Tamarind

Laced fingers – practically indistinguishable genetically yet separate thanks to 44 years that distanced us.

Fair. Spotted. Translucent. Strange I thought. Mine didn’t look so shimmery in the light. She was special from the start. Little did I know that was also a sign of her battle where swords were drawn against an undefeatable opponent - time.

We’d sit for hours on the balcony, cordoned off from the rickety railway tracks watching life as it was lived on the outskirts of our secure bubble. That was the beauty of 75 International Buddhist Center Road. The only house on the road painstakingly build from ground up by hands fueled with tamil blood – hands that were widely considered honorary Sinhalese ones. I loved leaning back on her cushiony bosom and listening to her whisper the stories that birthed me. From nothing to everything, her hands would gently caress mine and I learned from life about the caliber of humanity. Enough to pen unbirthed novels, she’d say. Unbirthed, still.

Hours would pass, with us sitting in papaya seeds scattered like freckles on crisp clean marble. Freckles like tamarind seeds precariously placed on steaming coconut rice. It was her moment to shine. In me, she left her essence – imprinted in words. We shared so much, more than most would imagine – the 9 year old me and the 53 year old her – somehow of one spirit. Harlequins, dreams, Enid Blyton, poetry, sunset wishes, steaming puttu slick with butter and crystallized sugar, jam consumed in secrecy – she was the consummate best friend before I realized I had another. Through welded iron and glass windows, we would patiently wait for the sunset – all the while making wishes that she full well believed would come true.

“ke sera sera. Whatever will be, will be. The future’s not ours to see, ke sera sera.”

The lilt of her song has followed me through countries, languages, moments of discovery, self-awareness, rebellion – they never left my side. In reflections, I see it as the invisible person in the room. A shadow that casts itself and shatters the common perception of me. It defines my roots and in turn the person I’ve become. In some ways, it is my soundtrack.

There’s no need to worry about me. The pain, it seems to have fallen away – it’s not as sharp or as tart as the first taste of tamarind on unfamiliar lips. It molded me, became a part of my rhetoric – so much so that I don’t realize she’s gone until I’m reminded by her two ungrateful spawns that its time for a ‘show’.

Many many years ago, I thought I saw that familiar spirit in my newborn cousin. But I was wrong because I quickly realized – you cannot embody the essence of someone if you were never touched by her life. Now, I pity them. They never ever knew the real her – sure she was their mom but never their friend. The her that had dreams of Japanese flowers (that’s how amma got them – osmosis perhaps), wanted to travel sans drama, wanted a parivar that was connected in truity not pretense….she wanted so much out of life and most of it – just never came true. And that, is something none of them will ever know about her. I guess that’s why we try so hard to be friends with our amma, that’s why we’re insanely close because we (her grandkids) saw how the lack of those things – erased her.

This Saturday – tomorrow – the tamil calendar marks her 20th death anniversary and in a big cold house in the middle of nowhere, her life will be remembered by those that never remembered her when there was life to still live. And for the first time in many many many years of proactively deciding to wrench myself and my parivar away from the pretense – a reunion of sorts is in the works. I’ll be there in person – doing what needs to be done as the first grandchild in the family. And as the first –I will smile while holding down the tartness of this experience somewhere deep within.

And behind every smile will be the silent reminder: we may have forgiven the actions of the past but never will we forget.

Ke sera, sera.

Aching

It never dawned on me how much I missed that characteristic scent of her. Or the way her hands, lighter than the brown skin I was loosely wrapped in, would stroke my nightingale locks. Or how her once dark hair speckled with grey flecks of experience, shimmered when the light illuminated her in 90degree parameters. Of the way her cheeks rose and fell at the command of her plump lips oftentimes whispering encouraging lyrics to wounded ears. To the wide eyed and idealistic ones, she was beauty defined. Ageless and transcending reality. That’s what I miss the most today. The ability to take one look at her shadowy pools of darkness and know that this too shall pass. Ironically, she taught me just that.

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why is she on my mind? because 20 years ago to this very day, i was in her arms blissfully unaware that in 11 days - she'd fall through the cracks of karma and leave me searching...forever.

2 Funerals and an Engagement.

The beginning of this week slapped the euphoric joy that had somehow lodged itself into my existence after my friend R’s engagement-do at her local Guju mandir. For a second, I felt it. I actually felt tremors of something run down my spinal chord and it was good to know that I can still feel things (lately I’ve been forgetting how that happens). That moment of infinite joy as you see someone walk into the phase of life that they so desperately dreamt of for years and years and years – is heady to say the least. This girl was the die hard romantic even at the worst of times. She truly, madly, deeply believed in the power of love culminating in the union of two. So after a few fumbles and falls, it was nice to know that the universe does conspire to make some things happen – as they should. Bliss.

Earlier this week, I fell smack dab into two funerals. My old age must be gaining on me because I’m starting to find that viewings take a toll on my psychological health. I get there, I stare into tear filled eyes and I subconsciously place myself in their shoes. Size 8 or not, they fit. And once again, I feel something. This time it hits my core. Imagine a linebacker vs. a rag doll. Yup. That’s what it was. That’s how it is. I hear their wails and my unmoving lips wail like ventriloquists do. Gutteral. Hurt. Displaced. I peer into the open casket and I see familiar faces of grandparents passed on, an appapatti surviving the ride, a dad that doesn’t care enough to control his diabetes – and it begins. The eyes fill up and overflow because they can’t contain the hurt the heart feels. It doesn’t seem to matter who it is – I put myself there and I cry for them as much as I cry for myself.

Leaving sucks. Being left behind sucks even more.

On my way out of the funeral hall, I ran into a family friend. A strong Sri Lankan woman who recently lost her father. Sure, they weren’t on the best of terms. Sure, she didn’t even live with him. Neither did her mom. Yet, when I saw her. I felt her grief. Or maybe it was my guilt that came rushing through. Guilt for not taking the time to even make an appearance at the viewing. Guilt for not reaching out when she could’ve used the extra shoulder. And it hit me again. Maybe it was just guilt I felt thanks to the selfish me.

The ride home that night was filled with us four women freaking out. And boy oh boy, what a sight that was! Nobody exaggerates things more than we do. As we drove away from the funeral parlor, you could hear are unspoken thoughts – thank god, it wasn’t one of ours. Thank god, that our close knit family is still just that – close knit and alive. I do this every time I hear about inner city violence, or the sound of squealing tires followed by sirens, or my eyes glance through the obituaries. I think it – tinged with guilt, it smarts on its way up – but I continue doing it. I broke down a conversation that I had with my cousin at the viewing where she reaffirmed that very same sentiment in hushed whispers.

Thank god, it wasn’t one of ours.

I wonder what the karmic retribution for that selfish thought is. Whatever it maybe, bring it on world because I’m certain that I will think it again.

Yesterday...

Her confidence shriveled to fit the standard manila 9.5" x 4.125" coffin, cushioned by the canned message that a communications nerd penned, unfeelingly.

Rejected - Again.

It didn’t seem to matter that she had mentally prepared herself for this – her worst case scenario. It still stung like a wild hornet feasting on her DNA.

Lighter, that’s what it feels like when you’re stripped of the goals that drive you forward.

One down, two more to go. Until the calm returns, she’ll hide behind pleasant smiles and sugar coated niceness – all the while nursing the limping dream within.

At times like this, logic escapes the soul. And this state of slow submersion, feels eternal. Caught somewhere between the folds of that letter, was her rising nightmare.

She will survive. Because, rejection eventually fuels dreams that are real.

I just hope that she knows this for herself.

True or False - Answered truthfully.

Another goodie courtesy of Susan.

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I am a cuddler – false – except when I’m pmsing and need some positive “touch”

I am a morning person – True – bright and early (as in 5:00am on a sat morning)

I am a perfectionist – True – If I think I can’t get it right, I don’t do it at all (a curse)

I am an only child - False – and thank heavens for that. Only children are weird.

I am Catholic – False – but I’m apparently gonna marry one – can I get into the club?

I am currently in my pajamas –False – although I wish I were – that might make for some great work comedy

I am single: True – born alone. Will die alone. In the meantime, I hang out with many.

I am currently suffering from a broken heart – True – I’ve disappointed my inner child by going corporate canada-esque

I am okay at styling other people's hair – True – as long as you don’t have creepy crawlies in there

I am left handed – False – although most people assume I am b/c I wear my watch on my right wrist

I am addicted to my myspace – False – if by that you mean my room, then yes. Yes I am.

I am online 24/7, even as an away message – False – I wish I had the patience to be that connected.

I am very shy around the opposite gender at first – True – I’m shy and my defense mechanism is extroversion. Strange eh?

I bite my nails – False – I used to bite my toe nails ONLY thank you very much.

I can be paranoid at times – True – at times? Nuh uh, its second nature on most days.

I currently regret something that I have said or done- True – I’m always regretting things and then forgetting why I was regretting them

When I get mad I curse frequently – True – I make sailors blush and sea monsters run for cover

I get mad frequently – True – anger management classes are required. (a side effect of a Type A personality, don’t you know)

I don't like anyone – False – Oftentimes, I know if I’m feeling someone in the first few seconds that I meet them. Although, my judgment has sometimes led me astray.

I enjoy country music- True – but only because Im not a big music-head so, I enjoy anything with a good beat depending on the mood I’m in.

I enjoy jazz music – True – see above.

I enjoy smoothies –True – slurpable nutrients: yummers. If only all fruit came in this format.

I enjoy talking on the phone – True – I used to be a phone monger but, in my old age I’ve discovered that I prefer communicating through email.

I have/had a hard time paying attention at school –False – I can focus like it’s nobody’s business.

I have a lot to learn – True – Regardless of how far I come, I still feel like a fetus in comparison to soooo many people I idolize.

I have a pet – True – Her name is Rama. I pet her often and even walk her on most days.

I have a secret that I am ashamed to reveal – True – One? Don’t you mean many? That’s the joy of being alive in my books – learning by falling flat on my face and then trying hard to deflate attention by hiding it all.

I have a tendency to fall for the "wrong" person – True – I used to. And maybe I still do. It’s just that this time the “wrong” person (as in type/personality) turned out to be the perfect one for me.

I have all my grandparents – False – I wish I did. One left.

I have at least one sibling – True – Thank heavens for that.

I have been told that I am smart – True – All my life. Although quite frankly, I’d much rather be the pretty one.

I have broken a bone – False – If you know me, you’d know I’m waaay too scared of anything physical.

I have Caller I.D. on my phone – True – who doesn’t?

I have changed a diaper – True – more times than I care to remember.

I have changed a lot over the past year – True – Change is the only constant in my existence these days.

I have done something illegal –True – I plead the fifth on details – chalk it up to secrets I’m too ashamed to share.

I have friends who have never seen my natural hair color – False

I have had major/minor surgery – True

I have killed another person – True – If emotional death counts then yes – Karma will certainly kick my ass for those disasters

I have had my hair cut/colored within the last week – True – I got my fringe trimmed.

I have had the cops called on me – True – OMG, I’m starting to realize that I’m a bad ass.

I have kissed someone I knew I shouldn't – True – More times than I care to remember.