I am sure you hear the expression “I am sorry” from a zillion people a million times a day. (okay may be not zillion people and may be not a million times. But I am sure you do get what I mean!)

Ever wondered if they ever mean it?

(Well I do wonder about silly things like this at times, I am sure most of you don’t waste your time on nonsense as this, but well, I am merely being inquisitive.)

I have been hearing too many “sorry”s of late and well I honestly this my ears have turned deaf on them.

When the words, “sorry” start heading in the direction of my ears, a blackout occurs, and well I kind of do not hear it. (Imagine the bullets heading towards Neo in Matrix and stopping near him! Yep, that is the imagery that pops into my head while typing this out.)

Reason for such cinematic effect: Mainly the fact of knowing that half of the words are not heartfelt.

Why bother about something one does not mean?

Why bother about something that people say out of mere politeness and because they are trained to say so?

Well what do I do?

Reply of course!

Say “no worries!”

And let the words uttered just fly by me, because honestly I ain’t bothered!

(This post is not for most parts intended to make any sense. It is a mere expression of my chain of thought that means nothing to most, and means a lot to some :))

Moments, people, things and places one comes across, making one feel complete. Such be you to me.

The assurance of feeling good at the end of the day, to know you have a smile on your face be what it you may live within the day. The feeling of a moment with someone, changing your day though there be no “legitimacy” to what they be in your life.

There be no tags, no rules, merely a feeling. The feeling of freedom and vastness. The feeling of knowing that you be not bound by place or time. The feeling of someone making you feel “special” in a nonhandicapped way and positive way, be wherever with whomever you be.

A person that makes you feel cherished…

A smile, a thought and a feeling you be to me, someone that is special and I in turn cherish, surely no necessity to be filled within a structure, refusing to be put into a structure.

No tags, no names be needed. Just the three lettered word attached to that emotion you revive in me. That be what you be to me.

The nontagged existence of my meagre existence, such art thou to me!

I wake up in the morning, quite earlier than normal thanks to my parents who had taken my words of wisdom pronounced last night on leaving home around 8 o clock a little too serious (my waking hours been 6 is not normal, happens on a very rare occasion, anyone who knows me would be proud of me for this achievement, and would pity my parents on trying to wake me up!)

So what do my parents do? They take turns waking me up every ten minutes starting from 6 am. How jolly! Sigh!

Then my best friend calls me up at 6.30 am in the morning, once again to make sure that I shall be awake and that she would not be waiting for me for hours in a restaurant where we are supposed to meet up for a very early breakfast. ( all these expressions of time, are on a subjective level, applicable only to me. I am sure that you have all gathered by now that I am not a morning person.)
Well for those who are getting annoyed about my ranting, and wondering how my waking up in the morning, earlier than usual is going to help in any mode to reduce my carbon foot print. Here comes how that will materialise. It lies enveloped in the answer to the question “why am I waking up early?”

Simple answer: “To catch public transport in lieu of my touktouk”

Once again, for those who are not familiar with the term “touktouk”, it is a vehicle that runs on three wheels. Also known as a three wheeler and trishaw. I don’t know what the majority calls it. But for some reason I have got used to calling it a touktouk and such it shall be called hence forth.

So coming back to my ranting on my daily adventure, on the reduction of my carbon foot print: so on a normal day, I will wake up late, too late to be anywhere at any normal office hour and run out and call my touktouk guy who will duly arrive at my doorstep to pick me.

But not today! Things were going to be different! I was going to catch a bus, a crowded bus, with lot of people in it. And I have vowed not to lose my patience in the midst of people who would be  pushing against me and stepping on my feet. Yes it would also be a practice of tolerance, and a check on  how far my tolerance be stretched. (As I mentioned, I am not the ray of sunshine in the morning, and am sure  would be happier an owl!)

But of late I think I am turning out to be one tiny sunshine thanks to Teo. Our morning conversation had put a smile on my face. I tell him that he makes my day by putting a smile on my face once I wake up and end of a tiring day. He tells he is happy to do so. Well I am happy too, that he bothers to do so. It is quite an effort, but I think he is a natural at achieving that result.

So Vositha sets off…

I manage to get a bus, half crowded, and luckily in which there are available seats. I am happily seated at the back of the bus, on a long stretched seat waiting for the bus to set off on its journey. But the bus refuses to budge. I had forgotten that the 135 buses always stopped for a while at certain bus stops  till the bus was a little crowded. So not wanting to lose patience in the morning, I wait, with no voiced or unvoiced complaints.

And finally the bus starts moving! And boooy am I happy?
What next? 10 to 15 minute bus ride, which of course could have been curtailed to a 5 minute one, and Vositha gets off the bus, and runs after another which is about to leave. Miraculously she manages to get in, and for her luck, manages to get a seat in this one too! Yaaay!

I observe the people around me. A old lady who is busy dozing off, a guy who looked about 35 years old, who has a Justin Bieber ring tone on his phone, and a good looking girl couple of seats ahead of me, who is highly engrossed in adjusting her hair every 2 minutes. ( No, the bus is not deserted, those who I mentioned are the few people who I manage to notice.)

The bus stops near a school ground and I hear the school band playing, and the drums drumming away. A gang of boys jumping into the bus. Have they skipped school? Not too sure. One has his school uniform trousers on, and a t shirt is worn over it. May be they are skipping school. Not too sure. A lot of noise surrounds the bus while the boys fight or argue over who pays for the 16 tickets. I try to evade their foot prints  on my feet  in their enthusiasm. I notice that three of them are seated on top of each other, and one’s leg starts knocking against by hip. Patience be the day’s word!

Finally my stop!

I get off, decide to walk to my destination. Resolution engraved, “NO  touktouk Even for short distance”. Hence I set off on foot getting weird looks from people. ( May be I had a somewhat manic expression on my face! Not too sure. But possible)

But I had not been the wisest person on the planet. Being colour conscious, I had picked a pair of sandals that were not the most walking friendly. My ankle feels the edge of the strap cutting into it, and I end up giving a good reason for the people to be staring at me on the road, as I adopt a weird walking style which makes me look as if I am hopping at a very slow pace.

Yes backpack on, she hops away to her destination. On the way, she makes a stop at the super market, to get herself a plaster. The sales girl asks her, “you need only one?”, “yes” Vositha answers. “At least for the time being! Not too sure if I would need another for the other foot, soon”. The sales girl gives Vositha one of those looks. The looks that say, “you sure you should not be on some pill too?”

After getting on and off two buses, hopping away and attending to a scraped off foot, I manage to land at my destination, sweat pouring down my face and a manic expression on my face.

But then again, who cares? I had managed to stick to my resolution, and I AM  happy!

Now to get back to yawn away for the rest of the day!

Moral of the story : Vositha should try to practice the same endeavour after having her proper sleep. This taken into consideration and implemented, she would be a more productive individual for the rest of the day 🙂

If one thinks the title is weird, well then one needs to check the Sunday Leader headlines on the 19th of September 2010. The article speaks of an alleged process by the university authorities which entails female students being sent to hospital for virginity tests!

Three questions that pop up instantaneously in my head : Is this for real? If answer to the previous be in the affirmative, what kind of idiotic behaviour does this amount to? What right does one possess to check whether a student is a virgin or not?

One thing to be noted duly is that this situation which is reported to have occurred according to the above mentionned newspaper does amount to a level of morality being imposed on others. It also in turn, if proved to have happened becomes a demonstration of power vested in the authority ( or the power the individual believes to be vested in him).

The article states : “the girls were talking to boys.., as it often happens in campus life, when they were forcibly put into the campus ambulance by security guards and taken away to the Kalubowila Hospital for a virginity test.”

It is also stated that among other things that this individual of authority has ventured into imposing is intruding on boys and girls in close conversation and forcing their parents to get them “married off”

Is this for real? or is this another article that lacks in accuracy? A question that requires an answer.

If the authority did impose such requirement for the students, then what be the basis? And if he did not, what be the basis for the newspaper to publish such an article accusing the individual of such acts?

Something seems not quite correct either way!

Follow up on the situation

After reading the newspaper article, I asked from a university student who refuses that there has been such situation within the university premises as the Newspaper quotes. She says that there has been no cameras as mentioned in the newspaper article which she has seen.

Hence the next question, are the facts in the article of the Sunday newspaper portraying the reality of the university of Jayawardhanapura or is it merely distorting a situation for some other reason?

What ever it may be, it would be something that needs to be looked at and more information distributed.

Hence the need for me to talk to more people and also observe the accuracy of Sri Lankan newspaper articles that are deemed to be forming and conditioning the public opinion.

Frustration and stress level is hitting the ceiling. Each call I make to the same number is driving me nuts. Of course I am not supposed to express it. Instead protocol and my better judgement tell me that I need to deal with all these is the most diplomatic manner. Well the question that confronts me remains for how long will I be capable of maintaining the low frustrated, low stressed, very diplomatic self.

Thank God, or karma or be it destiny, whatever be that you believe in, I have people to reply to the mails on an instantaneous, high reflex, rapid reactive mode. Not to forget also ready to volunteer to do things and come up with all forms of creative options in dealing with all forms of crisis we come across. We have suggestions of car washes, selling and marketing climate change related games and standing in Majestic City mall to sell them! Sure I am up for it! You better be up for it too! ( yeah at times I discover the dictator in me :P)

Let’s just say that I am grateful to innovation and creativity. Kind of functions like a chill pill or a sedative LOL and it needs to be admitted that I can do with one, time to time.

The days have become a pattern, heading to office, calling the ministry, harassing the people who would pick the phone to get the fax delivered to the relevant person’s hands. But of late every day I miraculously get through to his line, when he is at a meeting. Is it coincidence or am I plain jinxed at getting through to this particular individual?
We have lost a good month trying to get support. Support that was offered and we so strongly and blindly believed in, all through our youth idealistic believing capacities. You say you help us, well we believe you will help us! Why? Cz we the youth, have this disease of telling only and mostly what we believe in and what we take pride in performing.

Well in short forget the funds, this letter itself has proven to be a mountain of a task. Something like climbing K2! I am not kidding, it is and has become one big process!
One learns a lot of things when organising summits, among which are prominent, to become an insomniac, read mails every 5 minutes, to notice 10 unread mails every time you open your mailing account and or yeah lots and heaps of diplomacy.

But above all, a lot of hidden strength and belief in others who will become your family in the process, you know you love them you hate them and you know you cannot live without them! Yeah they be not of your blood, but they will suffer with you, and sure will believe that there is still hope and always hope, just because you say so! So with their belief will be fortified your belief that there is “ALWAYS” hope!

If you are confused, do not be! Protest it shall be!

Yes we are becoming very innovative these days. We are no more on pretentious hunger strikes, with people offering us to have water. We the citizens of Sri Lanka have more creative ideas.

But they be limited only to those who are brave, those who are fit, and definitely to those who want to see the President.

Yes, this is the chance for you to climb the highest thing around which is near a road, which would in turn affect the traffic around, piss everyone off and, how could I ever forget this aspect, wishfully believe the President will come along to get you down a pole!

If you be one who thought the melting of the Presidents heart to come save a man “dying of hunger” be the same for you, I guess there is much to be awaited! But there be always room for bewilderment! Who knows? One might surprise us all, the President in all his honour might come, might listen to your plea, from the bottom of your hoarding pole! One incident we would love to see! We Sri Lankans love all the drama! Drama be what we feed on!

But then how long one be up there? To whom would his death matter? Would any threat of suicide cause anyone any bother? Does it be of the least care for what be his protest? Comments on daily mirror website answer to the definite contrary. This be another social drama, rather comedy somewhat full of suspense, but then another joke for many.

The outcome so far: one man arrested for aiding and abetting attempted suicide by handing over a mobile to he who be on a pole.

And who be the idiot in the end? A question flying in the air!

The answer be it easy as fathomed it to be?? Be the idiot, he who be on a pole? He who be arrested for handing a phone? Or any alternative response available?

It has been months and months since all this preparation started. And still it is in the preparation form. Today should have been the first day of the summit if things worked out as planned, but no, not to be, as we have no funds coming in, no letters been accredited, no calls working the way we want it to work.

As for me, and my life, well it has taken a drastic change. Hours of internet time, attachment to my laptop fortified while the social interaction seems to be with those who are not the least near me! Hours of stress, suppressed anger and frustration resulting in lack of sleep, hair fall and the life of a zombie!

I tell Rishi of the great adventure with the ministry, the great promises made that were never delivered, how hard it was to even gain the accreditation letter for the summit. He replies to me while seated on the lawn and enjoying the cool breeze on the other side of the world “welcome government work!”. To be honest I would have preferred an exit rather than a welcome if this be the quality to be expected. But then, do I have much of a choice in this case? I have no doubts that it be not the case.

The question popping in my mind, “what would the life of a mole be?”

I am not referring to the one which is on your face, I am referring to that tiny animal that lives under ground and never sees sunshine. Yeah well that be the nature of my life. At least the animal I am sure has its strolls on the grass in moonlight with its mole partner, I be unfortunately deprived of that as well. My umbilical cord with the laptop and internet remains intact preventing me from going for strolls or checking out any moonlight over a balcony to say the least! Would that prevent me from a jump over a balcony?? Guess that is one thing I have not put my thoughts into. Something to analyse. Strength of the umbilical cord be the next subject of analysis and the thesis to be published soon, before of after Vositha goes insane!

Life as I know has forever changed, with many more failures or possible failures of exams to be awaited.
And so “She” goes back to responding to all the mails and the comments made with a sigh unheard by the world, and a face of an insomniac whose eyes be forever framed with circles around them in darker shades.

Moments are mere moments in time. They do not mean more than that. They are just moments. Moments of frustration, moments of despair and then the moments of jubilation. They all last only a moment, hence a moment.

I stare out, a task I do often. Staring out of glass windows with thick iron bars from within. They be there not to let what be out in or to not let out what is within. A comfortable form of prison for an abstract painting, for a photographer in his obsession of clicking those desperate images of times that need be forgotten. Those moments, worthless, moments which are moments, mere moments of the past, of one forgotten.

Front pages of most newspapers carry her photograph. The 8’ o clock news highlights the number of nails hammered into her, then drawn out of her. The whole country speaks of her. A 49 year old woman from the South of Sri Lanka who went in search of a better life to Middle East and returned home tortured. All sympathise her, feel for her, speak ill of those who held her down while nails were put into her. Some even speak of providing housing for her.

But the question remains posed whether this be the story of one individual or of a generation?

Thousands of Sri Lankan women travel each year to the unknown lands for work. Their profession being “house maid” to those who have signed contracts and bought them over through agencies. In short they are on their way to the hands of a modern form of slavery that is existent and encouraged in its existence by many nations in the name of economic elevation.

But what be the plight of these women? It is the bleak picture that remains visible to many. Unfortunately it is equally ignored by many.

The statistics available highlight that around 15 to 20 % of these women return prematurely. Many as victims of physical abuse, with broken arms and legs gifts of efforts of escape from the homes where they remained “imprisoned”. And for some who are unfortunate, it is their lifeless body which embarks on the travel of return.

Ariyawathie is not and is unlikely the only victim of this barbaric treatment in the hands of employers. There have been many who have suffered similar or worse. The plight of those such as Thangarasa Jeyanthi be an example to this. Her suffering came in the form of being assaulted on a daily basis, cut with knife and tied with ropes and denied food. Are these shocking for the ears who jot down these complains? This seems highly doubtful as these be among common complains of many house maids who return home with shattered dreams. One may deem such situations to be the norm of the trade of house maids: a story of “she” who barters her rights with the status of house maid prior to leaving the soil of Sri Lanka. Hence she is expected to suffer in silence, die in silence and be transported back and be buried in silence.

In an essay J.C Pieris highlights that about forty bodies are brought back monthly from the Middle East to the Katunayake Airport. On an observation of numbers it is easy to perceive that this amounts to one death per day (or more). The cause of death of these maids is not sought or discussed. What being told is that deaths were caused due to natural causes. But the dilemma persists as to how a woman may break her arms and legs by jumping from 7 or 8 storied building while trying to escape from informal imprisonment of her employers due to “natural causes”!

We are left with the question of what the protection be to these women which is offered? One a rephrasing of the question we could also pose whether there be any form of protection for these women?

They who take flight with hopes, land on unknown destination to find themselves deprived of their passports which are taken by the workers of the agencies that promise them riches. They are then handed over to their masters. Despite the hardships they face, no hope is present for them as the stringent contract to which they accord is not to be breached. They are tied down by a signature or a thumb print and no help is availed to them. The misfortunate factor here remains that many of these individuals have no understanding of the dire consequences of the waiving off of rights through employment contracts provided by these agencies, which they do be it, knowingly or unknowingly.

The HRW illustrates that Sri Lankan maids and migrant workers face atrocities on a daily basis in the Middle East. These women are subjected to sexual harassment, rape, confinement, verbal and physical abuse. They work between 16-21 hours without day off during the workweek.

The time is right for each of us as citizens to spare a moment on reflection on seeking answers for a few questions.

What are we as a country doing to its citizens? More specifically some of the most vulnerable in many ways. Are we not as guilty as those who torture these women in playing dumb, deaf and blind to the reality? Have we as fellow citizens, as a nation moved towards a collective action regarding this form of barbarism that is prevalent?
Unfortunately the answers to these questions remain in the negative.

We have read the occasional articles published on the matter, and perhaps felt the anger rising within barely for seconds and then moved ahead to conveniently forgot the situation. The reaction has been of such indifference that even the knowledge of the dead bodies arriving in Katunayake on a daily basis does not seem to have an impact on many of us.

Is it the fact that we have come to accept the situation as the norm or is it that we are not bothered to be bothered?

What we need to question is the reason behind all this calamity. And majority of the time the lack of language ability of the maids is highlighted as cause. The short duration of the training provided to them prior to their departure for employment, as pointed by many of the civil society is deemed insufficient to provide the knowledge of a foreign language which becomes indispensable for her survival. Not comprehending what be the instructions given my her employers, the house maids face the wrath of the employer.

While some recommends that training and legal facilities be provided to these women and certain legislations be drafted which have for their objective the wellbeing of these women, others question the morality of encouraging the practice of packing off poor women for modern day slavery. Their question being, why cannot Sri Lanka provide employment facilities and better living conditions for these workers within the country leading to curb the flow of Sri Lankan house maids to the Middle East, risking their lives in order get a few thousand rupees.

The debate on the matter continues and we follow the debate since we love the drama that it emanates. The horrific stories of suffering and torture of these women feed the grotesque taste of the public. But when the information is absorbed, the horror felt, the pivotal task of reacting in a constructive and productive manner appears to be what is lacking. We lay in sleep for the next drama to arrive providing us opportunity to debate, to speak of what needs be implemented, and what never be implemented in reality.

The story of Ariyawathie has not reached its happy ending. Her objects of torture being removed she heads home to her family after eleven days of residential treatment. She is grateful to the hospital workers who have treated her with kindness. She expects compensation from the Saudi Arabia for the alleged torture inflicted upon her.

As response to her accusations, the Saudi officials release statement refuting the claims and consider the incident to be baseless and “one big drama”. The embassy spokesman adds “the important factor is that this housemaid cannot pass security checks and sophisticated machines at Riyadh and Colombo international Airports with these metal things inside her body.”

It’s another question of debate. Is this the commencement for debate on the credibility of the security systems in these airports? But another question of debate being as to the means these nails wound up under the skin of the former house maid.

As public loves debate, the debates shall continue in length. Nevertheless what needs be noted is whether common sleep of indifference shall prevail or whether the story of Ariyawhathie would be an exception to the norm, paving way for a better tomorrow for these house maids.
Or better would be to hope that it be a step towards Sri Lanka’s pet name “the land of housemaids” be used with less frequency in foreign land.