transitions
The time from May 2023 to May 2024 has passed by in a flash. It was not an easy year by any means. It was the most difficult one since more than a decade ago. However, recently on trips to many bodies of water on the southern and eastern coasts of Sri Lanka, I felt time stop––in a good way. I finally had time to think, even amidst all the Sinhala and Tamil New Year chaos, several writing deadlines, and pleasantries with friends. I thank Law and Order: SVU for keeping me company. Is it weird that I can play a crime TV show in the background and introspect?
I don’t want to write a lot because it’s Mother’s Day and Amma tells me that she often needs time to digest my posts. After all, my parents taught me English first, despite it not being the language they are most comfortable with.
Here are a few moments that made me think about transition deeply, accompanied by some photographs that are just okay. Nothing spectacular.
A rainy day in Colombo near a pool I was dying to jump into. Several heatwaves later, my friends and I did not expect a storm, but the raindrops on clear pool water were also nice. Colombo’s way of dealing with heat changes every year. Friends abroad are often surprised to hear that Sri Lankans used to never check the weather app. I have news: now we absolutely have to.
This congregation of goats in a village where many Sri Lankans affected by the 2004 tsunami were relocated. Hauntingly deserted because 20 years later, people have moved away, literally and metaphorically. We saw life in the form of goats everywhere, but this image stayed with me because their quest for shade, community, and food became too familiar as I learned of real moments of transition in the lives of those affected by the tsunami.
At a place of calm and quiet during the exhausting trip to the East. I forced my friend to photograph me because I was wearing hand-me-downs from two important women in my life. Idols, ideals, idealising, idolising, ideologies––all feel surreal as I hit my thirties in a deeply troubled world. Maybe it’s time to do something about it like them and my friend behind the camera did/do.
The best scented candle ever. I was gifted this in December last year but I started burning it in late March after taking a pivotal decision that I’m yet to see the consequences of. The candle is halfway burned, but my whole living room and workspace still smells beautiful and welcoming. It’s a dilemma: should I hold onto the jar? The gifter says it’s easy enough to replace, but is the sentiment replaceable?
