Drinking with Myself

illustration by Rory Kurtz

Yes, I’m you. Never mind the hair, you’ll get tired of losing that comb in it soon enough. I know the only bald guys you know are old buggers and Buddhist priests, but believe me, in about twenty years, it’ll be cool. Perfect timing.

This letter to 16-year-old-self shit would never have worked. I know you still write letters, but I don’t. The most is an email or sms. Yes, dude, I know you’ve never heard of these things, but you will in about ten years. Don’t worry about it now, it’s too complicated to explain. So let’s go for a drink instead. Why? ‘Cos I got tagged by DD and so here I am. DD’s a friend, you’ll meet him in ‘99 when you’re in advertising. Oh yes, you’re gonna be in advertising, believe it or not, you’ll never be RSM of the Commandos, sorry to break it to you. Don’t worry, you’ll take to it like RD to Lamprais. RD’s a blogger and– what–? A blogger is someone who has a blog which is a sort of– Look, will you shut the fuck up and get in the car? Yes, of course it’s mine. Jeez, what a twit.

This is the Sapphire, and that’s the Rosewood Bar. You’d have discovered it soon enough in a couple of years, so no harm done. Yes, it’s not cheap, but I’m paying. Remember this place. You’re gonna have a lot of fun here in about fifteen years.

I know you drink gin, and yes, I still do. But you’re gonna discover whisky when you can afford it, which won’t be very often, believe me. And no, you’re never gonna be rich unless you’re smarter with your money. Don’t ask me how that works, ‘cos if I knew I wouldn’t be drinking fucking gin.

OK, so I’m gonna give you some advice. I know you’re not gonna listen, but here it is, take it or leave it.

Lies and a Tiger — How a Diaspora is Killing its Own

Pro-LTTE demonstrations in Sydney (tamilsydneydotcom31/flickr)

As the war against the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam grinds inexorably towards certain defeat for the self-proclaimed representatives of the Tamil nation, there seems to be no great fanfare, no glorious last stands. This revolution dies not with a bang, but with whimpers and cowardice. And lies.

For a year the Tamil diaspora, spread from Tamil Nadu to Toronto, watched open-mouthed with disbelief as the iron fist of the Sri Lankan infantry divisions cut the Tiger formations to pieces, hammering them back into a tiny pocket close to Mullaitivu on the island’s northeastern coast. Now, as the world watches, a mortally wounded Tiger cowers behind the very people it claims to defend, mauling them as it dies.

As the pace of the offensive slows down in the heavily populated Mullaitivu District, the Tamil diaspora has finally found its voice, and a cause worthy of its outrage – the Tamil population of the Wanni, trapped in the fighting and suffering horribly. They lack everything human beings have a right to expect – food, shelter, clothing, security, life itself. If anything in the northeast is worthy of our attention, it is these people, held hostage by their proclaimed protectors, forced to face the guns and tanks of the SL Army in the cynical hope that if enough of them are killed or maimed, the world might step in and save the LTTE.

Tamil family sit by a trench in the LTTE-occupied No Fire Zone (Human Rights Watch)

The diaspora, organized and spurred by LTTE front organizations, chants its mantra of concentration camps and Sri Lankan government genocide of the Tamils, ignoring the fact that it is the LTTE, and not the government, that is holding the Wanni Tamils in these inhuman conditions. And like all human catastrophies, this one too, has spawned its celebrity hangers-on. First, Sri Lankan-born British rapper MIA, and now at the eleventh hour, Booker Prize-winning Indian author Arundhati Roy. These two individuals more or less represent the two strongest tones of voice we hear calling for a cessation of the Sri Lankan military offensive against the Tigers.

For This All that Blood was Shed

SL Army infantry in the Wanni (Defence.lk)

In the closing days of March and the first week of this month, April, the SL Army outflanked, cut off, and destroyed the Charles Anthony Regiment of the LTTE, in one of the most decisive battles of the war. For almost a year, the SL Army, sweeping across the Wanni from west to east, had attempted to pin down the LTTE and cause it significantly large casualties. However, the ever elusive Tigers have always prefered to slip away when outflanked, rarely allowing themselves to be trapped in large numbers, sacrificing rearguard units so that the larger forces could escape. While the casualties came in trickles, the jugular sought by the military high command was not forthcoming. Thus, the encirclement and destruction of the Charles Anthony at Aanandapuram, east of Puthukkudiyiruppu, could be celebrated as a memorable victory for the SL Army.

However, what makes this defeat a catastrophic one for the LTTE is the
fact that along with the Charles Anthony went almost every remaining unit commander of the LTTE, and many of their deputies as well. In a stroke, the Tigers have been virtually emasculated. The fact that the GoSL has now declared a 48-hour ceasefire over the Buddhist and Hindu New Year, is indicative of the SL Army’s confidence in defeating the LTTE in a matter of weeks rather than months.

On March 30th, elements of the SL Army’s 53rd and 58th divisions and Task Force 8 advanced out of Puthukkudiyiruppu in a pincer movement intended to outflank the Charles Anthony Regiment which held the eastward-running Puthukkudiyiruppu-Iranappaalai-Puthumaathalan road. A brigade of the 58th Division swung east and then south, while another from the 53rd, along with TF8, commanded by Col GV Ravipriya, attacked east and then north; both pincers meeting at Pachaipullumottai junction in the rear of the Charles Anthony. The Tigers fought fiercely to prevent the encirclement, but were overwhelmed. Lt Col Gopith, CO of the Charles Anthony and his 2/ic Amuthab were killed on the 31st, and demoralised and leaderless, the Tiger troops were encircled. Outnumbered nearly ten to one, over a thousand Tigers faced almost 10,000 troops of the 4th, 6th, 8th, 12th, 14th and 20th Gajabas, the 11th and 20th Light Infantry, the 5th Vijayabahu Infantry, and the 9th Gemunu Watch. Also in action was the SL Army’s elite special operations forces — elements of the 2nd Commandos and the 1st Special Forces.

Secret Agent Needle Bawa 006.5

I normally can’t be arsed blogging about the idiots I come across daily in the SL blogosphere. But in this case, I think I’ll make an exception, mostly because it’s a sort of public service.

I noticed quite a few bloggers seem to be worried at the Bond-like abilities of Nibras Bawa. He doesn’t seem to have any of Bond’s charms, and only half the wit, but his all-seeing gaze, via the London Met, seems to have scared the crap out of a lot of you.

Well, fear not, Bawa’s just got his bawa in a knot. You see, ol’ RD, being the gentleman that he is, actually mailed Nibbsy from his business mail. And Nibbsy, brainiac that he is googled RD’s office — voila, Bondish, eh? All RD’s info is on his business website. So Nibbsy doesn’t have x-ray vision, or a direct line to Gordon Brown, it seems. Pretty much clear now why he got poor ol’ DeeCee mixed up in this (though she’s not old actually).

Now, NB, pay attention. It’s time you behave. You see, as you yourself pointed out, no one’s really smart enough. And it’s pretty easy to get your phone numbers, fax, home addresses, your mum’s mobile number, your business partners’ and clients’ email addresses, etc. We wouldn’t want Shehla hearing about all this, would we? Also, it’ll be embarrassing if those grovelling ‘brotherly’ mails you sent to RD were to appear all over kottu.

So back the fuck off and we’ll forget about you soon enough. Remember the Maharaja of Sad — no? Neither do we. If not, you just might remember me for all the wrong reasons.

Oh, and btw, do you realize you’re cross-eyed?

Silver Dagger

The beautiful off-the-cuff rendition of the old ballad Silver Dagger was the final punch of a strange evening. I had stood there for about an hour, before she came on, feeling intensely out of place, drinking arrack and beer, and smoking to keep my hands occupied.

I listened to the people at the mike, laughed with some, and laughed at others, wondering why. I didn’t disagree with their words, just with them. There was something slick about it all, like a revolution with no plan. Like a silver dagger. I wanted to give in to the anger then, the Spartan shield I’d used for many years, shake my head and walk away. But I couldn’t. I didn’t think they were wrong. But they didn’t understand, and frankly, neither did I. Maybe that was why someone suggested I should take the mike and say something on behalf of MR, and another that I should read out a bit of the constitution. It pissed me off, but I laughed it away. Fuck ‘em. They were Sri Lankan, but they weren’t Sri Lanka. And again, just like me.

It reminded me once more that I was still an outsider, that I’d stepped out of this world for a short time, years ago, and somehow, my spot had filled in again while I was away, like footprints in the surf, and I couldn’t get back in. I was born here, in this city, like most of them. I spoke Sinhalese better than a lot of them, and English better than many of them. I liked music, and pretended I understood art. Just like them. I wanted change in my country, just like they did. But I wasn’t them, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to be again.

Guinness Record for Breathing Non-Stop for 24 Hours

Suresh Joachim, minutes away from breaking the ironing world record at Shoppers World Brampton.

Today’s Daily Mirror has lots of important stuff on the front page. An account of the Tiger suicide bomber who blew herself up yesterday, a rogue’s gallery of the LTTE top brass, Gota’s warning to the NGOs — all interesting newsworthy column space. And this piece on a new Guinness World Record set by Sri Lankan-born Suresh Joachim. Now if you’re expecting some death-defying feat of incredible physical stamina, don’t hold your breath — though maybe you should give it a shot, as you’ll probably break a record. Suresh has set a GWR for watching TV nonstop for 72 hours in Stockholm. I expect that being in Stockholm isn’t necessary to qualify you for this, though perhaps Swedish TV’s more interesting than ours.

Now, I’m not sure about you, but I bet I’ve equalled that record a few times in my life, along with the GWR for the longest continuous loop of Hell Freezes Over.

Before you start patting Suresh on the back for being Sri Lanka’s most celebrated couch potato, I hope you’ll realize that you’re way too late. Last year, he and German Claudia Wavra watched movies for 123 hours and ten minutes. I have no idea what Claudia looks like, but I assume they were German movies in tiny backstreet Hamburg cinemas.

Resolve

RD tagged me. Again.

Like the drummer himself, I’m not one for resolutions. Usually I find myself not being very introspective at this time of the year. Planning out my life isn’t a strongpoint either. So all in all, resolutions seem a waste of time.

Last year, however, I did make two, and failed at them both. So this year, I’m not going to be so specific. I’ll also have just one. This isn’t really a resolution, and definitely not a new year one. But since I was asked, I’ll pretend it is.

I resolve to be better than I am – to be more caring, responsible, healthy, creative, loving.

So This is Christmas…

…And this year I…

Started a blog.

Got divorced (nothing to do with the blog).

Spent far too little time with my son (but enjoyed every moment of that time).

Tried to give up smoking (and failed).

Was happier than I’ve been in ten years.

Was sadder than I’ve been in my whole life.

Didn’t write my second novel.

Discovered how valuable friends are.

Caused more pain & heartbreak than can be forgiven.

Had a lifetime of selfishness catch up with me and break my heart.

Took a good hard look at myself and decided I didn’t like what I saw.

Started to change what I didn’t like.

Started to hate my job.

Started to enjoy my job.

Moved back with my parents.

Realized I didn’t have a lot to show for thirty-seven years.

Began to realize that maybe it doesn’t matter.

All in all, it’s been one of those milestone years in my life. Perhaps the most important one of all. I hope it’ll change me for the better. I’ll let you know next Christmas.

I’m tagging Indi, Noorie,and Ravana. Any non-bloggers, please feel free to just add your lists in the comments section.

Doing an RD, my way

So as the sun went down, he stood there on the balcony and had one last cigarette. It was time to go. The last boxes had been packed up and carried down to the car. The flat seemed suddenly so empty, as if it had been cleared out in minutes instead of a weekend. Empty of everything but memories. So many memories. Some were so heartbreakingly beautiful it made his breath catch on the smoke, and others were just… well, heartbreaking.

The flat had been home to so many of his thoughts, just as it had been the first real home of his very own as an adult. No parents, no wife, no fellow soldiers — his alone. He’d never considered Army barracks really home — just a place to sleep while doing other things. And when he’d been married, the home was really his wife’s, reflecting her personality. When he left, it wasn’t really a home he had left, it was her.

The apartment had been truly his. Chosen by him. It had seen his absolute joy and utter despair. All in less than two short years.

He drags on the Pall Mall and looks out over the wall to the neighbour’s garden, and remembers the first day he walked out onto the balcony with his girlfriend and marveled at the cool green wall of trees that divided the two properties and shaded the building. It had been a new beginning for him, a fresh chance of happiness. Every corner of the flat reminded him of her. He saw her touch on everything, her voice in every room. He remembered how happy they had been and smiled in spite of himself. But the flat was also touched by his betrayal now.

I’ve Never

I’m actually not too happy that DD tagged me on this. Frankly, I’m never happy with this tagging, because it makes me reveal a more personal side of me than I am comfortable doing on a blog. However, lately my blog’s become a bit more personal than was planned, so I think I’ll do it. I started this last week, but it got too depressing, so I scrapped it and restarted.

I’VE NEVER…

…spoken the words “I love you” to my parents.

…been to India.

…picked up a girl in a bar.

…been very patient.

…learned to parachute.

…seen a shark.

…been shot.

…liked hoppers.

…enjoyed a play.

…been really brave.

…been responsible.

…learned to play a musical instrument.

…been able to sing well.

…backed down from an argument.

That’s all for now.