I think I heard food
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He hit her with a jam jar.
I remember when I was about ten years old and living in Dhaka, a Sri Lankan family moved there. They had two daughters and we would often get together for play dates with children of other family friends. The family seemed normal, the wife was meek but we didn’t see anything wrong there. Never did we imagine that the husband would turn into a vicious beast when he was intoxicated. But we were never aware of what happened within the confines of their home. It all came out when all the children would get together for frequent play dates on weekend afternoons. The eldest daughter *Samanthi who was aged eight at the time would never play or interact with the other children. She’d sit by herself in a corner and watch the others including her little sister try their hand at dressing up Barbie or winning a game of cards. Often, she’d look scared. This fear in her eyes would be confusing and the rest of us never really understood why she behaved in that manner.
Time passed and she started complaining of blurry eyesight and feeling faintish. Since the family was relatively new to living in Dhaka, Mama took Samanthi and her mother to an eye surgeon. Upon checking her eyesight and discovering that it was absolutely fine, the eye surgeon referred Samanthi to a paediatrician. The paediatrician was confused, wondering why the child would complain when there wasn’t anything wrong. She began to question the mother . She asked if everything was alright at home and if she and her husband ever argue in front of their children. First, the mother got defensive and flatly denied that she and her husband argued or fought. Sensing something wrong, Mama told her it was normal for parents to argue and that it was important that she tell the truth to the paediatrician. With much hesitance, the mother admitted that they do indeed have arguments in the presence of their two daughters but that was all she said. Later on, Mama found out from other friends that those arguments weren’t just arguments but acts of violence. In his state of frequent intoxication, the husband would open the refrigerator and start yanking every bottle, jar and dish out. He would hurl a strawberry jam filled jar at his wife followed by a bottle containing tomato sauce. When she would duck and narrowly miss, the jars and bottles would crash into the kitchen wall thus the stains of jam and sauce. He would take dishes and use them too. Sometimes, he would just use his bare hand to beat his wife. And whenever these acts of violence broke out, their two daughters would bear witness to every single thing. When they would run and try to protect their mother, he would push them away fiercely and continue the violence.
And when things would get really bad, he locked the two girls in their room so they would not interfere in him beating his wife. And every time he locked them in their room, the elder daughter would hold her little sister tight, wipe away her tears and press her ear to the door trying to figure out what was happening outside just by paying close attention to the sounds. If this wasn’t appalling enough, her father would feel horribly guilty the next day. To make up for his behaviour, he would go out and purchase a gift for his wife, often an expensive handbag, pair of shoes or a piece of jewellery. For his daughters, he would take them to the expensive toy store at the Gulshan Market and buy two of the most expensive Barbie dolls there. Then he would take them out to dinner. To one of the finest restaurants in the city. And then magically, everything would be alright until he started it again. Again and again and again. I can’t count the number of times Mama approached the wife and tried to talk to her. To tell her that it wasn’t a joke to be trapped in an abusive marriage. That the abuse was terribly unhealthy for her daughters. But she never paid heed to what Mama had to say. Soon, she drifted apart from Mama and grew distant. In the December of 2002, we left Bangladesh and to date, we do not know of what happened to that family. Last we heard that the husband got a job transfer and the entire family moved to Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam. But that’s all. We don’t know whether the daughters are fine or whether the wife is subject to his abuse. We are aware that she hasn’t left him yet. But would she ever have the courage to leave him. To defy his acts of violence.
But this is just one of so many stories. How many women unknown to us must silently suffer the wrath of her boyfriend or husband? How many of them stay in a marriage with the hope of their husbands turning over a new leaf? How many of them stay in a marriage for ‘the sake of their children’? How many women are in abusive relationships? How many of them eventually get married to these abusive men? How many of them share a bed at night, sleeping in fear of the monster next to them? How many women do we know who wake up everyday in the morning, cook, clean and make tea for their husbands irrespective of the violence they have to put up with? What about the verbal abuse which is just as horrific? Emotional and mental trauma galore. There are many. Several, hundreds and we need to take action against the violence. Because it isn’t funny and because violence is scary. Domestic violence is a large issue here in Sri Lanka and several cases of abuse are reported. Often, the details are horrifying and one can only imagine what kind of strength these women are equipped with.
Never ever stay in a relationship with an abusive man. You need to stop telling yourself that he’s going to change. You need to stop telling yourself that the abuse is going to stop. Unless you have the courage to leave him, it will never stop. You are worthy of yourself and no man should hurl derogatory terms at you or beat you senseless for something you weren’t aware was wrong. You don’t deserve the blue marks on your arms, hidden by clothes. You don’t deserve the mental anguish. Remember that.
*name changed to protect the privacy of the individual
Silent wishes.
It’s funny how I don’t crave chocolate anymore. Not even Lindt or After Eight or Cadbury’s. Should I be worried? No. Because I’ve got other things to keep my mind occupied. And when I say this, I’m not happy about it. In these past few months, I have come to realize that adults can get difficult. I am an adult, a young one. But I am not referring to myself or other people in the same age category. I am talking about parents. Many a time have I wished that their issues could be dealt without dragging their children into it. But no, things don’t work that way. You wish and you wish and you wish and when you’re finally done wishing, you don’t know what to do anymore. It sucks when everything is going perfect for you and when the little things on the side seem to be the biggest things. It’s like the forces of the universe don’t wish to see you happy. Or maybe it’s just me. I don’t know. Sometimes I’d like to know. Sometimes I wouldn’t like to know.
I have come to realize that the heart cannot be easily pleased as it used to be when I was younger. The year I was aged eighteen was a good year. Too awesome, I’d say. Even now, I’d do anything to go back to being eighteen. But we can’t rewind time and we can’t rewind actions. Often, I think of 2009. I was so happy that year. Nothing kept me unhappy except for a few friends leaving the country but that was all. I was at journalism college and I’d made friends with an amazing set of girls who are still a huge part of my support system. Maybe I’m not being patient enough.
Sometimes, I wish that being 21 was easier. Everyone I know keeps telling me that I’m going to have an amazing year. That being 21 will be awesome and when I turn 22, I’d want it back. Being 21 hasn’t made any fat difference in my life yet. Am I wishing for too much? I don’t know yet.
Oh no.
Two days back, on the gloomy yet beautiful Monday morning, I thought to myself. I have abandoned my blog. This is not really cool. You need to pay attention to it. So here I am, writing a post after a grand total of nearly eight months. Nothing much has happened since. I got a few haircuts much to the disapproval of my grandmother. She’s really cool and I can totally talk about anything and everything with her. From boys to waxing your legs to the Grease Yaka, she’s pretty cool for a grandma but she doesn’t like the short hair. She can’t stand it. That’s when I plant a kiss on her cheek and go “Aiyo Nancy (sounds way fancier than Nanna), my hair grows back really fast and I’m still young so I can do whatever I want.” Oh well. Hmm, and let’s see, I turned twenty one a few weeks back. And my dad surprised me with a Canon 550D two days later. I was so excited, I couldn’t even believe that the camera I was holding was actually mine. I still haven’t gone crazy with it yet. As though I’m actually afraid to use it for fear of something large and ugly crashing down on me hence destroying my precious new toy Dexter. Yes that’s his name. Dexter. Cos it sounds uber smart and not cos I may have a tiny crush on Michael C. Hall who plays the serial killer Dexter.
Anyway, other observations I have made in the past few months:
- My neighbour Mrs. Oorloff is slightly crazy. She has a white dog named Brownie and she traps him within the confines of the tiny garden but what she doesn’t know is that Brownie jumps from the short wall at absurd hours of the night and jumps back into the garden when he hears a frog croak. Such a wuss of a dog.
- President Rajapaksa carries this gold talisman thingamajig everywhere he goes. It looks a bit strange.
- Kohomba soap smells addictive. Almost as addictive as the green Lifebuoy soap.
- MasterChef Australia is BRILLIANT. And works well for people (like me) who would love to start cooking but just too darn lazy to venture out of the usual cheese toast and instant noodles.
- Stupid Hindi movies like Ra-One are a waste of money. There must be a stop to all that rubbish cheesiness and eurgh at Shah Rukh Khan’s blue eyes. Ick.
- David Chang has just GOT to be the most adorable Asian chef in the world.
- Travelling to Seenigama always lifts my mood up.
- Women in Sri Lanka need to wear proper bras. Many a time have I noticed women walking on the road and their pointy chests have scared me. Senorita bras should have been extinct a long time ago.
- Passion fruit cheesecake is kinda the perfect cheesecake. If made properly, it strikes the perfect balance between tangy and sweet.
- I feel alive (and almost as though I’ve sprouted a pair of wings) when I bare my ears to Paradise by Coldplay. Possibly the most brilliant song released in this year.
- Photographing children can be really tough.
- I imagine some people in my workplace to have smoked a joint of weed in the morning before they come to work. Or else, I just don’t understand how they can engage themselves in conversations about safari suits at 9.30am.
The discoveries keep on coming!
I haven’t blogged in quite a while and feeling all that horrible for having deserted my blog for so long. Oh well, there never seems to be enough time for anything fun let alone reading but 
On other local news, many random thoughts, questions and discoveries have been running amok through my poor head.
- Why do all the 100/101 route buses have mad, crazy competitions with each other on the Galle road? Is there some sort of a secret bus conspiracy that we are all clearly unaware of? O.o
- The phone inside office rings too much. Far too much. And annoying people call and pester us with equally annoying questions like ‘Hi, I’m calling from Mount Lavinia. There was this really cool article which ran about me somewhere in March, I can’t quite remember the date. Would you happen to know the date? And the journalist who interviewed me?’ And that’s when I take a toffee wrapper and start squishing it over the receiver and go ‘Oh no, I think the connection is quite loose. Just a second..’ and then cut the line as abruptly as that.
- Cream buns from Green Cabin are still awesome. Especially at 1am when you’re wide awake and SUPER BORED.
- Travelling out of Colombo by public transport is divine. Call me a lunatic hobo but seriously so much people watching. It’s like THE easiest time and place to conduct awkward social experiments.
- Skipping work and lazing around an empty house on a weekday is very good for yourself. Try it. The results will work wonders for your mind and emotional state of being. What’s not to like anyway? Empty quiet house, whole fridge to yourself, the unquestionable right to remain in your pyjamas til 3pm (after 3pm is also fine!) and singing aloud in the shower without constant threats from your sister saying she’s going to storm inside and tape you in the shower. Plus the no-bra rule applies too.
- Wearing red flip flops make me feel super powerful.
- Baking cupcakes late in the night is rather awesome to calm your nerves/destress.
- Colombo sucks mongoose balls.
- On the topic of mongooses (mongeese?), apparently April is mating season for them hence the really awkward noises atop our roof at awkward times during the day (e.g – 5.3oam).
- Employees at fancyass stores flock to you like a bee when they assume you’re not a local. A funny accent also helps the situation.
- Listening to Adele is more therapeutic than you could ever imagine.
- That Nicki Minaj chick is really ugly. She needs to go back to Trinidad and Tobago and scrape coconut for pol sambol.
- Keeping your Tumblr open on a separate tab really lifts your mood up. Especially when you’re at work.
- MC screens really awkward movies with taglines like ‘The Professional Killer’. I mean, what is up with that sort of retardness?
- That Al Maas restaurant in Wellawatte has super awesome canned drinks. For example: grape soda, pineapple soda, peach soda, cherry soda and this peach juice with little bits of peach that shoot straight into your mouth through the straw.
- Ice cream to me, was given a brand new personality when I discovered Rio’s Ice Cream in Jaffna situated right next to the Nallur Kovil. The Jumbo Special = A little meal on its own except sugar rushes may be an occurrence.
- Local authors really do write in that magical way that makes you wish you could write like them.
- People in Sri Lanka will adorn their faces with sunglasses at ANY given time of day/ any situation. Eg 1: Guy wearing sunglasses at 8.45pm in Dehiwala. Eg 2: Guy wearing sunglasses inside dimly lit nightclub. Eg 3: Guy wearing sunglasses in rainy weather.
- Douchebags are everywhere you go.
Vengeance wreaked upon thy haven
In this past week, I
>… made an unnecessary splurge on a black empire-waisted dress from Kelly Felder. I don’t know why I bought it. Made a mental note to self to quit being so materialistic.
>melman
>
there is a pleasure in forgetting the crowd around you and staying put in your own little world.meeting the rascals in november
>
date and nut
