Showing posts with label Corona Virus Sri Lanka. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Corona Virus Sri Lanka. Show all posts

05 May 2020

Stay safe Ms Bachelet, wherever you may be




I have no idea where the United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights, Michelle Bachelet is right now. Her missives have a Geneva address, but that could be on account of the location of her office. Perhaps she’s holed/held up in her office. Perhaps at her residence. Perhaps somewhere else she was visiting but is unable to leave on account of strict restrictions on movement imposed as a measure to battle Covid-19.

I hope she is well. I hope she is safe. I hope she is washing her hands frequently. I hope she’s maintaining social distance. I hope she uses a face mask. As per precautionary protocols. I want all creatures, vocal and otherwise, powerful or powerless, young or old, male or female, belonging to every race, religious, political/ideological community and of every conceivable sexual orientation to be safe, to be in good health and at peace with themselves and one another.

na antalikkhe na samudda majje
na bappathaanan vivarang pavissa
Na vijjati so jagathippadeso
yatthatthitan tappasabhetha maccu


Thus spake Siddhartha Gauthama, the Enlightened One. In the seamless skies, in the vast ocean, deep within a mountain or anywhere else, there is no place that is known to anyone where one can from the jaws of death hide, the Buddha said.

So, let me repeat. I wish that Ms Bachelet is well, safe and in good health.  It’s something, as I mentioned, I wish on one and all, but I am thinking of Michelle in particular.

The lady has quite rightly stated in the context of combating Covid-19, that emergency powers ‘should not be a weapon Governments can wield to quash dissent, control the population, and even perpetuate their time in power.’ Indeed! Well said! Not some deep philosophical observation, true, but still. Needed to be said.

Now the UNHRC has clearly stated that international law does allow states to restrict some rights in order to protect public health, with additional powers available if a state of emergency is declared. The UNHRC states that more than 80 countries have announced a state of emergency related to Covid-19 and that others have put in place ‘exceptional measures.’

The World Health Organization (WHO), i.e. the supreme multilateral body pertaining to healthcare and disease control and prevention, and a sister agency of the one that Michelle heads, is doing its best but is understandably a bit clueless. The WHO cannot be blamed. The world finds itself in trial-and-error mode. What we know today we didn’t know yesterday and might be found to be false tomorrow. The WHO initially told the world that the virus cannot be transferred from human to human. They recanted. The WHO claimed that face masks are unnecessary; now they strongly recommend them. The WHO issued guidelines for disposal of bodies, but those guidelines have been brought into question by the fact that those handling cadavers have been infected and of course the need to apply the better-safe-than-sorry adage given the enormity of overall ignorance about the virus’ behavior.

So, individual states are doing what they feel is best. Sure, that can be a convenient cover for the kinds of excesses Michelle is worried about. Such things have happened and are happening. The USA, to use an analogy, bombed countries into the middle ages so that they can enjoy democracy (hmm… well ...so that the US could obtain strategic edge, expand markets and plunder resources).

Anyway, someone in Michelle’s office has made a list and it’s being shaken many times. Of the 80 that have declared emergency, we told that there are 15 where ‘the allegations were deemed most troubling.’ Sri Lanka is one of the ‘dirty fifteen,’ no surprise there given Michelle’s ignorance and/or arrogance based in part probably by lies agreed upon by the cabal that controls the rights mafia, supported in no small measure by the rent-a-signature cohorts in Sri Lanka masquerading as rights activists.

I don’t know in what ways Nigeria, Kenya, South Africa and other countries have erred in Michelle’s eyes. Georgette Gagnon, Director of Field Operations (nice names they come up with, almost as though the UNHRC is a war machine!) has claimed ‘there are probably several dozen more we could have highlighted.’ How very generous of the UNHRC not to name and shame them.


The only reference to Sri Lanka is the fact that ‘more than 26,800 people have been detained.’  Detained for what? Well, curfew violation.

What would Michelle have authorities do? Should Sri Lanka have not imposed curfew? Having imposed curfew, should Sri Lanka lift it because Michelle is upset? Is Michelle saying that those who violate curfew should be ignored, that the police and security forces tasked to enforce such restrictions should turn a blind eye on them? Should the violators have been patted on their backs and conferred medals for bravery? Should they have been given lollipops?

Michelle’s ignorance is legendary of course. Just after the much-talked of ‘Mannar Mass Graves’ were found out to have been more than 400 years old, the lady referred to the same in dire tones of censure when speaking of Sri Lanka. She has bones to pick, clearly.

Interestingly, Michelle hasn’t included Nepal and India in the list of ‘dirty’ nations, even though civilians were brutally attacked in both countries. Containment measures imposed by India resulted in migrant workers being thrown out of their houses by landlords and hundreds of thousands forced to walk hundreds of miles to their villages.

Sri Lanka, in contrast, took every possible measure to fly back citizens trapped in other countries. Sri Lanka extended the visas of all foreigners currently in the island and unable to get to their respective home countries, assuring them that they will be treated as though they were also citizens. Sri Lanka even treated infected patients in ships that happened to be in Sri Lankan waters. Every possible step has been taken to track and trace the possibly infected. Quarantine, isolation and treatment — that’s the order of the day. Systems are in place to ensure that the  sequestered don’t run out of food or medicine, especially the poor. Measures are in place to ensure that schools and universities continue to function even in these restrained circumstances.

Perfect? Of course not. The testing regime is weak and is only now taking off the ground. There is abuse in the distribution system. Sri Lanka is also in trial-and-error mode, after all.

What is interesting is that the Sri Lankan people have not protested the so-called ‘brutal lockdowns.' Even the Opposition (which include the darlings of rights agencies who are clueless about their track records and machinations or else know but choose to be ignorant) hasn’t complained. In fact when they do whimper, it is to urge the government not to open up too soon. All relevant agencies, the WHO included, have praised Sri Lanka’s efforts so far. We are not out of the woods, most certainly not. We might see things getting much worse before it gets better. That’s not on account of being lax though.

Maybe Michelle, wherever she may be, needs to feel relevant, fearing perhaps that she might be the victim of a redundancy edict or cost-cutting measures of the UN post-corona.

Poor thing.

She’s exposed herself once again. The government would do well to ignore her altogether. She doesn’t deserve an answer.

She, on the other hand, could take a chill-pill. Who knows, it might work in the absence of a treatment regime guaranteed to succeed.  In any event, let me for the third time say it: I hope she is safe and in good health, maintaining social distance, wearing a face mask etc. And I hope she reflects deep on what her life has been and the errors of her ways.

Perhaps the following words of the Buddha might be relevant.

Time passes. The night ends, consuming life. The life to live diminishes. Those who are at death’s door may be fearful and therefore, in anticipation of the bliss of nirvana, is well advised to let go of attachment.’ (Accenti Sutra, Samyutta Nikaha).  

We are all dying and the fact is palpably evident thanks to Covid-19. Michelle Bachelet, wherever she is, is clinging to ‘Sri Lanka’ for dear life, ironically. A burden unnecessary, that’s what it is.


RELATED ARTICLES:

When you have a bone to pick
Michelle Bachelet needs a tutor
Mangala Samaraweera and his little pals of spin
Taking ownership of reconciliation: truths, half-truths and humbuggery
On misnaming victim, misconstruing victimization and wishing away aggressor
Being in the Republic of Fear
Gota, parliament and the question of representation  Avurudu in enhanced circumstances  The Theory of Three Chillie Plants  Vulnerability, fear and the legitimizing of prejudice
Prioritize the poor and vulnerable
Homovirus and Coronavaccine
The WHO, 'civil society' and the parameters of sanity A test run for a better tomorrow When the Welikada Prison was razed to the ground
Looking for the idyllic in dismal times
Avurudu in the time of Covid-19 There's canvas and brush to paint the portraits of love 
Vo, Italy: the village that stopped the Coronavirus
We need 'no-charge' humanity
Liaashya keeps live alive, by living 
 
malindasenevi@gmail.com.

30 April 2020

Being in the Republic of Fear


Pic, courtesy www.dailymirror.lk
Just over a year ago terrorists adhering to the Islamic faith (as interpreted by them), i.e. the National Thowheeth Jama'ath or ‘National Monotheism Organization,’ executed several brutal attacks that left over 300 people dead, an equal or more number injured, caused much damage to the establishments targeted and wrecked the tourist industry.

The following is a part of some observations that my niece, Duranya Freeman, penned from Colorado, USA: ‘Every terrorist has a goal: to make us fear what we love the most. To force us to feel that nowhere is safe. Yet terrorists only truly succeed when they divide us. When our inner fear turns outwards and we start pointing fingers at one another.’

Today, we are faced with a different kind of threat. There’s no identifiable terrorist here, but terror there certainly is. The effect is the same even though there’s no real ‘objective’ that we can discern. It has, in Duranya’s words, ‘made us fear what we love the most, forced us to feel that nowhere is safe.’ It can and in certain ways has divided us. And we do see inner fear turning outwards. There’s enough finger-pointing too.

Eran Wickramaratne, pastor cum politician, made an interesting point in an interview recently. The caption under the link to the relevant YouTube video read, 'හරි ගියහම ආණ්ඩුව, වරදුනහම ජනතාව -- එරාන් හතර අතට නෙළයි.’ [hari giyahama aanduwa, veradunahama janathaava — eran hathara athata nelai]. The point Eran makes is interesting and true. When things go right, the government takes the credit, but when things go wrong it’s the people who are at fault,’ he states and the statement is ‘flourished’ so to speak by his fans for whom Eran has whacked left and right.

It is correct, but it’s only part of the story. Flip it and Eran doesn’t quite look the hero his fan(s) believe he is: ‘When things go right, it’s the people (security forces, police, others in the public sector, especially medical personnel) but when things go wrong, it’s the Government.’

That’s finger-pointing and possibly prompted by fear/arrogance that have little to do with Covid-19.  The more serious manifestation is ostracizing particular categories of people. Stigma. That’s the word. The first detection of an infected person  was ‘news’ of course. The first death too. Certain sections of the media pounced on it. The particular individual’s basic right to dignity and self-respect was brushed aside. Sure, fear might have played a role, but that doesn’t explain the shameless salivating exhibited by certain media houses. It was as though they were reporting about a mass murderer, not a patient.

Then it was the Muslims who were ostracized on account of the identity of several of those among the first to succumb to the virus, helped in no small measure of course by certain fundamentalist Muslim groups who raised a hue and cry over the method of disposing bodies. There was fear there, one might argue, worry over divine wrath if you will as per particular readings of religious texts, but politics had a hand too.

Now it is the turn of the security forces, in particular the Navy simply because some sailors picked up the virus in the course of duty, a duty which was part of a national drive to protect the entire citizenry, mind you.

Of course, the nature of the virus does indicate that no one is safe and there are no safe places to hide. What we need to understand however is that we don’t help ourselves or each other by letting fear dictate our choices, be it word or deed.

Now there is a fairly broad protection regime that has been recommended. ‘Stay home’ captures much of it. Outside of the specifics, however, there is a term that might help us dig deeper into the dilemma and obtain more wholesome answers. Dasein.

Dasein is a German word [da as in ‘there’ and sein meaning ‘being’. Pronounced as daːzaɪn, it means, ‘being there,’ or ‘presence.’ Apparently it is translated into English as ‘existence.’ The German philosopher Martin Heidegger is said to have used the word to refer to the experience of being that is peculiar to human beings. Now that would be broad and rather embarrassing. For our (as in the human species) ‘being’ has been a threat to the entire planet, its flora and fauna, natural cycles and indeed overall health, not to mention a threat to ourselves as well.

Can’t we just be? We have been forced to reconsider ourselves, our behavior, our ‘non-negotiables’ even. And in the collapse of the dimensions of our collective ‘being’ species threatened by the systems we have put in place or are forced to live within, are actually breathing better. And it’s not just the creatures we have as a collective treated as dispensable in the pursuit of objectives; Colombo’s air and water quality have improved, for example.

We have discovered ways of being that are, well, ‘not all that bad,’ even though we’ve had to do without dozens of things and activities which we previously believed are of utmost import for a meaningful existence (or ‘being’). All of a sudden, the ‘imperative’ of a corporate/profit driven set of processes (for the betterment of one and all via ‘trickle down effect’ barring of course the thousands that have to starve or be killed for reasons of sustaining these systems) looks silly. It is interesting that such entities and their apologists are even now clamoring for bailouts from governments in the name of those they exploit. ‘We can’t afford to have businesses closing down because this means people will be out of jobs and won’t be able to feed their families,’ they cry.

Their ‘being’ and the ’being/beings’ of the system they are part of, advocate and thrive in are very different from the being of the ordinary citizen and of course the ‘being’ of the earth.

We have to be. Our ‘being’ has to be different. In fact it may have to be the polar opposite of the being we’ve experienced, championed and thought was inevitable. Maybe that is the real fear. We may be terrified that things will not be the same ever again. However, if we stepped back or even stopped in our tracked and reflected on ‘being’ (or even decided ‘to be’ in a different kind of way) we might be less worried.

The entire world has realized that we live in a Republic of Fear. We can however decide to live in a Republic of Being. A county called Dasein in the most wholesome, compassionate and humble reading of that word.





This article was first published in the DAILY MIRROR [March 30, 2020]


RELATED ARTICLES

Gota, parliament and the question of representation 
Avurudu in enhanced circumstances 
The Theory of Three Chillie Plants 
Vulnerability, fear and the legitimizing of prejudice

Homovirus and Coronavaccine
The WHO, 'civil society' and the parameters of sanity
A test run for a better tomorrow
When the Welikada Prison was razed to the ground
Looking for the idyllic in dismal times

Avurudu in the time of Covid-19 There's canvas and brush to paint the portraits of love 
Vo, Italy: the village that stopped the Coronavirus
We need 'no-charge' humanity
Liaashya keeps live alive, by living 

malindasenevi@gmail.com

26 April 2020

The Theory of Three Chillie Plants


I have a friend. Let me call him Nadesan. Now Nadesan left Sri Lanka more than 25 years ago when he was just five years old. The LTTE had robbed his family of the only asset they owned, a tractor. They managed to flee to Canada where life turned out to be very harsh. Nadesan made it through those tough years. Then he decided to visit Sri Lanka. And he decided this is the country where he wants to spend the rest of his life.

Young, endowed with an absolutely brilliant mind and possessed by a rare determination to set right every wrong he noticed, Nadesan, now married and with two children (at the time I first met him) talked to anyone and everyone he thought could help. Let me not get ahead of his epic story which, in a way, is just starting. Instead let me relate an observation he shared with me.

‘My father-in-law has grown chillies for many years. I figured that if enough households grew chillies, we can bring down the price and everyone will save a little bit of money.

‘I have met lots of people who complain about things. They say “the government didn’t do this, didn’t to that.” So I ask them “have you grown anything in your life?” And if they haven’t I ask them, “if you can’t even grow three chillie plants, what right do you have to complain?” And I give them some plants.’

Now all this was long before anyone had heard of Covid-19. This afternoon my wife related a ‘growing’ story. She had visited a nursery nearby. The person who ran it had said he had 50,000 rupees worth of vegetable plants which no one had wanted to buy. In fact he had offered free vegetable plants to people who came to buy flowering plants and that hadn’t worked either. Came Covid-19 and after a few weeks, he had managed to clear his stocks! 

Sri Lanka, then, has started growing in ways long abandoned when we embraced a different kind of ‘growth’. Growth of per capita GDP. Growth in the production of goods and services. Growth in capital goods, labor force, technology and human capital. Growth in aggregated market value.

All of these things went hand in hand with depletion. Depletion of forest cover. Depletion in community integrity. Depletion in solidarity. Depletion in the use of traditional technologies. Depletion in food security. Depletion in the earth’s capacity to maintain natural cycles. Depletion in fertility. Species depletion. Depletion in the ability to demand from and supply to the market.

There was ‘growth’ too, it must be acknowledged. Growth in CO2 emissions. Growth in wars. Growth in pollution. Growth in the production of weapons of mass destruction. Growth in the number and frequency of natural disasters. Growth in arrogance.

Covid-19 forced us to stop, metaphorically and literally. We stopped. We looked around. We looked ahead and things looked bleak. We looked behind and found a multitude of errors. We saw pathways abandoned so long ago that it was hard to even detect trace.

And we discovered or rather we are discovering that we got growth all wrong. We are realizing that growth took us up the garden path and away from the vegetable plots. The road taken glittered so much that we went blind. 

Three chillie plants. Think about it. We were reluctant to plant just one, weren’t we? We had hundreds of reasons not to, hadn’t we? We were high on complaints, low on self-reliance, weren’t we?

Three chillie plants. It would be very rare for anyone not to have the space to grow three chillie plants. Forget three chillie plants. How about just one?  Let that be a little something that gives you a little (not absolute) right to whine over things you don’t have (a lot of which you probably don’t need).

One chillie plant. Can we start there? Gut feeling: it will lead to two chillie plants and then three. And then other plants.

Nadesan doesn’t see himself as a visionary. He’s a hands-on, feet-rooted kind of person. He does not whine. Let’s raise a cheer to that young man who wishes to remain anonymous but has said and done something quite profound. No one has called it ‘Nadesan’s Theory of Three Chillie Plants.’ Not yet.  Forget the theory. Remember the plant. Remember to plant. 


Other articles in the series 'In Passing...':  [published in the 'Daily News']   
 
Let's not stop singing in the lifeboats
When the Welikada Prison was razed to the ground 

Looking for the idyllic in dismal times    
Water the gardens with the liquid magic of simple ideas, right now    
There's canvas and brush to paint the portraits of love    
We might as well arrest the house!
The 'village' in the 'city' has more heart than concrete
Vo, Italy: the village that stopped the Coronavirus    

We need 'no-charge' humanity 
The unaffordable, as defined by Nihal Fernando
Heroes of our times Let's start with the credits, shall we? 
The 'We' that 'I' forgot 
 'Duwapang Askey,' screamed a legend, almost 40 years ago
Dances with daughters
Reflections on shameless writing
Is the old house still standing?
 Magic doesn't make its way into the classifieds
Small is beautiful and is a consolation  
Distance is a product of the will
Akalanka Athukorala, at 13+ already a hurricane hunter
Did the mountain move, and if so why?
Ever been out of Colombo?
Anya Raux educated me about Juvenile Idiopathic Arthritis (JIA)
Wicky's Story You can always go to GOAT Mountain
Let's learn the art of embracing damage
Kandy Lake is lined with poetry
There's never a 'right moment' for love
A love note to an unknown address in Los Angeles
A dusk song for Rasika Jayakody
How about creating some history?
How far away are the faraway places?
There ARE good people!
Re-placing people in the story of schooldays   
When we stop, we can begin to learn
Routine and pattern can checkmate poetry
Janani Amanda Umandi threw a b'day party for her father 
Sriyani and her serendipity shop
Forget constellations and the names of oceans
Where's your 'One, Galle Face'?
Maps as wrapping paper, roads as ribbons
Yasaratne, the gentle giant of Divulgane  
Katharagama and Athara Maga
Victories are made by assists
Lost and found between weaver and weave
The Dhammapada and word-intricacies
S.A. Dissanayake taught children to walk in the clouds
White is a color we forget too often
 
The most beautiful road is yet to meet a cartographer

malindasenevi@gmail.com

20 April 2020

The underside of sequestering

You can't just suit up and keep deprivation away
 Curfews, lockdowns, quarantining and other forms of sequestering are not all bad. There are positives. There are signs that limited human activity is improving the health of the planet. Marginally of course and we really don’t know for how long. There’s a greater awareness of how utterly selfish we have been as a species. If there were doubts about over-consumption, they’ve been laid to rest. Needs and wants are scrambling to their true values. Collective has acquired greater value vis-a-vis the individual. We are rediscovering the world, the nation, the community, the neighborhood, the family and ourselves.

All good. 

We need to focus on positives. We need to keep the spirits high and depression at bay. We have to keep perspective. Abiding by and affirming the Sathara Brahma Viharana seems all the more sensible. The logic of conduct framed by compassion, loving kindness, rejoicing in others’ joys and equanimity is clearly compelling. 

There are thousands of feel-good stories. There are thousands of stories about people and the things they do or say, people who don’t make the news usually.

I heard about a female employee of the Colombo Municipal Council being interviewed on Derana TV. She said ‘me wasangathe iwara wunaama api hemotama awurudu ne, nedda mahattayo?’ [Once this pandemic is done it will be ‘avurudu’ for all of us, isn’t that so, sir?]

There’s softness, innocence, equanimity and conviction in those simple words. And then there are stories without quotes. Or names. People helping people. Not just the rich helping the poor. That also happens of course. It’s ‘news’ because, well, that’s not normal, for CSR projects are about brand-building mostly and target awards. It’s different when the humble think of sharing or giving.

All feel-good stuff. And yet, there’s an underside which romanticized rendition or rendition of the romantic can hide. There are the anomalies. Indeed there is the accentuation of anomalies and related deprivation.

If it’s about basics then it’s about food and medicine, assuming there is a roof over your head and you are clothed. Think of the urban poor. There’s no space to grow food. Everything has to be purchased. Now think of a person who is dependent on a daily wage. Curfew and other restrictions have effectively put a full stop to income earning opportunities.

Three-wheel drivers, mechanics, lorry drivers, bus conductors and those who labor in a myriad other ways don’t really earn enough to save. They don’t have disposable incomes. They can cut down on non-essentials, they can adjust consumption patterns, but they quickly run out of bucks. 

Let us not forget that the service sector dominates our economy. Let us not forget that a sizable portion of the population can neither demand from nor supply to the market. Let us not forget how big our informal sector is. Let us remember that a significant percentage of the people in these ‘areas’ are in a hand-to-mouth mode of existence.

And let’s not assume that they want handouts. I know many people in these categories who have told me that they are not beggars waiting for the government to give them food stamps. They want the opportunity to go out and earn some money. They are proud. They do understand the nature of the threat and the logic of restrictions, but they are the frontline of the hunger-army, so to speak. They get hit first.

In the USA and even here in Sri Lanka, the talk of ‘stimulus packages’ is about ensuring that corporates survive. It’s the trickle-down logic and one is reminded of that classic Beetle Bailey cartoon where the observation is made that money doesn’t trickle down, ‘only pain does.’

What happens to the nurse, the attendant, the person pumping petrol, the drivers of lorries that deliver vegetables, meats, eggs, other things essential and non-essential, the choon-paan malli, the other deliverers of everything and anything, from pizzas to gas, the pharmacy-assistant, the policeman and soldier at checkpoints, the PHI and the undertaker? What of their families?

Is it enough to say ‘you are our heroes!’? Is it enough to say ‘Kudos to our public service,’ and add, ‘we are sorry we vilified you guys left, right and center all the years’? And how long will it take to forget after we are through all this, hopefully soon? 

There’s an element of elitism in romanticizing the situation, lifting spirits and being positive notwithstanding. There’s an element of class privilege. And in the rush we forget or brush aside the structures that generate poverty. We ignore the laws, processes and institutional arrangement which inevitably create these conditions.

There’s an underside that’s not pretty. It’s an underside that doesn’t get written. It’s an underside, it can be argued, which is the bedrock on which glittering edifices are constructed. It is an underside that enables privilege. It can crumble and bring the mountains down. It can revolt and reorder the earth in more wholesome ways.

It won’t go away.  And while it exists, it should not be forgotten or buried in the romanticization or over-fragranced in the bloomage that is class privilege.



Other articles in the series 'In Passing...':  [published in the 'Daily News']   
 
Let's not stop singing in the lifeboats
When the Welikada Prison was razed to the ground 

Looking for the idyllic in dismal times    
Water the gardens with the liquid magic of simple ideas, right now    
There's canvas and brush to paint the portraits of love    
We might as well arrest the house!
The 'village' in the 'city' has more heart than concrete
Vo, Italy: the village that stopped the Coronavirus    

We need 'no-charge' humanity 
The unaffordable, as defined by Nihal Fernando
Heroes of our times Let's start with the credits, shall we? 
The 'We' that 'I' forgot 
 'Duwapang Askey,' screamed a legend, almost 40 years ago
Dances with daughters
Reflections on shameless writing
Is the old house still standing?
 Magic doesn't make its way into the classifieds
Small is beautiful and is a consolation  
Distance is a product of the will
Akalanka Athukorala, at 13+ already a hurricane hunter
Did the mountain move, and if so why?
Ever been out of Colombo?
Anya Raux educated me about Juvenile Idiopathic Arthritis (JIA)
Wicky's Story You can always go to GOAT Mountain
Let's learn the art of embracing damage
Kandy Lake is lined with poetry
There's never a 'right moment' for love
A love note to an unknown address in Los Angeles
A dusk song for Rasika Jayakody
How about creating some history?
How far away are the faraway places?
There ARE good people!
Re-placing people in the story of schooldays   
When we stop, we can begin to learn
Routine and pattern can checkmate poetry
Janani Amanda Umandi threw a b'day party for her father 
Sriyani and her serendipity shop
Forget constellations and the names of oceans
Where's your 'One, Galle Face'?
Maps as wrapping paper, roads as ribbons
Yasaratne, the gentle giant of Divulgane  
Katharagama and Athara Maga
Victories are made by assists
Lost and found between weaver and weave
The Dhammapada and word-intricacies
S.A. Dissanayake taught children to walk in the clouds
White is a color we forget too often
 
The most beautiful road is yet to meet a cartographer

malindasenevi@gmail.com