front though, what with the Colombo Music Festival, my introduction to the Melomanic Sessions in January, and the recently concluded "Final Wishlist". When it comes to music, there are few better teachers than experience, and I've had a lot of hard lessons this year. Some good shows at Melo, a few good performances at the Music Festival, and a lot of bombs that have me still shaking my head. Still, I'm so glad for all the opportunities I've had to perform and I hope 2013 brings even more my way.

It's hard for me to write about the personal front. It's been challenging, and I have made mistakes more often than I have succeeded, but isn't that life in general? I've watched the people I love let me down, and I in turn have let down the people that love me, and at the end of the day all we can do is try to forgive, try to heal, try to live with the things that have been said to us or by us. Our hearts keep beating, our lungs keep breathing, and time calls out from ahead of us asking if we're coming or not. Is it easy? No. But mixed in among all the bad, there is a lot of good, and sometimes that's enough to make peace with the rest of it.

My brother moved to Switzerland for his higher studies, and I miss him terribly. I wish he had been here to watch my sing; he has always been an honest critic. Christmas was tough without him, but apparently he was working on Christmas so I suppose we got the better end of that deal. Looking forward to seeing him in 2013.

All in all, 2012 was memorable, for both good and not-so-good reasons, and if anything is 'memorable' then I suppose it was worth it, wasn't it?

So here's to a new year, with more of the new and less of the old. May you, dear readers, always journey forwards and onwards to brighter, better things.

To sign off, let me add a few songs to this post. The first is a video of one of my solos at the "Final Wishlist" programme 3 weeks ago. The second is a rush job, hastily edited cover made with my hoarse vocals and zero editing. Not something I would normally do, but I just wanted to get it out there.

Happy New Year everyone!

G

To All You Rapists

The woman and a male friend, who have not been identified, were traveling in a public bus in the Indian capital, New Delhi, after watching a film on the evening of Dec. 16 when they were attacked by six men who raped her. They also beat the couple and inserted an iron rod into her body resulting in severe organ damage. Both of them were then stripped and thrown off the bus, according to police.

(Source:  TIME World)

I haven't blogged in a long time, but this was enough to spur me to break my silence.

I'm getting really tired of hearing the same old arguments in connection with abuse against women and sexual assault. I'm sick of hearing about her underage drinking, about her partying, about her drug use, about her tiny skirts, about her many sexual partners, about how it wasn't "legitimate rape".

So listen up, priests, ministers, policemen, bus drivers, layman and even some of you women - you can sit and debate - debate - the so-called ethics and 'moral code' regarding men and women's attire and behaviour. You can debate lifestyles, you can debate all of these things.

But there is no argument in heaven or earth, no argument from any religious text, no argument from any corner, no conceivable scenario that justifies or excuses a man from sticking anything, be it his dick or a metal rod, into a woman's vagina. By even trying to do so, you are joining the side of the rapist. You are siding with the RAPISTS!! DO YOU UNDERSTAND THAT??

Got it? Good.

It has to freakin' stop. Now. 

p.s: Dear Indians; you are quick to set fire to things when cricketers fail you. Please, use this opportunity, this media spotlight, this worldwide outrage to unleash your pyrotechnics and end this lackadaisical, nonchalant, turn-a-blind-eye type of attitude towards your mothers, your sisters, your daughters. For the love of God women, please make it stop.

A Final Wishlist: A Christmas Programme Making A Difference

The last few weeks have been extremely busy for me, involving training programmes, lots of travelling, and lots and lots of singing. Yes, 'tis the season to be jolly, and what better way to get in the festive mood than Christmas carols and tunes?

 

Besides the usual church carol services, I've been lucky enough to be asked to do a couple of songs for Music.Inc's latest production titled "A Final Wishlist" , directed by Shannon Jacob.  If you’ve been to their shows before, you’ll know that they put up great musical and stage performances, and always in aid of a worthy cause. This time, their final show is in aid of EMERGE LANKA, a foundation that undertakes for the care and rehabilitation of girls that have been the victims of rape, incest and other forms of sexual assault, and are waiting for their respective court cases to be settled. These girls are between the ages of 10 and 18, and these court cases can sometimes drag on for years and years. During this time, the attacker is free, while the girls are kept in shelters, isolated from outside contact, and shunned from their families.

Emerge Lanka works in co-ordination with these shelters, providing basic education, counselling, financial knowledge, life skills and sex education to these girls until they are released, at which time they will then be equipped to handle being reintroduced to the world without the support of friends or family.

Music.Inc will be staging two shows on the 12th and 13th of December at the British School Auditorium, from 730pm onwards. The tickets will be priced at Rs. 1000, 750 and 500 have been sold out! However, there may be a few balcony tickets available on a first come first served basis, so do try to come as early as possible if you're coming and you might get lucky! The team from Music.Inc have spent some time with the girls from Emerge, and have gotten them to write up a 'wishlist' comprising up to 5 items of what they really want this Christmas season. The money raised from this programme will go towards making those wishes come true, including a small mini-carnival for the girls; something that they would never be able to participate in in their current confines.

If you've not able to make it, here is a small sample for you:

Hope to see you guys there! I may be biased in my opinion, but trust me when I say: I've never been to a show like this before. I sincerely hope you make it, and join in on making someones wishes come true this festive season.

 

Notes On A Funeral

Recently I attended the funeral of a colleague's father. He had been battling throat cancer and succumbed after around 6-8 months of treatment. He was in his 70's, and I think his passing was somewhat expected given his frail condition. I got the call on Sunday that he had finally succumbed, and we went with the rest of the office crew for the funeral at his house.

I've not been to too many funerals, and the few I have been to have been traditional Christian funerals, at churches etc. Perhaps this colours my opinions a little bit, but whatever the case may be, I thought of jotting a few points down.

1. The first thing I noticed was how there were very few people actually 'grieving'. As we entered the funeral home, there were no idle people around. The family members were busy arranging food and drinks, while the rest of the 'visitors' simply sat outside catching up with each other in the hastily erected tent. Even our colleague showed little or no emotion that this was in fact his father's funeral, instead spending most of his time making sure the generator was okay and chatting with a few of his relatives and work friends. Now, I perfectly understand that people deal with grief in different ways, yet I still felt a little unsettled at this lack of emotion at the proceedings.

2. While the family at least were somewhat sombre, the rest of the people who had turned up at the funeral showed little concern that this was a funeral, loudly guffawing and joking with each other, completely oblivious that they were standing roughly 20 feet from a dead body. I was really embarrassed by this; how can people be so callous over the death of a loved one? Sure you may not have known the man personally but still, some form of decorum should be present. Just because they've seated outside in this tent, the gang goes into party mood. If there was booze around, they would probably have burst into song.

3. The Buddhist monks arrived, and while my poor Sinhala and ignorance to most Buddhist customs prevent me from commenting more on the part they played, I was rather surprised when they left abruptly in the middle of the proceedings. Just as soon as a someone got up to speak about the deceased man, they three monks simply nodded at our colleague and got into their waiting trishaw. I found this rather strange, but again this may be the custom that I am unaware of. Yet, if we are asking a religious figure to attend our funeral, isn't it sort of a given that we want them there for the whole ceremony? I would be very surprised if a Christian priest simply read a few verses and left in the middle of the funeral, leaving the family to handle the rest of the proceedings, and as far as I know, most faiths would have a similar expectation.

4. While I know that a funeral of a loved one is certainly memorable, I don't know why in the world anyone would want to take photographs during it! There was one relative, armed with a point & shoot, who took several pictures throughout the evening. I'm talking about the coffin, the deceased, the people, the priests, the priests and the coffin, and then the hearse, the coffin again as it was carried to the graveyard, the grave stone, the coffin as it was lowered, the coffin as it was buried. It was ridiculous, having this serious and difficult time being punctuated with camera flashes and the digital beeps every time he went back and forth to see if he got the coffin in just the right light. If anyone did that at a funeral of my loved one, there would be an extra body to bury. I'm sure he uploaded them on Facebook that same night.

5. Our company makes a point of sending an email to the entire workforce if a relative of an employee passes away, including providing transport to and from the funeral. I always found this surprisingly considerate, given our 'corporate' label, but I have since noticed that this trend of announcing and providing transport for everyone's funerals has made the whole idea a bit of an 'event'. You hear people asking each other if they're going for this one or not, as if there is some form of merit gained by attending the most number of funerals in a year. Is this what has led to my previous points regarding the levity of the attendees? I'm unsure, but it's something to ponder on.

My Father's Son

I don’t understand you. Me. Us.
I am constantly shifting from yearning to be like you to being terrified that I will
Your strengths are magnified in my eyes because of my weaknesses, which in turn are magnified in my own eyes because of your strengths
We are cut from the same cloth, of the same blood, but are we the same?
Will we ever be? Do you want us to be?

I know nothing about anything anymore, but I know this, father.
In the cool silence of these nights, I have learned one bitter truth
I am my father’s son
So make room at your table, for I too am destined to disappoint the ones I love

I hope you are proud.

Late Night Psychology

I just caught myself in the most bizarre situation.

There I was, in my room, at 2am, shooting imaginary free throws in the dark.

I kid you not. One minute I was in bed, staring at a silent phone, endlessly refreshing Twitter, when suddenly I just jumped out of bed, stood at a ‘line’ formed by the floor, set my feet, and went through the motions of a free throw. I must be losing my mind.

I’m a mess right now, but you couldn’t tell by looking at me. On the outside everything is pretty much business as usual, yet inside my head there is a lot of confusion, a lot of stress, and it manifests itself in strange ways. I have often looked to music and singing in times of turmoil, but it was two o’clock in the morning, and there was no way I was bursting into song at that ungodly hour. Option 2? Basketball.

Why basketball? I’m not sure. It’s not just because I love the sport, or because I was any good at it (I wasn’t). So what possible explanation could there be?

I got in position again and went through the same motions again, the same ball spin with all those dribbles before getting into my shooting motion, letting my arm rise with an open palm, releasing the imaginary ball at the apex and following through with the shooting arm.

In basketball, no matter if you are shooting the ball well or shooting it horribly, the true scorers know that you need to get to the free throw line by drawing fouls on you. Scoring points from the free throw line is key; they’re relatively easier than shooting with someone trying to defend you, and they are the same all the time. So players develop routines, unique to them, that helps them get in rhythm and shoot the free throw as close to perfect every time. Easy points.

Perhaps that’s what I need: routine. Something tried and tested that I can go back to with confidence. Something to restore order to chaos. Something stable.

I am reaching and searching for answers right now, and I am struggling to find them. I am struggling to find comfort or stability in anything. I am blessed with a home and a loving family, but after the recent trials we have been through, that ‘stability’ has not yet been re-established in them. Friends are too fickle and fleeting; they come and go depending on their posting. I am constantly on the move, one week at home, one week in Colombo, the rest of the weeks at work.

There is too much flux, too much change, and nothing constant. It irks me. I crave peace, silence, stability, but there are just no answers, not in music, not in reading, not in prayer, not in meditation, not in family, and not from above.

Perhaps soon I will figure out what will give me this peace that I desire, but until then I suppose I’ll just stand here like a complete idiot, shooting invisible basketballs, and seeking solace in the imagined swish of the ball falling through the net. Comical, pathetic, and melodramatic. Yes, even I’m laughing at myself. Yet tonight, it will have to do.

Twenty Minute Posting VI: Sun and Rain

I haven't written a "Twenty Minute Post" in a while. For those who haven't read them, basically I set myself twenty minutes to write whatever comes to mind. A sort of writing exercise, that helps me get things out on 'paper' so to speak.

So what do I have to say today? A lot, as usual; my mind is always actively seeking distraction in any way it can. Recently I have been thinking about tattoos, and whether I should get one. Of course, it's not just about getting a tattoo; these things are rather permanent, so you need the right design, the right location, the right artist, and above all the right 'reason'. I don't really see myself getting one for purely artistic reasons, as I'm hardly someone who can claim to have artistic taste. Yet, it's intriguing, the idea of branding yourself with something that you assume will still be relevant and attractive 10, 15, 20, 40 years down the line. 

What do you think? Would a tattoo look good on me? 

I performed at the Melomanic Sessions last Saturday, and as always I had a great time. The show was excellent, and the music was really good! In my opinion Asela and Salvage stole the show, but Imaad was an excellent opener, and the bands were all good. I'll upload the audio as soon as I get my hands on it. It was a fun show, and though I was rather nervous before the performance for some reason, once I got up there I felt relaxed. Overall I have got more positives than negatives, so I'll take that as a good thing. I'll let you be the judge of it yourself as soon as I upload the audio from the set. Stay tuned!

One of my biggest flaws is that I can be rather moody. I'm not sure if moody is the right word; it implies that the reasons behind the mood shifts are generally petty. Life is a constantly moving ocean, and one can never expect the highs or lows to last forever. Yet, it's how we deal with those swells that show your character and strength. I have done a poor job of that, and I must rectify this as soon as possible. Being euphoric when I'm high is well and good, but beating myself down into submission during a low is unacceptable. After all, broody introspective men are sexy only for a short while; then it just begins to become annoying, and quite rightly so.

I feel that my idea of friendship is very different from most other people's views. I don't have enough time left to elaborate further, but I have been in some surprisingly awkward situations regarding friendship in the last few months. My motives in friendship are generally honourable, and I am not the kind of person to pretend to be something I'm not just to appease a peer. Yet it seems this is a common characteristic among most other people, and indeed a celebrated skill, as not everyone 'needs the same thing'. It's a disturbing thought, but it has merit. While my 'strategy' involves more honesty and is easier to maintain, perhaps the other way is more successful.

Another thing about friendship is that despite history and the past, friendship is just like every other infant relationship. I often am surprised at the tiny things that can reduce a solid friendship into a bickering, blathering mess. It has happened too many times in my past to be labelled as isolated incidents. At the end of the day, you have yourself, and you have your words, and you have your actions. There is no such thing as character and reputation, no excuse like "you know me, you know who I am"; friendships are hard, and unforgiving. They're great when you're on a high, but when you're down, there are few who are willing to give you the benefit of the doubt, or attempt to see things in your eyes. Perhaps the world has made us too bitter, for too long, for us to trust anyone to that degree anymore.

I must think about it.

Time's up!

When Words Are Not Enough

My world makes no sense to me, and unlike before, my words are unable to encapsulate this and present it as a witty commentary on this blog.

I used to be able to express myself in song, but now I can't find anything that accurately expresses what I'm feeling.

It's moments like these I simply raise my hands in surrender.

This song helps me do that.

Sight-seeing In Singapore

Thanks to the Sinhala and Tamil New Year, and Sri Lanka's general reluctance to work, I had a solid 12 day holiday in the middle of April, and it's about time I blogged about it! While I was more than content to laze around at home and devour whatever my mother cooked up, my parents decided to organise a small trip to Singapore to coincide with one of Dad's business trips.

I'm sure many of you have been to Singapore, as it is one of the more popular destinations within South East Asia. I've only been there once back in 1999, which meant this trip would basically be a second 'first' time.

However, I know a lot of you will testify that going on a vacation overseas is extremely different when you're doing it with family. There are less adventures and more tours, less exploring and more shopping, less drinking and more eating. Needless to say, my brother and I was slightly wary of this trip to begin with.

Anyway, here are a few of my thoughts on the more 'interesting' points of our trip.

The Flight

We left Monday morning via Sri Lankan Airlines, flying direct to Singapore. Thanks to Dad's miles, we were in business class, and me and bro used the opportunity to finally watch 'Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows', in spite of the pitifully small screen and poor quality. The movie was excellent, but nothing beat the hilarity that ensued when my father, headphones firmly clasped on his ears and oblivious to how loud he was, turned to my mother and said in what he thought was a discreet whisper, "Oh look, that stewardess spilled the whole thing on him!". Sure enough, the stewardess in question stopped mid way through her attempts to clean off the juice that had spilled on to the passengers lap, and gave a rather un-airhostess-like stare at my father. It's been 3 weeks and my brother and I are still laughing about that one.

The Hotel

The hotel we stayed in was a good, 4 star hotel right along the famous, and very expensive, Orchard road. Bro and I were sharing a room, and for some reason they had booked us as Mr. and Mrs,. However, this wasn't the biggest surprise we had in store for us.

While the room was nice and looked extremely comfortable, the bathroom left me feeling quite the opposite. Sure, it was very plush and well lit, but for some reason the wall separating the bathroom from the bedroom had a large 6 foot tall glass window in it.

"You missed a spot..."

Yes, this meant that whoever was in bed at that time could watch the other person showering. I have no idea why they would have this 'facility' in a regular room (and yes, it was a regular room and not a honeymoon suite) but at least they have a waterproof curtain that could be rolled down for the less adventurous. Bizarre. Bro and I refused to discuss it.

The Shopping

One of the only items on our Singapore agenda that was written in stone was a trip to the fabled Mustafa's Shopping complex.

Shopping at Mustafa's is a singular experience that can't be replicated in Sri Lanka. I'm not exactly a shopping 'expert', but I've never been through anything quite like those 4 hours we spent there among the mountains of goods laid out before us. It was shopaholic-heaven, and consequently, our worst nighmare.

Oh dear.

That is kind of what shopping at Mustafa's is like. It's a two building complex with 3 basements and 3 floors, designed to be so maddeningly confusing that once you enter it, you're almost compelled to buy something just to distract yourself from how lost you are. They not only have everything, they have a lot of it. We were completely overwhelmed with it, so much so that it was almost impossible to pick anything, due to the vast array of choice available to us. Shoes? Sure, just this way sir; we have millions of shoes all stacked one on top of the other. Electronics, sure we have all of them in this entire floor ranging from cell phones to 3D 50-inch TV's. Food items, perfumes, curtains, watches, ceramics, jewelry, footwear, computers - it was just too, too much for us to handle. After Bro and I wandered around bewildered for a while, we managed to find a few sunglasses and a pair of shoes, but in the process we had managed to get ourselves completely and utterly lost. So, we did what anyone would do in this situation: we ran in every direction as fast as we could, screaming for help. Well, not screaming, but we just randomly ran up and down stairs and along corridors until we finally found the exit to the road. Then we realised we had somehow crossed over from one building into the other across the street! To this day we have no idea how this happened, but luckily we managed to get to the road and send a text to our parents to meet outside.

Guitar Heaven

We stumbled on to some 'unconventional' stores too. Read carefully.

Universal Studios

The weather cleared up for the one day, and we were lucky enough to be spending it at the Universal Studios theme park in Sentosa. After two days of shopping, my Bro and I were looking forward to some enjoyment. Frankly, Universal Studios blew our minds! The park was so well done, with the themed sections being unbelievably detailed. There was a Hollywood section, complete with a Hollywood walk of fame and a sound stage with a video intro from Steven Spielberg. Then there was "Madagascar", themed after the animated movie, and "Far Far Away" themed after Shrek. Till here it was very low key and interesting, but I was psyched about the next section - "Waterworld", themed after one of my favourite 'bad' movies from back in the 90's. We were just in time to catch the live-actions show, which was 15 minutes of a small enacted and choreagraphed scene from the movie filled with jet skis, boats, explosions, fights and some very cool stunts.

From there we moved onto the Lost World section, and then moved to Egypt section. I'll let the pictures speak for themselves.

After a good lunch, we went through 1940's New York, a Sci-Fi section, and of course the famous 3D Transformers ride. Honestly, I don't have words to describe how great that was; it was so amazingly real, and done so well that the transition between real walls and the 3D screen lent the ride a fantastic feeling of reality. Being hurled through buildings by Megatron and falling out of the sky, only to be scooped up at the very last second by Bumblebee, talking to Optimus Prime - all done to perfection. Easily the highlight of the day.

The People

I found the people of Singapore rather interesting. Here they were, surrounded by all this wealth and affluence, and yet most of them were eager to complain about government taxes and increasing prices. Our cab drivers, quick to spot we were tourists, were an abundant source of information and witty humour regarding the state of the government, often lamenting how expensive it was to buy a car or cab in Singapore.

And yet, after all the complaining, one cab driver had to admit that he was still able to take care of his family and his children quite comfortably. After all the deductions, he said he takes home SGD 5000 per month, which in Sri Lankan Rupees is roughly Rs. 500,000! As for the price of vehicles, one can only imagine the wealth in the country when we saw four Lamborghini Gallardo's, a McLaren F1, and at least 10 Mercedes AMG's in a span of 3 days.

Yes, Singapore seems to be a vibrant, modern city, as is evidenced by the crowds of fashionable, well dressed men and women on their streets, clutching their expensive handbags, wearing their slick suits or rushing in their bright red high heels or bright red Mercedes. Yet, I seemed rather unnerved by the lifestyle here. I wasn't there long enough to be sure, but there seemed to be a strong materialistic aura that hung around most people I saw, especially the women. While many of my friends told me there would be lots of "eye-candy", I was slightly put off by the over-dressing stiletto-wearing girls I happened to notice. Personally, I see no reason for Asian women to be envious of the freedom Singapore women live under; while they may be able to wear and do most anything they choose to without condemnation, to me they seem to be living under a different type of bondage all together.


Yes, so that's my wrap-up of Singapore, finally! It was definitely a very interesting visit, and I am quite looking forward to visiting again. Perhaps when I do my Masters? Time will tell.

Love

To you,

The lines of communication between us have not always been open. I remember a time when I would shut my heart and my head from whatever you would say, choosing to paint your words as an annoying empty tune on repeat.

How things have changed; coming home is no longer complete without sitting in the kitchen with you, listening to you speak into my life. Speaking words of life, of hope, of strength, and of steel.

We have both come through the wars, and I see now that whatever semblance of 'strength' I can claim as my own, originated from you.

I salute you, and I honour your sacrifices, and I am forever in awe of your toughness and character.

Before our worlds end, I pray I make you proud.

Happy Mother's Day.

Point Of View

For those of you that have followed this blog for a while, you might recall there was a phase back in '09 where I was gloriously unemployed. I say 'gloriously' because while I did my best to find an employer that could use and abuse me, I often took a 'glass half full' approach to unemployment - after all, I was very comfortable at home, I got to work out three days a week, go jogging, blog incessantly and generally do whatever I wanted. Of course, eventually I got off my lazy butt and found a job, and soon all those other extra-curricular activities took a backseat.

It's the Sinhala and Tamil new year here, and as a result we're on holiday for a week. It's nice sitting at home and relaxing after a long time, without having to squeeze all my fun into a couple of days before setting off for work again. However, I was determined not to spend the entire holiday in front of my computer, so there has been a lot of time spent in front of the piano instead, the results of which I hope I will be able to post soon.

Yesterday, I decided to go on one of my infamous 'walks'; those hour or 90-minute long treks I used to go on during my stretch of unemployment. Kandy is famous for its hills, and the tiny lanes and twisting roads that wind up them, as well as the scattered housing perched almost precariously on the slopes. It makes for some very confusing driving, but it also makes for an excellent work out.

I used to have several routes, but yesterday I chose the hardest route, which includes a good 12-15 minutes of uphill jogging, followed by more climbing to a view point that looks over the city. I discovered all these lanes by pure chance back in the day, so it was refreshing to go along the old familiar route again. Of course, the scenery had changed somewhat.

Sounds like a name for some UNICEF project

I wonder if this wall belongs to Dilu, because that would make sense then

I somehow jogged to the top of the first crest with my lungs on fire and the blood pounding in my veins. I consider myself to be in somewhat decent shape, but jogging up that incline was something else. I can't remember whether I found it harder or easier than back in the day, but at that moment I didn't have enough blood reaching my brain to ponder. After finally catching my breath, I started climbing up the second half of the hill, a series of twisting lanes wide enough for just one vehicle at a time. Again, I was surprised to see how much had changed; the roads were tarred, and the edges were clearly marked for the novice driver, and a lot of houses which were under construction at the time were now beautifully done. Houses with a view no doubt command quite the price.

As I climbed higher, the light started to fade, and soon I noticed a few people staring curiously at this spectre in a white t-shirt and tracks walking up their lane in the half light, on the eve of the Sinhala and Tamil new year. I was not bothered, my ear phones were plugged securely into my ears and Incubus was keeping my thoughts company.

Almost there..

I kept climbing higher, anxious to reach my view point before it got too dark to enjoy it. Three years ago there were several places where I could see the city below but despite the improvements in the state of the homes here, the tall grass on the side of the road had gotten out of control, obscuring most of the view. After  40 minutes, I finally reached the top, tapped the light post like I always did, and took in the view of the Hill Capital.

Poor lighting; my phone camera did its best

The light was rapidly fading, and the cloud cover lent a very muted tone to the view, but it was still refreshing standing there, the cool breeze seeping through my drenched clothes as well as into my heaving lungs. The view was the same and yet so different from all those times I came up here so many years ago. The overgrown shrubbery, the newly painted walls and additional storeys all lent an alien feel to a familiar surrounding. 

I stood there for a good ten minutes, just taking in the view and trying to recall the thoughts that must have been in my head 3 years ago at this very point. I remember I used to wonder how it would feel to live here, on this mountain side with this view. I used to imagine designing a home, perhaps with my wife, many years in the future, and I distinctly remember thinking that the twisting lanes would deter friends from coming home for parties and meals. And imagine taking the kids to school! I doubt any school transport would come up that hill no matter how much I paid them...

I smiled to myself as I replayed these hidden discussions in my head now. How silly I was back then, planning and hoping for things I had no comprehension about. And yet, I am almost envious of that man, who was hopeful in his naivety. My thoughts last night were much more sober, and far less exciting. Just like the view, somehow I had changed despite remaining the same.

It had been a while since I had had time to myself, to clear my head and to air my thoughts. I swore to myself I would do it more often; I only hope I can live up to that promise.

My Chains Are Gone

Note: I seem to have forgotten to mention that this post is for Easter, a mistake I now regret. To everyone who celebrates it, I wish you all a Happy Easter. 

Amazing grace
How sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me
I once was lost, but now I'm found

Was blind, but now I see

'Twas grace that taught my heart to fear
And grace my fears relieved
How precious did that grace appear
The hour I first believed

My chains are gone
I've been set free
My God, my Savior has ransomed me
And like a flood His mercy rains
Unending love, Amazing grace

The Lord has promised good to me
His word my hope secures
He will my shield and portion be
As long as life endures

My chains are gone
I've been set free
My God, my Savior has ransomed me
And like a flood His mercy rains
Unending love, Amazing grace

The earth shall soon dissolve like snow
The sun forbear to shine
But God, Who called me here below
Will be forever mine
Will be forever mine
You are forever mine

Being Strong By Being Weak

As I type this post, the day is almost at an end. I've just got back from dinner and the gym (not in that order), and I feel very, very tired. It has not been a good day, or week for that matter. 

Let me start with the gym. Working out has become very taxing off late, not nearly the joy that it used to be a few years ago. My inability to stick to a routine and come regularly to the gym (because of work) has resulted in me losing all of the little muscle tone I had. I still go as often as I can, and it is a very humbling experience. I can no longer jog the same amount I used to as easily as before, nor can I lift the same weights I used to as easily. My body is noticeably weaker than it once was.

This brings me to my point - what is strength, really? Is emotional strength (or strength of character, or whatever you may choose to label it,) really something we can measure and quantify, or just a vague variable we assign ball-park measures to? What makes one person 'stronger' than the next?

I'm in my 27th year on this Earth, and I have to admit that ten years ago, I expected my 27 year old self to be in a better place, and to generally be 'better'. I always assumed I would have conquered my demons and elevated myself to the 'adult' plane, tackling 'adult' problems. Things like insurance, bank accounts, housing loans, taxes. Perhaps even a family.

Instead, I find myself in pretty much the same place I was a few years ago. I am still weak in the areas I was, still unable to deal with certain things, still unable to fix areas in my life that need fixing. Still struggling. 

But of late, I'm starting to look at it differently. There is a difference between the person I am now, and the person I was back then. It's not that I'm stronger, or wiser. The only difference I see is that now, I know my weaknesses. 

As I try to peer through the fog that seems to shroud my future, I find that I am not armed with many weapons to tackle the struggles I will inevitably come across. However, just like in basketball, sometimes a good offense is a strong defense. I know where I am weak, and my vulnerabilities. As much as I'd like to pretend I have thick skin now, my heart is still very much on my sleeve, and my emotions are far too close to the surface for comfort (a fact my discerning mother takes great pride in pointing out). Yet by acknowledging these weaknesses, I am better able to adjust to the inevitable hurt. If I'm to return to my gym analogy, by accepting that I am no longer as strong as I once was, I can in fact produce a more productive workout by lifting less, but lifting it correctly.

The next few weeks, and perhaps months, are going to be extremely difficult. The hurt that I will undoubtedly feel will be unbearable, and it will be, for the most part, constant. Things are going to get far worse before they get better. 

Yet, perhaps God, in His infinite and often indiscernible ways, has brought me through so much so that now, while I may not be the strong, stable, immovable rock I once envisioned I would be, I am finally fully aware of who I am as a person - the positives and negatives.

I am reminded of a passage from the New Testament where the apostle Paul in his letter to the Corinthians mentions a weakness in him that has bothered him for a long time like 'a thorn in the flesh', and how he had asked God many times to take it away from him. Paul never mentions what it is that he is struggling with, but God answers him and says "My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness."

As I read this passage, I try to claim it for my life, and I tell myself that while I am not strong enough to deal with the pain, the hurt and the struggles I will go through in the future, I can rest assured that I will bear witness to God's strength in my many areas of weakness.

Perhaps, sometimes, strength is a measure of your ability to admit your weaknesses.

Melomanic Musings

It's been a very busy week, and I haven't had time to blog about the Melomanic Sessions last Saturday. If you weren't there, you definitely missed out; this was only my second time but it was so refreshing to be part of a group of such talented musicians and singers (not forgetting the very appreciative and faithful crowd). A lot of credit has to go to CC and Asela for putting on a fantastic show; the stage layout was especially excellent (though the photographers were not so enthusiastic in their praise).

Since I'm late, let me link to a better review by T. Below are the videos for my set; we did a bit of everything, and overall I think it turned out alright, if I do say so myself.

It was a special night for me, personally, performing with my brother. I always enjoy it, as you can tell from the videos when I look at him and laugh after each song. We improvised on the fly for one of the songs, changing the ending at the performance itself for some reason, but I suppose that's all part and parcel of the 'live' experience. He did a stellar job, and I'm extremely proud of him.

Of course I have to mention how great CC was; his cover of Florence and The Machine's "Cosmic Love" is still getting rave reviews all over my Twitter and Facebook feeds.

So without further ado, here are the videos from the show. Hope you like them; do leave me some comments!

Shinedown - "If You Only Knew"



Pearl Jam - "Black"


Sting - "Fields of Gold"



Switchfoot - "Vice Verses"

In closing, let me just say something about "Vice Verses". I've always believed that singing words that you actually agree with brings more meaning and power in to a performance. Despite the song not going too well during our rehearsals, I was adamant that we do it because it was the perfect song for me and the situation I was (am) in. How often have I felt lost and confused, disillusioned by what I once thought was gospel, by what I once thought was infallible truth. As I sang "Where are you in my broken heart/ everything seems to fall apart/ everything feels rusted over/ tell me that you're there", it wasn't Jon Foreman's words coming out of my mouth, it was mine. 

It was a good night, and I am so, so grateful for opportunities like these where I can just 'sing out'. 

Again, if you missed out this month, I hope to see you the next time.

Before I go, let me leave you with this:

♫ I know that there's a meaning to it all,A little resurrection every time I fall.. ♫

"Mighty, Mighty" : The Power Of The Mob

It has been an unsettling couple of days in the city of Manipal, India. I use the term 'city' here very liberally however, as Manipal is more a student suburb, an elevated hamlet saturated with universities ranging from medicine to management to hospitality to engineering. The most famous of these are the Kasturba Medical College and the Manipal Institute of Technology; I was a proud student of the latter.

On the 10th of March, 21-year-old Ishan Nihalani, a second year engineering student suffered a serious head injury when he fell off the footboard of college bus on the way to class. Four days later, due to complications, he succumbed to his injuries. Immediately after this, the student council raised several issues with the director of the university, asking for disciplinary action against the reckless bus driver as well as to address the issue regarding the inadequate number of buses providing transport from the hostels to the university, a point which had been brought up repeatedly in the past. The MIT campus has banned all forms of private transport for the last 5-6 years, leaving students with only two options to get to class from their hostels - take the college bus or walk the 1.5km to 2km distance from the hostels to the classrooms. However, there are just not enough buses to accomodate all the students, a situation further exacerbated by the newly appointed director's decision to double the student intake of the college this year.

The details of what happened next are, at best, somewhat conflicting, but the consensus is that the director not only refused to acknowledge the role of the bus driver and the college in this accident, but instead laid the blame solely on the student for being late to class. If he had not been careless and had been on time, apparently, he would not have died.

This careless remark set off a riot among the student body, as grieving classmates and friends joined with agitated seniors to destroy property and then form a 2000 strong mob outside the university building, demanding the resignation of the director. Police were called in, as well as the Vice Chancellor of the university to negotiate with the student council and the director. After several hours, the Vice Chancellor appeared to the vocal mob, and announced that the director has resigned.

The video can be seen below.

It would seem unfathomable that the director of an educational institute would speak so flippantly regarding the life of one her students, but I for one am not at all surprised. Many times in my own experiences, the management and board of most large educational institutes in the Asian sub-continent view the student body as an agitated, lazy, undeserving collection of rich, spoilt children. Rarely do they see them as individuals who have specific needs and weaknesses, much less human beings eager to learn. An incident like this, no matter how innocent the victim, is immediately chalked up to negligence on the student's part, as the college does its best to wash its hands off from anything that besmirches the university's reputation, thus putting the names and jobs of the staff and faculty above the needs and rights of the students they teach.

This whole fiasco leaves me with very mixed emotions. On the one hand I'm disgusted that a person like the now former director of MIT could ever reach such an esteemed post while clearly having no connection with the student's that walk through her halls. This is not some petty revolt regarding raised hostel fees or some boycott of a campus club; this is the death of a student. But as I mentioned before, I am not at all surprised, for it seems that this sort of detachment is a prerequisite for the job. When I was in my second year, a senior had died in a car accident. When his friends approached the director at that time to inform the parents, he coldly picked up the phone in front of them, and said "Sir? Your son is dead, please come and collect the body."

On the other hand, I feel a great sense of pride in the student body at MIT. I don't condone violence or vandalism, and I have often denounced the petty protests that we had in college as being excessive (we once went on strike because the mess food wasn't tasty). But given these circumstances, I'll tell you now, I would have been right there in the middle of that crowd, chanting "Resign!" just like everyone else. I'm proud that for once, the students rallied together for a worthy cause, and for once, justice, however mediocre, was served.

We as Sri Lankans should take note of these events as well, for our universities are more famous for their protests and strikes rather than for any real academic achievements. In fact, the only times we hear of anything newsworthy from these bastions of local education is when some student is either ragged or if there is a strike by the student body. Ragging especially has only escalated in the last few years, with more students being physically and emotionally (and in some cases, sexually) abused while the perpetrators are allowed to go scot-free. No actions are taken to prevent these incidents, no one is held accountable, and the educational system of the country continues it's slow but steady decline. Somewhere, it has to stop, yet sadly the few academics who are genuine educators at heart are few and far between.

If you watched that clip, you can hear towards the end of it the vice chancellor imploring the students to please go back to class the next day, now that their demands have been met.

Wherever Ishan is, I'm sure he wishes that he could comply.

Brotherly Love*

How time flies, huh?

The day is almost done, but before it is I must give a 'shout-out' to my little brother, who just turned 20 and is not deserving of the title 'little' any more. Knowing him though, I'm not going to share this post on Facebook - I would lose a lot of points in his book for writing something as lame as this.

Twenty years. Man. I still  love telling the story of how when I was growing up, I told my parents I wanted a brother, simply because I was tired of playing alone. When they came home from the hospital with him, I was extremely disappointed. See, my 7-year-old mind didn't understand that he had to grow before he could 'play' - I just assumed he would be my age. I think my disinterest in the new addition to the family showed; my father was not pleased.

Seven years is quite a large age gap, and growing up we didn't always get along as brothers are supposed to. 

But as with most things in my life, I have often initially felt that the timing for something was inconvenient, only to realise later that the timing was perfect after all. Watching him grow, and teaching him things the few times I've been able to, has been such a joy. I watched him achieve things I never achieved when I was in school, excelling as a friend and a student, and I feel a special sense of pride. Pride and gratitude, that my fervent prayers for him were answered. 

Through everything that has happened,especially with my family over the last 5 years, he has been a special kind of strength for me. We are so similar, and so different at the same time, which is what makes us get along so well I suppose. He mirrors my love to have fun and fool around (I have never met anyone, not one person, that makes me laugh like he does), my love for basketball and the Celtics, as well as parts of my temper, yet he is ice-cool when I am emotional, laid back when I am tense, and always a complete idiot when I am trying to make a serious point. 

So here's to you, 'boss'. I love you with all my heart, and I promise to stand for you my entire life, as I know you will for me.

*"He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother" was too cliche, even for me

The Melomanic Sessions: A Brief Recap

So the Melomanic Sessions last Sunday at the Warehouse Project was fun! It was just a little over a couple of weeks back that Asela asked me to perform, so picking out a 3 song set was a bit more stressful than I would have liked. Still, after practising after work for a week, I felt somewhat confident turning up on Sunday.

The Warehouse Project is seriously the perfect location for a stripped down, acoustic show - especially considering that the warehouse itself has sections that are in various stages of being stripped down as well. The large open hall, the warm lighting and echo-filled acoustics are begging for nice, clean and precise music. We started a little late but not nearly as late as the earlier show, and by some luck of the draw I had been pencilled in to open the proceedings.

It was definitely a fun experience! Opening can be a bit of a curse however; I'm sure a majority of the audience completely forgot my performance after hearing the serious talent of our other guests. From original compositions to The Beatles to Live to Adele to The Cranberries, from pianos to guitars to flutes to cellos, there was no shortage of variety. I thoroughly enjoyed myself, and I say this not just because I was playing! In fact, once the pressure of performing was removed, I was able to sit back and really appreciate some great local talent.

I've yet to upload the videos for my performance but they should be up by the weekend. Unlike past videos, you'll (finally) be able to see me while I sing instead of my animated fingers and torso. Enjoy it while it lasts! Until then though I've attached the Soundcloud recording of the set, I hope you like it!

A couple of pictures from the show; all except the first picture courtesy of T.

Gehan's Set by themelomanicsessions 

Edit: Finally uploaded the videos, so linking them here.

 

Enjoy!