life goes on amid the crisis

When I came out of the arrivals door of Bandaranayake Airport, Sisira was there to take me home. Sisira had been my (un)official driver, for last few years. First he was the driver for me when I used to go to Shangri-la coworker space, called Connect, during the power cuts. I am back in my paradise with all the love, care, sunny days one can ask for. 

Last time, when I was leaving Sri Lanka, fuel shortage was in its worst. Even by the noon of the day, I didn't know how I am travelling to Airport. When I call Sisira, his wife mentioned that Sirira went in search of fuel and didn't hear from him since then. Actually, he couldn't make it and couldn't take me to the Airport. He wasn't feeling good since he couldn't keep his word. As a matter of fact, he is punctual and keep to his word. Anyway, I gave one of the whiskey bottles I bought from duty free shop to Sisira.

Same day that I came to Sri Lanka, Channa's exhibition commenced at Barefoot Gallery. Visiting the Barefoot Gallery was a good refreshing start for my next leg in Sri Lanka. After the exhibition we all spent time talking at Barefoot. We enjoyed special tea made of condensed milk call Kade Tea (කඩේ තේ). That's one of our favourites. 

Sri Lanka was still in economic crisis. I really couldn't comprehend the real effect for the day-to-day life of the community. Most of the young crowd was planning to leave the country. Middle class had to cut down their recreational budget and lower class it was a struggle for survival. 

As my friend Niro is a DJ, he is keeping in touch with local trends, in terms of music, in local night life. Under current economic crisis, it was evident Colombo social life was affected too. Once we hit a famous night club and we realized by midnight, it was only us in the club. Top on that its a Friday! 

My memory goes back to twenty plus years.. where we all bachelors meet at Deli market of WTC and start roaming under covers of darkness of Colombo for drinking and partying.. one of our usual places was Rhythm and Blues club in Colpetty. As I write this I try to contemplate where those guys would be now.. Michael, Dakshina, Nilantha, Roshan, Niroshan.. They all are scattered in many regions of the world with their own struggles of life. Today we all have nostalgia for those days.

Christmas party with embarrassment

Though I am a member of SLSAC I don't know many of other members so didn't have much plans to go to the Xmas party. Anyway, Imran, who is an office bearer of the club, called and insisted me of participating the Xmas party. Not only that, he wanted me to be the photographer of the event which I kindly declined saying only if party happens underwater!

Party was fun and I was having a good time. Among the different people I met at the party was a young dude call Sanjeewan. He said he is from Baitcalloa and doing many ocean conservation projects.. bal..bla.. and he was a research assistant for famous marine biologist Asha. Anyway this guy was full of energy and enthusiasm so I got his phone number thinking it might be a good connection to have while I am also involved in maritime stuff here and there.

Once I left the party, drunken of course, I was reversing my car in pitch dark through the narrow lane in Mount Lavinia, which is the entry to the party venue, car banged into something! Ooh..shit, I had hit a jeep. Then I got down to see the damage and noticed jeep has a number plate of eastern province. Then I realized there cant be many attendees from east. I was correct, its Sanjeewan's jeep. 

I ended up meeting him to say what just happened, utterly embarrassed and ashamed of myself. To my surprise, he wasn't worried about the damage but worried about me driving back since I was drunken. I promised him that I am going to pay the damage by any mean he wants and he wasn't seemed to care much.

Next couple of weeks I gave quite a few calls to Sanjeewan and noticed he is not keen on telling the damage or how he gonna fix it. Most of all, I realized, my calls seemed to be bothering him than the accident itself. So I told him I wouldn't trouble him calling again but whenever you fix it please tell me the cost, as a favor, which I want to pay.

Guess what, still I didn't get that call!

Catching up with good old friends

When you get old, you start think of younger yourself and feel emotional of what happened in distance past. May be due to that reason I too was thinking more of my schooling time recently. I wasn't that fortunate with many catchups, dinner dances and what-not happened in Sri Lanka in last few years due to my nomadic life. Always something cool happens, I am out of the country. 

One of the best get-to-gathers ever done by OBA, was done in 2018. By then I was in Sri Lanka full time working for a local company in Colombo. So I was sure that I can attend to the extravaganza at last, but for some fateful reason I was assigned to make a visit to London for an official meeting in the same day. Not only I missed the great time of catching up with old dudes, my business trip too was one of the hateful ones I have ever done since the company I worked was a mess with micro politics and incubator for negative energy! I have never seen such egoistic youngsters in my life than the team I had to lead.

Whatever said and done, this year I had all the luck in catching up with many old friends starting from School friends to many other gangs I was in my younger days. Asitha's trip to Sri Lanka was extra special since it gave us the room to spend a quality time with my closest friends and their families. It was quite a realization that how far we have come since the times we shared a tea at famous Salgado bakery at Maradana.

Also had the chance to meet, sing and laugh about all the university time crazy things with those mates and Prof. Premadasa who was one of the great mathematicians I had the rare privilege of being a student. Professor is now living in United states and I saw him at least after a decade.

Apart from my own neighborhood, I was included a gang at Kotte which started as an environmental organization. That was a youthful life we spent mostly hanging around Sri Jayawardenapura marshes. Some days ended with a naked swim at Diyawanna Oya. To be exact it can be more than dipping into water but playing a game which should be called Water Rugby. As you may be guessing its a kind of Rugby play in water. Your guess is correct with one more addition, someone's underwear was used as the ball ! Obviously, after the game that underwear can only be worn by incredible Hulk!

Not all acts ended well. Apart from narrow escapes from Police arrest, one such excursion lead me to infect leptospirosis which I barely survived due to early diagnosis by our family doctor (Dr. Pani Somarathne) who knew about my wild life. Trade off was periodic administration of painful quantity of anti-biotics at Sri Jayawardenapura hospital. I can remember I was looking at Diyawanna Oya through the windows of the hospital.

So reunion of this group after a couple of decades came as the cherry on the top. 

Night at Magul Maha Viharya

I was itching to spend more time in outdoors yet my work and family commitments wasn't very helpful. Among a couple of short excursions, one I liked most was Sithulpawwa one. On our way, we saw an Eagle hit by a lorry in the southern highway. We managed to catch the bird carefully which was still in good shape, but shocked with the impact. Then we handed over to the Wildlife office in Angunukolapelessa. 

Sithulpawwa ancient site was frequently visited by few wild elephants who seems to have fed by people in the temple. This had raised some tension in between temple and Wildlife department. That's because domesticating wild animals usually doesn't end well for both animals and people. 

We also spent one night in near by Magul Maha Vihare site and it was a memorable one. Spotting a leopard on the way was a bonus.    

Taprobane East Wreck

I couldn't do much diving either, due to different other commitments. Anyway, a couple of good pictures taken in Unawatuna, Hikkaduwa and Colombo made the season productive. By the end of the season, I dived one Ship wreck, with unknown origin, in the coast of Colombo Called Taprobane East Wreck. It was a surrealistic experience in terms of great visibility and beauty. It reminded me of the beauty in Hollywood movie shot in Caribbean. All the divers, including a couple of divers from Australia and Europe was speechless after the great experience. 

Replica of Degaldoruwa Temple painting

I am a big fan of classic temple paintings, particularly ones done in Kandian era. For last few years I was searching for a good one to buy. Problem I saw in painters I met lately was they use bright colors which completely jeopardies the idea. At last, I met one painter at George Kyet open air art exhibition who seems to be doing a great job. Dhammika and his wife Anusha both are great painters. I was sure I met the right artist for the assignment and requested to undertake it. As per this writing, Painting is still being done. I once visited Dhammika's residence at Polgahawela where Channa had a good look at the half-done painting and gave some advises. 

All this Painting saga reminded me of my time at George Kyt foundation exhibition as a young painter about 20 years ago and that's where I met Channa in person. After a couple of decades I was visiting the same exhibition with Channa in search of a suitable Painting to buy.

Just before leaving the country I, with my family, spent one weekend in Galle Forte which I consider as the best place on earth. When I am in Australia I buy Lotto (i.e. Lottery) once in a while and was dreaming of buying a house in Galle Fort, in case of winning one. As per this writing, I didn't win a lottery! Still doesn't stop me visiting the Forte frequently. Among many beautiful shops and restaurants, we visited one extra ordinary Art Gallery called Lanka Living Gallery. This artist of Norwegian origin is living in Sri Lanka photographing uncommon beauty within most common and abandoned things he see. His work attracted us. Simplicity of his work surprised us.  

Heading back to Australia

I was consulting to Western Australian Government agency for a digital transformation and always managed to play different tricks to work from Sri Lanka without going onsite. By April 2023, it was evident that I need to visit them to engage with them in person. Australia was shaken by a couple of serious cyber attacks/ data breaches and protocols of accessing data was tighten. In my project I was the only person who access government data from a different country. I flew to Perth just before the Sinhala New Year, but very reluctantly. 

It was like I plan to stay late autumn and winter in Australia. That means no diving which is sad. Anyway, I started exploring my usual hotspots like Fremantle, Rottnest etc. I did a solo bicycle ride around Rottnest island in one good sunny day. By the evening I was just walking in a jetty where I saw some kids in the water were excited with sudden appearance of a stingray. Something told me stingray would go passing the jetty and thought of capturing a photo. Assumption was correct and I clicked it. Angel of the evening sunlight on surface surge of water added a beautiful texture just like a strokes from a brush with oil paint on it!

I did a couple of excursions and hikes to nearby places, just because I was lonely. One day myself, Murali and his son Thushar did a decent walk in Perth Hills region which is around Armadale area. On our way, we ended up being uninvited guests of a small community event. There we were served some hot tea, which I was itching for, due to cold surrounding. In the gathering, we had the pleasure of enjoying a Didgeridoo performance by a friendly elderly couple. We also met a lady along with her daughter playing very rare kind of musical instruments collected from very different regions of the world. Among them I noticed instruments similar to native American instruments and also one we find in Sri Lanka like Thawalampota (තවලම්පොට). This lady explained us how she use these music sessions to heel mental stress of listener. I tried a couple of drums and already felt great.  

Staying alone in a city like this also gave me chance to interact with so many different people from different countries, different stages of life and with different expectations. Among the interesting characters was a Afghan doctor who just came to Australia to settle. He doesn't know at least how to heat a readily cooked meal. I offered some rice and curry yet he didn't have much desire for that. There was a lady from Singapore who handed over all her assets to her daughter she raised as a singe mother and planning to have a new independent life in Australia. Some backpackers were from Italy, Netherlands and Germany. 

Afghan doctor once asked me a serious question which I didn't know the answer. "In Afghanistan our leaders or people are not educated. Leaders are more like tribal leaders. So plight of Afghanistan is something I can understand, but Sri Lanka has a high literacy rate and educated community.. so how Sri Lanke ended in this unfortunate situation " Do you know the answer?

I met one Sri Lankan guy, called Fancis, who work in a mining town in outback, thousands of kilometers away from a city. People who work in such remote places get one week paid holiday every 2-3 weeks. This is called FIFO (Fly In, Fly Out) jobs. When Fancis come to city he spends all his time making a distinct kind of Sinhala rap songs. When I say distinct, content of those songs are drugs, sex and some restlessness. Bohemian is a understatement. Song lyrics are nothing but filth. Obviously no media will accept those so he load them into Spotify. I spent a couple of evenings with Francis having a drink, and mostly "smokes" of all kinds. Even in that time he, along with some friends, were planning a music video to be shot using a hired yacht along with sexy models. He also mentioned how he lived in the car once, after dumping all his money to produce music videos.

This time room I stayed had a television which had only two channels. When I switch on the TV, late night, just before sleep, most of the time I see Anthony Bourdain's Parts Unknow, a travel documentary series focus on culinary practices, culture and communities of different countries. I always liked the carefree manner Anthony Bourdain presents a show. As a matter of fact, he was a great success in media than as a chef. His life shows he has been a carefree guy always. In contrary, I observed his search for life. Anyway, I cant digest what drove him to a suicide. Perhaps, I expect him to say the reason in his very voice! 

I thank Anthony Bourdain , for keeping me company in lonely winter nights. 

I am going home soon!

Uncertain times in an isolated city

In early 2020, I was in Sri Lanka with family enjoying all the comforts I can ask for. Not to say, while it was the west coast season, I also explored few shipwrecks in the coast of Colombo and Galle. One of the dive buddies I dived with in Colombo was Simon Lorenz; I only realized later that he is a renowned Underwater photographer. He was kind enough to give me some valuable advises during dives.

While I was in Sri Lanka, one of my friends back in Australia, Kin, called and asked me to bring some groceries like rice etc. on my way back. This was a complete joke for me. Who is going to bring such rations from Sri Lanka to Australia! Then I left to Perth in mid-March and realized how true the advice given. Australia was in complete jeopardy and super market aisles were just deserted. Nothing to buy! It was the time I realized the seriousness of Corona outbreak. Within a couple of days all the airports of Australia were shut, followed by Sri Lanka. Now I am stranded in Perth, most isolated city in the world!

Before leave Sri Lanka I promised my family that I would see them every other month and stop this nomadic life for good by end of the year. Fulfilling that promise was impossible with the Covid-19 restrictions around international flying throughout the globe. Especially, Australia enforced a law, restricting international travels, which was the only democratic country to impose such a law. My mind started to go a rollercoaster ride. One day I am good and next day I am so down, even the best coffee or beer couldn’t fix. 

Western Australia is not a good place for me to get stranded in many ways. I didn’t have many friends or family. It’s not a big city like Sydney (or even Melbourne), where you have many things to do, but beaches and outdoors. There is a sunny side of the story. Since it’s an isolated place, managing of virus spreading was quite successful (as this writing). This gave me enough freedom to go out. Most importantly, my client wanted my consulting service to continue. Therefore, income source was there, which is a great relief. 

I also thought of using the time wisely, even in tough circumstance. Therefore, I started learning everything I was curious about, from forex trading to Yoga and what not. Started reading all the books from the best seller list, those I could find from library. Visited museums again and again. 

I was tired of my own cooking some days and used to visit a Pasta place, ironically, ran by an Indian couple. They used to make especial one for me with many spices, a lot of them! Pasta – a south Asian style!

I became a frequent visitor in few coffee shops. In my local coffee shop I used to spend a lot of time, I met a mother and a son who became friends with me. Mothers’ name is Anna and son is Antonio. Antonio was my elder daughter’s age and he plays soccer. They usually visited the coffee shop on their way back from practices. He used to show me some pictures of his soccer moments and I showed my family photos back in Sri Lanka. Both mum and son was having an empathy on my situation. 

Beach became my other place of refuge in summer. Whether I plunge into water or just spend time onshore, salty air and easy going beach dwellers made me feel better. As I mentioned in my previous article in diving in cold waters, you cant just jump into the Indian ocean around Western Australia. Dangerous shark encounters were so frequent. Unfortunately, some were fatal. So its a matter of learning the shark sightings before heading to the beach if you wish to get wet.

Some evenings I spent hours and hours looking at the Sunset above the Indian Ocean from Hillarys Harbor. I was emotionally contemplating my home is just other side of this mass of water. Then I was thinking something crazy. Perhaps I can sail back to Sri Lanka in a boat! How much it will cost to jump into a team of adventurers who would sail towards south Asia. It shouldn’t be hard finding a gang with such a crazy plan in Western Australia. If I do that, I will be the first person to enter Sri Lanka illegally from Australia in a boat! In addition, J. P Obeysekera’s (Siva Obeysekera’s husband) adventurous flight came to my mind. When passenger flights came to halt due to outbreak of World War II, he did a solo flight from London to Sri Lanka. Then I realized I don’t have courage, grit, wealth and anything J P Obeysekera had in 1948, though we share the same surname for some stupid reason and I am nobody!

One guy I spent more time with is Murali who recently migrated to Perth and happened to work with me. Soon we became close friends. His sense of humor is remarkable. Most importantly his family, wife and son, too became close with me making it inviting to visit his place and have fun-filled time. They not only welcome me but soon considered me part of family. 

When his wife and son coming from India to join him, I asked you should be happy and excited to have them with you isn’t it.

Murali: Yep, Kind of..

Me: Isn’t it excited man. you were alone all this time

Murali: You should understand Sume… Not that exciting since its same wife and same son.. 

So, I am not telling he is full of humor without a reason.

Other one is Kuldeep, who is an Indian-Australian who is one of my flat mates. He is a good companion and got many stories to share with me. His biggest issue in the pandemic times too was the travel ban since he used to travel to Thailand a couple of times a year. That is his way of rejuvenation in life. He is passionate about perfumes! He knows a lot about it and maintain a massive collection of expensive perfumes. If he says about any interesting incident of his life, say dating a girl, he relates it with the perfume he was wearing. Quite unorthodox, isn’t it? Kuldeep’s passion actually infected to me too! Guess what, I ended up having few expensive perfumes from Giorgio Armani, Dolce and Gabbana etc. Perhaps, his passion flooded into me, but no other way around. He never join me in plunging into ocean!

I call my shared accommodation, a crazy place. People in this place belong to many different time zones. When I get up in the morning, I can see a guy just finishing his dinner after spending entire night playing computer games. There is another lady who wakes up at noon and start preparing the breakfast. I am actually thinking why I am not moving out of this mess.

Probably, part of me enjoyed the freedom came bundled with craziness. Rule of thumb in this house is, you don’t need to worry about others. No laws! Mates come at any time – go at any time – make noise even in the middle of the night – you hear others response saying f*ck off. Good thing about this place is I could wear my sarong and do whatever I want. Fry dry fish and make entire premises smelly. Thanks god – no law!

Anyway, this craziness wasn’t without any heaty situation in-between mates. One South American guy started to steal the stuff, actually beer, to be exact. First I ignored missing a beer or two occasionally. I learned this has been happening to others as well. One day, I came after something and really wanted to have a beer and found all in my shelf was gone. I was bloody angry and screamed at everybody in my best Mariyakade language (මරියකඩේ බාසාවෙන්), in English of course. Following day, as a revenge, Kuldeep had thrown some drinks from that South American bastard. Obviously, he thought its me. Then he got angry and openly threatened all. Anyway, it was evident, he was targeting me. What I learned later on was, he is highly addicted to alcohol and unpredictable once boozed. Then came the times I sleep, keeping my diving knife under my pillow. 

Now I am stranded in a faraway country; plus.. Got an in-house enemy to survive from!

Journalism and being the second vulture

This is Kevin Cater’s most disturbing and award winning photo, which should be named as the photo of the century. More than the photo itself, Carters life and death come to my mind time to time. It is the ultimate tragic story of mankind… his death is a monument to the tragedy of replacing the human means with materialized objectives.

As a photo journalist he managed to capture the baby and vulture correctly in his camera. He did it, because that was his assignment there. He won the Pulitzer Prize for feature photography for his work. When thousands of people who were disturbed with the photo ask what happened to the child Carter didn’t have an answer. Then only it was realized that he just concentrated on taking the photo, but not helping the dying child. Also Carter had told his colleagues that he had been waiting to see if vulture would spread the wings; which would have given chance to a better photo! Later on Carter committed suicide by carbon monoxide poisoning.

Carter’s story just highlights the tragic of forgetting the primary responsibilities of a man.  Before you become a photographer, before you become a journalist you are a man and that’s never changed. You are not paid for that… you are not honored for that, but that’s the responsibility carry on your shoulder when you are born.

One critique on Carters photo redefined photographer as the second vulture in the scene. It is not unfair at all. Vulture in the photo is an opportunistic bird, and so is the photographer in that occasion. What is the difference….?

In context of Sri Lanka, we see propagating a lot of web media that reports and analyze social issues to gossips. In spite of the debut of credibility of some such media, we also find it difficult to understand the vision behind some of the reporting. When we had the war, of course we had to hear the bitter news of human deaths in day to day basis. Now war is over and we don’t need to hear those, unless as a news. When it is a brutal killing or raping happen, some media seems to be doing a good job by giving them a massive publicity… In most cases, like Kevin Carter’s photo, there seems to have had two (probably more) vultures by the name of journalism.

How many lives we actually got?

When discussing above post with someone, it raised us to the discussion of role of a photo journalist.  Some conclusions, more or less, were as below.

“What else photo journalist could do than taking the photos. He is not there to do the job of a welfare worker”

Then my mind raised the question to me. Then why Kevin got depressed by the comments. Why people around world kept on asking whether he helped the poor girl. This is a serious question to me. This puzzle drags me to think deeper about definitions of each role we play in life.

Sometimes we are pleased to say that we had to do something according to my profession. As a journalist I had to report that. As a soldier I had to kill. As a politician I had to decide that way. As a scientist I had to create an effective bomb. If you believe in God, what is the life you carry in your shoulders when you meet him? Can you exclude your professional life? Can I justify a crime by explaining it in terms of my profession? Is there any limit of this?

After 9/11 CIA hired two psychologists (i.e. Bruce Jessen and James Mitchell) to train UA servicemen on effective torturing methods, known as SERE programme, which is even against the Geneva conventions. May be Bruce or James could think, professionally they had to do that. Most of all, society accepts them not like a killer works under labelled terrorist organization.

This is a big question in my mind. I think “professional” label is another myth implemented by post capitalist system to justify something unethical. I know a chemist who work for manufacturing company of Baby oils, but never use them for her babies since they are bad for health. She was kind enough to tell all the friends not to use those kinds of oils. Anyway, “Professionally” she is making them for thousands of other babies... All other professionals too are to do these kinds of justified jobs.

In today’s context we even say you should not mixed up professional life and day-to-day life. This sounds like, what we do as “professionals” will be not be tolerated by the values of a day-to-day life that believes in mankind and humanity. Is it?

From recent years I have been thinking of unified systems as an answer for these contradictions of life. Though, I am not a historian, I am pretty sure ancient civilizations didn’t work with categorised objectives as we do today. Each ones goal is to be inter-connected. In Sri Lankan context, I believe ancient farming or manufacturing didn’t raised problems of environment. Can we claim a massive structure like Sigiriya would have destroyed the adjoining surroundings or its lives? I guess this harmony should have been same for all other early civilizations.

Today, Banker is interested in cash circulation and farmer is interested in fertile lands. Power generating companies interested only in generating power, but not the environmental pollutions. Environmentalists too are programmed to go against each and every development plan without knowing how their houses are provided with power and how their vehicles are supplied with fuel.

This funny system recalls me of my wedding! Photographer just wanted to have most successful photo sessions. Dress maker wanted to make a success by producing best bride and that’s her aspect of wedding. She was not interested in anything else than that. DJ wanted to make it a big music extravaganza and decorators wanted to bring most beautiful flower arrangements under this sun and moon. Individual goals seemed to be over ruling the main objective sometimes. Ultimately, I and my wife were the only people who wanted a successful wedding.

Even under this situations, sometimes some people work according to the call of their hearts.  I can recall two simple experiences I came across. When we head to tsunami affected areas in 2004 in Sri Lanka to help people, my friend, obsessed photographer, Roshan came without a camera which surprised me. He simply said “we are going to help people aren’t we?” Second occasion was.. my cousin, Kasun gave up aeronautical engineering after spending successful years in university, when he learnt all the leading researches are focused on advancement of fighter jets but not passenger planes.  In both occasions, they could have done the opposite since they have been justified by the civilization. Anyway, their hearts might have given a different judgement.

If we turn back to Kevin’s story, he should have had a struggle on his stance.  If he was a super product of post capitalist monetary system he shouldn’t have suffered from depression. If he was a super product of humane purity, he shouldn’t have left the toddler along with the vulture. Kevin’s tragic story can be quote close to our story also. Have to be wise when working with so called “professionalism” comes bundled with requirements of monetary system, not the requirements of mankind.

For me I have only one question. There are no many lives called professional life, family life and etc... I got only one life. Question is whether I live it truthfully to my heart or not.

My father's demise

My father died!

Someone who survived from three heart attacks & a stroke, then stayed for number of years very happily with the family should be a lucky person, still our selfishness, bond or love don't let us accept even a simple truths of the life.. I simply couldn't accept this… I was waiting him to come up again with his so refreshing smile!

 

Ending of his life too was very smooth as well as his actions in the day to day life… He was so simple & very realistic with the expectations, but very rigid with the policies. He stayed according to a Buddhist life rules, but never rush to Temples or believed much about hell or heaven. I think, he believed in what he sees & feels; what is good & bad for his senses.

 

I think, the poem below written by my bappa (Mr. Sunil Perera, UK) reveals some of his characteristics very well.. this was posted by him on my father's one of the last birthdays..

 

 

About one & half years back, he was so sick with a stroke & a heart failure at the same time. He was so sick & was just lay on the bed for couple of weeks without any sign of a life. We were so helpless and waiting for miracles. Even when he was brought back to home, he was just a lifeless person who didn't talk or show any emotion. After all the attempts to make him talked, we tried to do something different. Myself, my brother &  Mum sat by his bed & started to sing one of his favourite songs. His lips showed a very slight move & he started to whisper!! I think that was the most emotional moment I faced in my entire life! Then we knew "Lionel Obeysekera" is still in this motionless body!

 

This is what we sang;

 

 

Anyway, a miracle happened! With my Mum's incomparable care, unmatched rehabilitation program worked out by my Bappa & Punchi, doctors fruitful advices, love & blessings of others and mostly Thaththa's willingness to fight back made him improved so much; walk, talk (even with some problems) and live with us..  He was back with us happily!

 

On 7th November 2008, morning was not with much differences, sun was shining.. birds were singing.. I just wanted to say bye to my dad before leaving to office, then I noticed he was in a deep sleep, with a very peaceful smile on his face. He had already said Bye to all of us! I knew, this time, his favourite songs would not wake him up…!

 

My father is like a book. We were so busy to read some of the chapters. At least now we have got time to read it from the scratch. Already we understand the meanings in far different ways.

 

I am so sure; we might reference this book so many times again & again, in this voyage of life and find more and more meanings.

 

I guess, this is the real story of every father…