Archive for the ‘The Phoenix’ Category


This one’s not quite for me. It’s just something that my best friend (that Marzipan coated one) believed in with all her soul since she was 17. I read it from time to time and realize how much I’m evolving into it, as dramatic as the words are. In case you’ve never read it before, I wanted to share it with you. And I know some of you might relate. 🙂


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I looked at myself today. Really looked. Stripped of all the artificial vices that we take for granted as part of ourselves, the picture is so very different. When you begin to see beyond the face, even beyond the unsure expression you give yourself at times like these, you begin to see things that you may not really like sometimes.

I’ve been through too many instances of being misread by everyone around me that I wanted to see what it was about me that made people see someone who isn’t there. Who is this girl who everyone sees and who I obviously have no clue about? She seems to have taken up residency in my system and I have no clue who let her in. Did I, in some moment of weakness allow her access and not even remember it?

So I glared at the mirror, cocking my head from one side to the other, asking myself who I have become over the last few months. I glared deep into her eyes and saw my own face reflected, as tiny as ever. Am I smaller than I thought I was? I was never easy to read, even to myself at times.

But I find it hard to come to terms with the person everyone has obviously tagged me to be. I know that I am lost in one sense, but in so many others I am very much more found than I ever was. The things that have happened in my life have probably been more than I was ever made to handle. The story about God only giving you as much as you can deal with is bullshit in my books. And as a result I haven’t quite handled things well.

And it has taken longer than I would have liked for me to get my feet back on firm ground. I tend to wander off into places where the ground is shaky from time to time, but then again what would life be if everything was always so predictable? The thing is as a result of me being essentially who I am inside and refusing to change. except to become a better version of who I already am, I am misread.

When I cry, people think I’m falling apart. What they don’t realize is that it is a release and an acknowledgement that the numbness is over.

When I laugh, people think I don’t have a care in the world. When the reality is that I refuse to show them how I have let people crumble me within.

When I am blank, people think I am not bothered. When in truth I am forcing myself to give a damn and still nothing happens.

When I am nice, people think I am after them. When instead I am nice because it is inherently in me to be nice. The alternative is my bitter wrath. I am an extremist and no one appreciates the nicer side.

And all of that is just the tip of the iceberg. I wonder sometimes why people don’t bother taking the time to get to know someone before they peg them down as one sort or the other. Not everyone fits into a typical list of the types of people that could exist in the world. 

So I looked in the mirror and saw myself for who I was. If you don’t want to bother to see beyond the surface, that’s your loss. If you have something that holds you back from trying, I am the last person you should hold back with. 

At least I saw the girl in the mirror and liked what I saw. Granted, I didn’t see the best looker around, but she could pass. She’s also a little confused and a little bit lost, but she’s still very much there. 

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So I woke up with Jason Mraz this morning. He was humming I’m Yours somewhere in my head. I sat up straight and grinned like an idiot. It’s Friday the 13th and I’m in an unusually good mood. That must count for something.  Surely. For me to wake up on a normal day minus my muse, minus theatre, minus weed, minus the ocean… and still smile even before Stitch and Mucks pounced on me.

I have a good feeling about today. I have no clue what will or won’t happen and it’s kinda ok I guess. Things can’t always come out roses. Not that I like roses to begin with. It’s been a rocky road and I’m smiling. I think what matters is that I’ve been coming out of my slump personally. I’m not in that dark place where every part of my life just collapsed around me with no advance notice. I’ve moved away from 9 miserable years. And I’m ok. I’m really ok. I may come back and tell you differently on Monday, but what matters for now is that I’m thrilled for no apparent reason. And it feels damn nice.

Have you seen a deck of tarot cards? There are 22 major arcana cards which I primarily read with and the last one is my personal favourite. It reminds me of how I feel right now. It’s called The Fool. It depicts this man who seems to have packed up all his dreams, holds a flower in his hand and is about fall off a precipice unknowingly, during an eclipse. I know that sounds all dramatic. But for me, I’ve always seen the card as an adventure. A risk. Irrespective of the consequences. That’s kinda how I’m feeling. I’m a fool on a journey and… I feel good… na na na na na na na!


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Darth Maximus was. In my search for the 3 day weekend to find meaning in my life, it hits me late Friday night anyway.  Let me tell you a story. A couple of years ago when my life was at its lowest point I just picked up the Sunday Observer and went through the classifieds I wanted to play with some puppies to feel better so I went straight to the kennel notices & went to a house on the pretense of buying a puppy. There was a litter of glossy black Labrador puppies that I visited and in the midst of playing with them, one of the pack wanted nothing to do with me. He grabbed an old dead leaf, ran off, hid under his kennel and glared at me while chewing on it. I fell in love. I took him home. 

Months later things just got worse and worse. I was literally all alone in the world except for my beloved Max. I had decided to die. Everything was planned out to perfection and no one would know until it was too late. Every one reaches their limit. People may say that God doesn’t give you more than you can handle. But I had more than my share. I won’t go into the details because that’s not necessary. Everyone has a limit they reach before breaking point and I was way beyond mine. That’s all I need to say.  Max knew I was dying inside bit by bit. He grew more and more attached and protective of me day by day. But even he knew I was slipping away. When no one else knew, he did. I think he felt he needed to do something drastic. Unconditional love makes one do the extreme.  The day before my perfect suicide, Max died. Just like that. A beautiful 7 month black angel. All I could do was hold onto his dead body in the middle of a road and scream at the injustice. When things couldn’t get any worse, just 24 hours before I was destined to end it all…   

Jesus died to erase the sins of the world. Max died to erase the pain in my soul.  Darth Maximus died in my place and I am alive because of him today. This post is a tribute to my saviour. My first child and my salvation from my pain. My salvation from everyone who hurt me. My salvation from myself.  You soar in my soul baby. Mummy will never forget you.


Originally posted on 28 05 2007. I just read a post by my friend Absent that reminded me of my own painful loss and I felt the need to post it again.


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Photograph by Shehal Joseph

(and while we’re on the topic, I am so amazed at the amount of photographers in the blogsphere alone who came into to take pictures of us. This has got to be  the most photographed play I have ever been in! 🙂 )


Let’s start with the good news, shall we?

Opening night was everything I imagined it would be. And then some. Every ounce of nervous energy in the system converted itself into a fabulous show. And obviously it showed… because the audience gave us a standing ovation. ON OPENING NIGHT! Who does that? My parents were in the audience to watch me act after years and even they loved it. That’s saying a lot, considering they have always been my toughest critics in everything I have ever done. Getting them to say something nice about anything I have ever achieved has been like pulling eye teeth. A half-bored grunt is generally the most I’ve managed. They both hugged me and told me I was fabulous and the entire play was an amazing experience for the viewer. I had to double check if I was hearing right or if someone was practicing Jedi mind control over them for a minute there. 😉

Ofcourse, my mother did notice I was running a temperature and tried to march off to Feroze, asking for me to be sent home immediately. I had to hastily push her out of the Wendt, before she embarrassed me by treating me like a school child. It was a reaffirmation as to why I don’t live with them. Can you imagine what the rest of the cast would have done to me, if my “mummy” marched onto the stage demanding that her 29 year old daughter be sent home early? (shudder)

The air raid was a bummer. But none of us knew about it until the performance was over, thanks to SLMs strict no-phones-on-stage policy. It meant we could perform without knowing a thing. It kinda sucked to walk out into darkness and sit outside the Wendt, wondering if we could get home safely and if everyone we knew was ok. I think we went from emotion soaring to plummeting in a matter of moments. The high did return to all of us though. I don’t think a nuclear explosion could have wiped off our smiles for too long.

The second day was just as super with our Stool Breaker and Latha Walpola (inside joke) rocking the stage. If anything, I’d say the energy was even higher that night. They were simply fabulous and it remains our best performance yet

In the process of these super performances I did something silly. I opened a tiny window of opportunity for someone to toy with me. I would bitch slap myself if I had the energy. What’s with people who have no clue what they want being drawn to me? Do I have a sign on my forehead that says “when uncertain, hit on TMS”? Seriously!

It took me a while, but I’m back. One week of insanity was more than enough. I think it had a lot to do with the pressure of opening night and the last week of rehearsals that I became more vulnerable than I usually am. I think Katie Perry describes this amoeba perfectly in her song Hot & Cold that one listen and I realized how silly I was being.

I’m back world. And to add to it I realized I have amalgamated someone else into my system who is probably better at taking care of things that stand in her way than even I am. 

Rosie Crantz… take over girl!

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When December rolled around, I made a promise to her and myself that I will turn things around for myself. That a new dawn will come and I will start anew. Be born again and rise from the ashes as I usually do when terrible things come my way. Of course unlike all the crappy things that have happened in my life, this last situation has to have been the worst. If I go into the gory details right now, you won’t believe me anyway.

 I didn’t make a big list in my head or anything but somehow I knew that at midnight on the last day of this year, it would hit me. Almost like a list would appear from no where and it would be exactly what I needed to get through this year. 

Things happened. Christmas came and went, so did my birthday. Before I knew it I was on a midnight ride to Tissamaharama. I woke up the next morning, had a drink and toasted to the last day of the year with a tiny tinge of anticipation about what midnight would hold for me. 

We went on a boat ride. The wind was flying through my hair. I had my best bud with me and things seemed so nice. Off we went on what I would like to call a soul safari. Sadly I didn’t spot any leopard. But going back to Yala was like going back home. You see my Dad had this little holiday home by the lake in Weerawila and I would spend many of my vacations there. Inevitably it would lead to a weekly ride through the jungle on one of Daddy’s jeeps.

Going back into the area reminded me of exactly how much of my father’s daughter I am. My mum hated the outdoors and hunting and big game fishing and camping and everything my father was about. She tried her hardest to keep me away from it as well. But the older I grew, my passion for the outdoors became like an infectious disease. I craved for it more and more. Thank heavens for those few vacations I had in Trinco over the last few years or I would have died. There’s something about places in this country with minimal inhabitants that touch a chord in me. But Yala and Tissa and Weerawila are all about my childhood. About a time when things were simpler. A time I can appreciate far more now than I could then. I remember vacationing there with Mirantha. Of how we made our little base of operations in the back garden by the lake. Of how we screamed obscenities at the passers by as we drove to Katharagama. Yessiree… I am Daddy’s Girl.

Flash forward : The camp site was set up, the BBQ was on its way. Everyone was drinking up and smoking up and having a good time. Just when it got close to midnight I walked off and sat alone. Waiting. For that big moment to hit me. Midnight came and went. And I was still waiting. I could hear them calling out my name and looking for me. But I still waited. The moment just had to hit me. Some huge miraculous thing. And it didn’t. I sat there alone in the darkness and finally Marzipan found me, flung her arms around me and wished me a happy new year. 

Everything else was a bit of a haze until the following morning. I opened my tent flap and witnessed the most beautiful sunrise. The world looked as though it had been washed in a golden glow. And then it hit me. The fact that nothing was supposed to hit me at all. I mean what was I expecting? A shooting star to fall on my head the previous night?

I came back to Colombo missing the jungle and the little vision quest that I thought I was on. It feels a little incomplete that a menhir didn’t crack my skull open. But in the process, I think I realized that the best thing I can do for myself is not to wait for those special moments and plan for them and expect something epic to happen.

I’m going to let 2009 happen to me because I know I can handle  just about anything, come what may. What’s important is that I am stronger than anyone has ever given me credit for. Than even I have.

What’s important is that I’ll be ok. 


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Ah ha!

So Santa did listen this time. Here I am typing this blog post on my very own brand new laptop. I am a happy happy girl. Even the picture of old uncle mervin in the newspaper next to me bothers me less. This morning I was in a fit of rage at the ridiculous things he had said in his interview. Some silly things like he was not aware that the person with him had any criminal record. And worse, he compared himself to Jesus, Buddha and Mohomad. Apparently he is on a preaching mission and is misunderstood by misguided people of the country. Hee hee. Misunderstood. Good one. Bothers me far less when one has a shiny new laptop to look at. Not that he doesn’t totally bother me. Plan to put the laptop to good use and come up with a strategy to quell his quench for power.

One thing though. Am utterly confused with the “wonders” of Windows Vista. On one hand it looks like its trying to ape a Mac in terms of its OS/platform and on the other, it just seems like they’ve just overdone it for no reason at all. Who am I to talk about something I have no clue about. Everyone seems to be raving about it, so maybe its just me. Sigh. Shouldn’t complain too much and make an effort to figure it out. After all, when one is gifted a laptop, one should not whine about the technology.

So this one’s a thanks to my very own, special, one-of-a-kind Santa.

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