Drift Reality

It’s been nearly two years since my trip to Sri Lanka and when I see myself then, I notice something in my eyes that was so strong and energetic and I realize that whatever it was has been fading ever since I returned and started to become entrenched in everything that entails a normal life.

Some people are meant for home and some people are meant for the road. People have told me to settle down, grow roots, build on something, and plug in to what is around me. People have told me that it is time to let go of my notions and dreams of what it is to wander the Earth. People have told me that I should start thinking about my future. Maybe I’ve listened to people a little too much.

I think what I should tell people is that when you are traveling, you are plugging into something. You’re plugging into the notion that the world is infinitely larger than you, but at the same time, it is for you. It doesn’t want to overwhelm you, it just wants to teach you and if you are open, you can learn something far greater than anything you would learn in law school or medical school.

When I see myself on tape it doesn’t make me think about how young and naive I was. It doesn’t make me smirk at how blissfully ignorant I was of all the evil that exists in the world and it doesn’t make me happy to be older and further from those childish notions of life. It makes me think about how the hell I’m going to get back on the road.

As we trucked on towards Nuwara Eliya, I looked up into the sky and suddenly felt overwhelmed by everything inside and around me.

I remember leaning back in my seat, gazing out the window and suddenly, the haze which had seemed to blur the world for the past few days, dissipated and was replaced with green hills of crystalline clarity.

I sat up in my seat and quickly rolled down the window and was greeted by gusts of cool breeze which breathed life through my tussled hair and into my throbbing temples.

I closed my eyes for a moment and suddenly felt as though the wind was blowing away all the intensity of the past. All the filth of the city, the dirt roads, the oppressive heat, and my own stickly dried sweat seemed to sweep away in the instant I felt the wind.

Looking up at the sky, I saw a deep blue that made me think of the ocean and the sky and heaven all at once. It was a deep blue that I hadn’t seen since the unfettered vision of childhood. I lay back in my seat and felt as though everything in the world was perfect.

But everything in the world wasn’t perfect.

All the bliss of that instant suddenly squirmed into a question and that question was, where was she?

And then it hit me, what was all this around me without anyone to share it with?

This, the most beautiful thing possible, which was quite possibly the perfect experience, was inadequate without someone to share it with.

The thought filled me with fear that I was alone, but also with excitement because this moment was proof to me that a person’s true nature above all else, is to love.

Esala has been sitting quietly on the deck for the past five hours and I’m not entirely sure why.

Throughout this trip of ours, the three of us: Esala, Mansur, and myself, have developed a friendship.

It begun strangely enough, with a conception of employer and employee, seeing as how Mansur was actually being paid to drive through the country and Esala to accompany me.

As a result, decisions regarding intent were somehow delegated to me and answers did not come easily. Gradually, I came to understand that the situation was about my experience and acted commensurately, and only then, I realized that the situation was never really about my experience, but about the experience and it was then that things began to flow.

It was the first time that any of us had visited the Kandalama, the only difference being that both Esala and Mansur had lived in this country for all their lives. After what seemed like an endless span of time spent traveling on a winding dirt path surrounded by jungle, we finally emerged onto the Kandalama grounds and all of us rejoiced. As we drove up, we were greeted by men in pristine white suits who grabbed our luggage and then disappeared into the hotel with it.

An attractive Sri Lankan girl led me to a deck and presented me with a fruit drink. Suddenly, Esala and Mansur disappeared from sight and mind and I basked in the pleasure of the luxury that surrounded me.

Then I realized that for the first time in several days, I was without Esala and Mansur and I curiously headed back into the lobby. They were standing at the front desk, arguing with the lobby attendant, who was insisting that they stay in the servants quarters.

I responded that Esala was accompanying me on the trip. The attendant nodded and murmured some words to Esala and Mansur. Shortly thereafter, Mansur headed back to the van and drove off.

Later, I found out from Esala that Mansur had gone to stay in the servants quarters. and from a hotel employee, I found out that the servant’s quarters consisted of a single bed in a shared room with two meals/day, which essentially consisted of rice and curry.

Less than three hundred feet away, Esala and I were dining in the hotel’s five-star restaurant and I was delightedly heaping gourmet cuisine onto my plate while Esala contented himself with a simple plate of rice and curry.

Today, I spent time at the hotel spa and later, drinking cocktails by the infinity pool while Esala stayed in the room with his school books.

Now he is out there, sitting out on the deck, staring into the jungle. Perhaps he feels uncomfortable in this hotel. Perhaps it is the fact that Mansur is confined to a Spartan one-bedroom accommodation while he is confined to the accommodations in the most glamorous hotel in all Sri Lanka that bothers him. Perhaps he feels uncomfortable because he has never been in a place like this and doesn’t know how to enjoy it. Perhaps it bothers him that all of the employees in the hotel are Sri Lankan while all the guests are Europeans - perhaps it bothers him that the most beautiful accomodations in Sri Lanka is not for Sri Lankans.

The University of Kalania is about seven miles outside the city of Colombo. I chose to live in Colombo on the advice of the Fullbright organization.

The University facilities are not quite up to the standard that the people in the United States are used to.

I taught Chemistry to both undergraduate as well as graduate students.

I went there to develop a Masters program in environmental chemistry, which I did.

All of the windows of the offices have to be kept open because of the humidity and the problems with mildew and mold growing.

The teaching itself was a bit challenging because of the unreliable state with electricity. A lot of the time, the lights would go out as well as the ceiling fan and the heat can get overwhelming.

On top of that, there are flocks of mosquitoes swarming around you.

The heat, humidity, and a lot of times it rains and the sounds of raindrops can be a bit too loud.

All around, giving a simple lecture is not like what people normally envision in this country.

The rooms are often times, not kept very clean. There are animals like cats and dogs running in an out. A lot of times, the custodians don’t come around and keep the rooms very clean.

Of the nine months that I was there, the school was only opened about for of the months. There were continuous demonstrations and they would burn buildings and the school would shut down quite frequently.

There are groups of people who feel that the university is part of the establishment, which is not looking after their well-being. There are over forty different political parties and there are communist parties, parties that are sympathetic towards the Tamils, and they continuously want to express their feeling over the way that the Sri Lankan government conducts itself.

The Vice Chancellor of Kalania was understandably, very nervous about keeping the school open so as soon as he heard about demonstrations, he would order the administration to close the building.

While we walked through the University, my Father began telling me about his experiences with the school. “Many people dream about Sri Lanka as the place to come and soak up the sun, snorkel, or visit ancient ruins,” he began. “In this sense it’s a very lovely place but there is another side to this country that I’ve been exposed to as a result of teaching at the University here.

These students are outside of my office everyday, in the sweltering sun and humidity, simply because they couldn’t find a seat in the library. If they are lucky, they can sometimes find a piece of rickety furniture where they can sit down and share lunch. Three students: two girls and one boy always seemed to be around my office when I get there at eight in the morning.

Today, they tried to explain in broken English that it was their last day of examinations and they just wanted to say goodbye. As of today, they are through with their college life. They don’t have jobs though, nor do they expect one fairly soon. That is their karma, to be in Sri Lanka with no bright prospects. Nevertheless, they are glad that their schooling is going to be over, I am sure.

They are lucky compared to the 90,000 high school graduates who were selected to go to university but could not find openings because of backlogs created by an ineffective political situation and bureaucratic shortcomings in the system.

The Chola empire came to power in the late 9th century and lasted until around the late 13th century. For about seventy-five years, Sri Lanka was ruled as a Chola province and it was during this time that the practice of Buddhism became surpassed by Hinduism. The Chola empire chose Polonnaruwa to be their capital as a result of its location near the Mahaweli Ganga, a river that formed a natural barrier to potential Sinhalese attacks from the South.

In 1070 AD, King Vijayabahu I drove the Chola out of Sri Lanka and recaptured the former Sri Lankan capital of Anuradhapura. But instead of renaming it as their capital, they instead chose Polonnaruwa, for the same reason as the Chola, because it offered a more defensible position from potential invasions.

Vijayabahu focused his energies on restoring the Buddhist presence to the capital by rennovating temples and monasteries that had been formerly neglected. After Vijabahu’s reign ended, a short period of political instability followed, ending when King Parakramabahu I rose to power. Under his guidance, Polonnaruwa reached its peak.

Perhaps the most impressive sculptures at Pollonnaruwa are the imposing images of the Buddha located at the Gal Vihare. These four pieces of sculpture were commissioned by Parakramabahu. The first is of a seated Buddha in deep meditiation, seated on a throne decorated with lions and thunderbolts. The second is inside of a cave and records in detail Parakramabahu’s initiatives to unite the Buddhist order. The next sculpture stands twenty three feet high and expresses the serenity of the Buddha. The final, and most imposing, statue is of a reclining Buddha, which measures 46 feet in length. He is in the last moment of his life on earth, on the verge of entering nirvana.

Sigirya was built by King Kasyapa sometime during the late 5th Century AD. Although there are several renditions of how Sigirya came to be, most versions agree that Kasyapa was in some way responsible for the death of his Father, King Dhatusena. Shortly after the death of his Father, Kasyapa set about building a palace on the summit of Sigirya.

When I asked Asala why anyone would want to build a palace so difficult to get to, he responded that “Kasyapa had a lot of enemies.”

I thought to myself what a curse, to be so powerful that you could have a palace build on top of a mountain but have so many enemies that you had to isolate yourself there. Well, maybe it wasn’t that bad.

There is no consensus as to the identity of the women depicted in the Sigiriya frescoes. The Sri Lankan art historian Ananda K. Coomeraswamy postulated that they may have been “asparas,” similar to angels, because the figures were cut off at their waists by clouds, conversely, the British colonial educationist E.B. Havell believed them to be royal ladies, Kasyapa’s hand-maidens and queens.

Personally, I like the theory espoused by the Sri Lankan historian Martin Wickeramasinghe, who believed that they were royal women playing water sports and that the clouds were actually sea waves. In any debate about the meaning of art, I like the idea that the truth somehow involves topless women playing sports.

Wild elephants still roam throughout Sri Lanka but with humans increasingly encroaching on their viable territory, their numbers have dwindled substantially.

Pinnawela is located West of Kandy on the Colombo highway and hosts the largest elephant orphanage in Sri Lanka, accounting for around fifty elephants at any given time.

Most of these elephants were orphans who lost their parents to poachers or as a result of simply being left behind by their herd. Many were badly wounded when found, and I even remember one female elephant who had lost her eyesight as a result of a poacher’s gunshot.

This elephant could not go to the river to bathe and play with the other elephants. For whatever reason, one particular male elephant had developed an affinity for her, and would bring her food several times/day and keep her company.

Did I come to this place or did this place come to me?

A hiccup in a path that was laid out from birth.

And why is it in the embrace of this setting of such beauty that I should dwell on something so far away.

It is because lighthearted, I would dance with the icons of this Earth and gaze into the light that emanated from within myself.

My face would be on the screen and become an object of admiration and desire.

My aura would drown you with its intensity, and in the glare of my greatness, you would fall in love with me.

Or maybe not.

I did well on my SATs and I made the Dean’s list, maybe I could be a doctor.

With my hands, I would place them on the bodies and minds of the sick. People would revere me, for the highest gift you could bestow upon your fellow man is life.

My will would determine other’s realities and in light of my reverence, you would fall in love with me.

Or maybe not.

I’ve always been good at arguing, maybe I could be a lawyer. In front of an audience, I could shape the past with my mind and bend the present with my tongue.

Fate would be a source of amusement for me as I would consume the courtrooms with my passion, and with the comprehension of my power, you would fall in love with me.

Or maybe not.

I’ve always dreamt of creating.

Maybe. . .maybe I could make something that would stand forever, emanating its beauty in rhythm to the eternal. Sending waves of truth throughout the heavens, filling minds and hearts with love, becoming an entity in and of itself.

And all the universe would blow its sails onwards because it would have been the one thing that I did for no other reason than to simply to have done it.

And maybe you would fall in love with me.

Or maybe not.

The following is an excerpt from an e-Mail my Father sent to me when I was in Seoul:

This was a house recommended by the Fullbright office, so I went there and the house looked comfortable so I decided to stay there for a while.

The house had a pond, winding staircase, and large bedrooms. Outside of the bedroom area was a large deck.

The surroundings were interesting because you were sometimes waken up by the noise of monkeys jumping around and making cackling noises, which is a bit unusual.

One day, while walking in the yard, I stepped on a monitor lizard. These creatures discharge urine that is supposed to be deadly to humans if it makes contact with your skin. Fortunately, I had my shoes on.

All these homes have very tall walls. This goes to show you that they have an inherent distrust towards people who don’t have money. They try to keep poor people out and rich people inside.

Then you have a variety of vendors who go around and sell things and want to provide services, but it just turns out that they steal things. They simply don’t trust many people, that’s why they always keep their doors locked.

Mala owned a very large furniture store and had inherited large sums of money, so she was able to build her dream house.

She grew up in an area called Colombo 7, where a handful of rich people live. She was one of them and surrounded by a large group of people who were politically influential and wealthy.

Her husband grew up with the foreign minister, they went to prep school together, and they used to play rugby together.

Less than 1% of the people live in Colombo 7, and they are all well connected. They belong to the same private clubs and all the kids go to the same private school. A large number of these people send their kids to the United States and to Great Britain.

I got into Sri Lanka late last night and was greeted by my Father at the airport. We promptly headed to a beachfront hotel on the outskirts of Colombo where he had booked me a room for the weekend.

It had been nearly a year since I had seen my Father last and while navigating our way through the chaotic Colombo streets, made more chaotic by virtue of the fact that it was the night before Buddha’s birthday, I told him about my life in Korea.

After about thirty or forty minutes, we arrived at the hotel and it was not long before I was fast asleep.

The next day, my Father arrived in the early afternoon, bringing a six-pack of Heineken which he had purchased at the American embassy, the only place where you could buy beer on Buddha’s birthday. We sipped our beers as I showed him the videos that I had recorded while in Bangkok.

We had lunch and then he went to go sit on the beach and read, while I returned to my room with the intention of writing about my experiences during the past 72 hours, but found that all I could do was sit by the window and enjoy ocean breeze.

Later, I went for a walk on the beach and was approached by a Sri Lankan man who wanted to sell me a handfull of seashells for the equivalent of about three or four dollars.

I was a bit amused by how stupid he thought I was, and informed him that although I felt his shells were very pretty, I had already amassed enough shells for one day.

I’m headed to the Iranian embassy tomorrow to see whether or not I’ll be able to visit Iran. If not, my Father might fund a trip for me to visit Nepal, which would be just as exciting.

For now, I’m content to just relax and soak in the peace and quiet of this country.