Rain Rain

Well,obviously I belong to the second group.Found this caption in the FB. Really  I don't understand why rain fascinates me.But it does.May it be a slight drizzle accompanied by a   lovely rainbow or a heavy out burst of gods outrage with the back ground of ear splitting thundering,I can't stop loving it.I love the drops of sky swooping down in slender threads, down down down and finally kiss the parched earth tenderly blending with it as long lost lovers.I love the smell of damp earth and the pitter patter as the drops dance on the fallen leaves.It is pure music , rain drops on the roof, on the window pane and everywhere: slow and enchanting, jumping into a quick beat all of a sudden and again drifting off to a lazy soothing tempo.
    But to feel the rain best,you have to be part of it like in all other things.That is why we couldn't resist jumping into the rain when we were kids.Deaf ears turned to all adult concerns of catching colds,fever and so forth, we danced in the rain, and those were magical memories.Sadly, now that I am older, even if I walk without an umbrella in a slight drizzle I get stared at by at least a dozen.So wouldn't even think of dancing in the rain unless I'm secure inside my garden walls.Yet every time it rains I think my soul jumps out and dances in the rain, feeling the cool pureness of those magical drops heeling and soothing myself. Why else do I feel immensely happy just like a kid every time it rains ?

Women's Day

While having breakfast at Doctor's Tea Room  I happen to see  in some television channel glamorous celebrations  of the Womens' Day.A bridal show is going on and numerous beauties in various breathtakingly elegant dresses are floating around the stage bestowing enchanting smiles to the audience.A fellow doctor who was there before me inform that this bridal show was preceded by a cookery show or something where a male chef demonstrated  how to prepare some wonderful western dish.
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Around 11 am as I am walking along the corridor, I am lucky to catch another glimpse of the celebrations. This time a lady is demonstrating how to dress yourself in a Kimono or something like the favorite Princess of a certain Korian drama.No doubt that this would be really useful to our ladies  who  worship the actress in question and will no doubt follow her path and bring justice and peace to this land.
...................................................................................................................................................................Later on I am writing some reports at my work place when one of my nurses beckon me to come out qucikly .A little girl of around six to seven years is  seated on a bench where patients usually  sit.On her lap is her sister or brother whom she is feeding some liquid  through a feeding bottle.Her legs barely touch the floor and she is fascinated by her surroundings that she forgets at time to position the teet of the bottle properly.
             Some minutes pass, and their mother who appears to be a bit mentally subnormal appears there.When confronted by my nurse about the leaving the kids there, she meekly blurts that she went to the clinic to get her medicine, grabs the two kids and hurry away like a frightened deer.A woman  who is sick and needs care, left with two more kids. What will  that small girl's fate be, I wonder .Will she be  a beautiful bride,a jewel of the Palace, or will I see her kid one day, on the same bench on another Womens' day? Happy Women's Day Folks! 

Peter Pan

Peter Pan, that was and still is one of the most wonderful movies I have enjoyed.Yet I never like its ending I guess.I mean not growing up was what made Peter Pan so unique. As kids we all believed in such vivid fantasies of enchanting fairies, beautiful maidens, dashingly handsome princes who gallop on horses white as snow, evil monsters and demons lurking under your bed ready to pounce on you as soon as your light went off and so on and on.It was a pure world where good was always  beautiful and the bad ugly and scary.And no matter how much frightened we were when good fought the bad, deep inside our heart we always knew  the good will have victory on their side.That was the world of Peter Pan.
                                           Yet unlike Peter Pan, we grew up. We no more believe in monsters under the bed and we have given up hope our hope of the dashing handsome prince longtime back( stability and money instead please.)Good rarely wins and fighting for the good cause will cost you dearly even your life. Everything runs on money and power and good is what they decide to be.So we pretend not to see the corruption wrap ourselves in our own little worlds and believe we are perfect, and happy. That's why Peter Pan was different.
He refused to grow up and become a mechanical human, he did not give up his beliefs.But then in the end he is all alone as all other kids leave him and become adults. Guess it is an extremely lonely life when everyone you get familiar with  just leave yet, you remain unchanged.Does it mean being unique always has a price to pay?

L.O.V.E.

Love is when mom carried me in her arms ,
(a child more stubborn than a mule)
everyday , miles on her feet with her to her job
and her being merely out of her teens
Love is when dad took me to school,
the head girl, admired by all
and held my hand and helped me a cross the road
I was still his little girl, no second thoughts
Love was when we drenched in rain
wet like a pair of ducks but happy all the same
Love was when we played side by side
you were the best, and I the worst, but together things were fine
Love was staying by you when you crumbled
hoping to have the courage to run away from it all  as seeing you in pain,
 was hell brought alive
but not having the heart to leave you alone
 had to be strong as on me you relied
Love was small puppies sweet and warm
and little kids who smile though they know they have no hope at all
Love is dancing away with the fireflies
whisking yourself away to a dreamland
Love is being confused whether to be bold or not
take the first step or lose you, I do not know
Love is being elated when our hands entangled
and the sighs when you embrace me and say we need to part
Love is thousand stolen glances, lost in memories
Love is being with you ,not been able to let go,
even when the love is long gone

අ )හේතුව

සක්වල ගල පීරල හොයලත් 
හමු නොවි හති වැටී හුන් විට
තමි වැටහුනේ මට
මන් තනිවෙන්න හේතුව 
වෙනින් මොකවත්ම නෙමෙයි 
අහේතුව බව

Choices

Yesterday, I came to my room during my lunch hour and all of a sudden it came to me that we are the result of a bundle of choices.Choices made by people  we know, choices of people we  don't know ,choices made by us, choices we are yet to make. Cannot fate be called a choice made by someone somewhere?It reminds me of a scene from a film,the name of which I have of course forgotten as usual,where one simple choice leads to a cascade of events culminating in a death of another completely unknown person.Of course choices made by others  is a bit difficult to meddle with but mostly our life is an outcome of our own choices. Its is  indeed like a huge game of gambling.The right choice made at the correct moment in your life can make you the greatest achiever while the wrong choice may not spare you any breath even to realize that you have indeed made it wrong.
In such times I guess one would really appreciate if there was someone else to make your choices.It is easy , no need to pull out what is left of your hair( if you have any left after the previous narrow escapes) and if things go wrong, hey it is not your fault. But then would that be your life then.Your will just be a puppet I guess, a mere actor in someone else's script. For life to be trully enjoyed you should be the owner of that script of  life You need to have the strength  not only to make the right choices but also to pick up the remnants to build  up your life again when the wrong choices shattersit . Easier said than done.Yet, what is the point of happiness if you don't have to sweat for it

Birds of feathers

Got up this morning totally confused.The first thing I could here was the usual morning orchestra outside my window conducted by a set of tiny birdies who have probably taken in to their mind that it is their duty to act as my alarm clock( which was extremely reliable not to wake me up until it was extremely late).So, the moment I hear the melodies of the outer world my heart rate shoots up(most probably so does my blood pressure) and a I search like a lunatic beneath the crumpled sheets and scattered pillows for my phone-fail to locate it and become more tachycardic- but finally grab it from under the bed and  peek through still 99% asleep eyelids to discover its 6.30am.The remnants of last night's sleep leave me in swift seconds as my body automatically catapults itself  out of the bed and my legs act on their own to lead me to the bathroom .And then it hits me! It's my off weekend.I tumble back on to the bed, cover my self up and sandwich my head between two pillows so that the birdies will not succeed a second time and try to calm down myself to another peaceful hour of sleep.