The featured image is “Realm” by Bilal Hakan Karakaya, which was displayed at the Dubai International Financial Centre Gate Avenue in Dubai. More on the sculpture.
A lot has been happening, and like others, I have much to say. For the first time in a long time, I’m struggling to find words, meaningful words to say what has to be spoken or written, and there is a sense of urgency that keeps coming at me in full force that doesn’t seem to help. Then there is also the “conflict” of finding the right words to say that would not be cancelled and would not only be surface-level. The following few paragraphs will not be stats, deaths and news – there are plenty of outlets for that information, and this just isn’t it. But instead, I am writing because I am struggling, and this is what I do when I struggle. I might throw in my usual mandatory disclaimers and preface every now and then because, as we all know, I’m deeply troubled by the burden of my privilege. With that in mind, I want to acknowledge that my struggle is not even, in the grand scheme of things, anything significant compared to the massacre that’s taking place.
I didn’t come from a family of activism. Even the educational institutions I was in, or the people I associated were among what you would call “safe or neutral”. We wouldn’t question one’s political or religious beliefs because they were not considered PC topics of conversation. In general, uncomfortable discussions were best avoided. And I understand where this comes from. For the longest time, I unknowingly picked up on these little topics or themes that can be used for public or private discourse, ones that were mutually agreed upon or neither far left nor right.
To date, I tell people that I excel in small talk because I do.
University and my humanities department helped stir some of these thoughts. Still, the university as a whole was a conservative establishment.
I used to think that my mind was free, open and ready to receive all until I realised that it was also heavily clouded by judgement, the opinion of others and the inability to discuss and digest the uncomfortable.
Looking back on my 30s, having lived in this blissful ignorance is remarkable.
When I moved to India in 2010, just after the war, this was a great conversation started for my Indian classmates, along with Ramayana.
To their dismay, I had nothing substantial to say about either of the topics.
My closest associations to war included my parents being married on Black July (23 July 1983), having a bomb drill in primary school because our school was in a ‘High-Security Zone’, having a clear understanding of curfews and preparing for what would be known during COVID as ‘shelter-in-place’ from a very young age, and having one or maybe two bombs go off closer to school. Outside of this, it was business as usual. We went to school. We celebrated our birthdays. We had our weddings. The news every evening reported at least 5 deaths, but after a while, it was something we got used to hearing.
My school did have a Tamil medium class for every grade, but speaking to them to understand how they felt during those times didn’t occur. For this, I am filled with shame, regret and disappointment.
During the last few years in school and during the time I began to find myself tuning into the privilege of being half Sinhala-Buddhist, I understood the power of language and the power of ethnicity outside of money and class, the latter of which can be worked towards or even bought (il)legally. Unsurprisingly, none of these questions were directed towards us by school or at home – this was a time before Google and social media, so there weren’t many outlets to proactively seek information. During my time, the history syllabus for 2006 stopped at Independence in 1948. What happened after were things I learned as an adult.
And, of course, on the Ramayana, I only knew of Rama, Sita, Ravana and Hanuman.
Growing up, sheltered as I had – despite what went on at home, we are speaking of the world at large – needless to say, being an adult and reading about all I did came as a shock. Since then, while this piece of privilege has found a permanent spot in my awareness, I’ve never been able to find my voice to speak on the issues that were closest to me, geographically, be it the civil war in Sri Lanka, the discrimination of minorities, the economic crisis of 2022 and now, the ethnic cleansing of the Palestinians.
I think many times I stay away from commenting on these issues publicly because I don’t know enough. I never considered myself eloquent, and finding the right words to speak in a crowd puts my anxiety on overdrive. I’ve always understood the dangers of misinformation and ill-informed opinions that I warn my Mother especially on social media. I have never wanted to be one of them, merely because I didn’t know enough.
Then, with this silence comes the following question – what can we do that would mean something or hold value? No, I don’t have the social reach to inform and educate. So, does my opinion or stance hold ground or weight, or do I become just another voice trying to compete for social media airtime? Historically, I haven’t been to protests or organised gatherings because for as long as I lived with my Mother, she wasn’t keen on me participating in these spaces. Now, I no longer live with my Mother or in a democracy. Yes, there are questions on ‘democracy’, but that conversation is not for today.
Another piece that comes with silence is neutrality or consent, which is not what we are trying to do. And don’t even get me started on asking to shut down the noise or news because that’s the sort of ignorance that gets misused in the first place, and that’s not a decision I would ever want to live with.
How do we know what is enough?
How do we know what can be done in a way that’s meaningful or in a way that makes sense and creates impact?
How do we consciously move away from reacting with aggression and hate to reflecting to create a space of compassion for ourselves first and then to the immediate community around us?
I don’t know about you, my friend. However, while I am still navigating through my everyday day – the few work gigs I have going, submitting quotes for new work, planning holidays, speaking to friends, and watching an episode of something on Netflix, I’m also trying to tune into something that is helping me quieten my mind. Maybe there is something to be said here about being selfish, but I have learnt that to live this life of service that I want to lead and to allow my time and resources to be at the disposal of others, unless and until I can find peace within myself, until and unless I am willing to do the work that would enable me to lead this life of service from a place of compassion and kindness, it would be a life wasted.
I leave you there. I don’t have takeout 🥡 for this post, but instead, I wish for you to tune into the kindness within you.
#ThinkSunny🌻
Seniinthebox 