back home.

after landing in cyclonic conditions - something i never want a repeat of in a tiny propeller plane - and after a bumpy ride in a 4x4-taxi through flooded motorways and obstacle-ridden dirt tracks complete with fallen down trees, roots and debris, i am home.

i arrived at midnight to find my community huddled in one of our main huts, sharing beds, as the winds howled, rattling the bamboo and keet roof. exhausted, i threw myself down on a makeshift bed and passed out. after almost 24h in local buses, three-wheelers, jets and taxis, tiredness took over and i lapsed into sleep.

as the sun slowly penetrated the clouds and the soaking curtains, i opened my eyes and sighed; home.

smiles and hugs followed. anouk, dimitar, dorian, raj, allan... being surrounded by friends as they welcomed me back was heart-warming, i am so grateful for every single one.

i'm home.

our hut

cyclone nilam

as one half of the world huddles up for comfort and protection against the raging storm of hurricane sandy, the other half watches as cyclone neelam fast approaches the indian continent, sweeping through sri lanka on its way to tamil nadu and andhra pradesh.

both hitting at the same time, bearing gifts of floods, destructive winds and fear.

since my flight back home to chennai is crossing the bay of bengal at the exact same time as cyclone nilam, i wonder if my spicejet flight will make it.

my thoughts and love go out to all who are at the mercy of the hurricane and the cyclone this week, wherever in the world you may be.

for more information, i visit india today.

the meaning of life.

earlier today i wrote how confused i felt about my future.

posting on ^tent (an open-source twitter) "what is your purpose in life?", a user sent me a link to sketch in india ink, a vignette by hjalmar söderberg, swedish novelist, playwright, poet and journalist.

for any of you out there also suffering from quarter-life crises, or simply in an existential mood, voilà:

sketch in india ink

one april day many years ago, at a time when i still wondered about the meaning of life,i went into a little cigar store on a back street to buy a cigar. i selected a dark and square el zelo, put it in my cigar case, paid for it, and prepared to leave. but all of a sudden it occurred to me to show the young girl, who worked in the store and from whom i usually bought my cigars, a little sketch in india ink that i happened to have in my wallet. i had gotten it from a young artist and in my opinion it was very beautiful. “look,” i said and handed it to her. “what do you think of this?” she took it in her hands with a curious interest and looked at it for a long time very closely. she turned it around in all directions and her face held an expression of concentrated thought.

“well, what does it mean?” she asked at last with an eager glance. i was caught a bit off guard. “i doesn’t mean anything in particular,” i answered. “it is only a landscape. this is land and that is sky and that is a road…an ordinary road…”, “of course i see that,” she hissed in a fairly unfriendly tone, “but i want to know what it means.”

i stood there bewildered and at a loss. i had never thought that it ought to mean something. but this idea of hers could not be shaken. she had assumed that the picture must be some sort of “find the cat.” why else would i have shown it to her? at last she put it against the windowpane so it became transparent. presumably, someone had once shown her some sort of peculiar playing card that under normal light looks like a nine of diamonds or a jack of spades, but which when held against the light, represents something obscene. but her examination brought no results.

she returned the sketch and i prepared to leave. then the poor girl suddenly became very red and burst out with tears in her voice: “shame! it’s not very nice of you to make a fool of me like this. i know very well that i am a poor girl who hasn’t been able to afford any education, but that doesn’t mean you should make fun of me. can’t you tell me what your picture means?”

what should i answer? i would have given a great deal to be able to tell her what it meant, but i couldn’t, because it did not mean anything.

yes, it is now many years since then. now i smoke different cigars and buy them in a different store, and i no longer wonder about the meaning of life, but that is not because i think i have found it.

right now, this minute...

this is happening...

...and i'm thinking about what lies ahead. a little part of me hoped that arriving in a spanking new destination, on the opposite side of the world i grew up in, would somehow show me my path in life. or, if not show me outright, then insinuate and nudge me in the right direction. hinting with a wink.

one of my favourite quotes says "the only zen you find on the tops of mountains is the zen you bring there" because it describes the essence of finding your truth within. you can run anywhere in the world, but however fast you run, when you eventually tire and slow down, all your baggage is shipped to you, express, and you must finally unpack and face what's in there, wrapped in layers of tissue and old newspapers.

don't get me wrong, moving house to a different continent is packed with lessons: the confidence in yourself blossoms as does the pride in following your dreams, the challenges of adapting to a new culture, the inspiring individuals you meet along the way, these grow you as a person and gradually shed light on the hidden corners of yourself you hadn't realized were there. the same goes for a change in career; any shift in your normal life will bring sparkling new qualities to the surface, and rough edges you'll need to polish.

but i'm talking about my purpose. that soul-searching question we all ponder in the dark: "what am i meant to do in this world?". it's been torturing me of late, an itch i desperately want to scratch and can't reach.

the one thing i have observed, however, is that while i'm on a quest to answer this question, part of the solution is: learn. when we turn passionately to learning, more pieces of the puzzle are slotted into position, revealing our place in the world.

in sadhana i was studying several aspects of hindu and buddhist philosophy. in sri lanka i took part in a vipassana course, which left me reeling for over a week in the realizations i had. now i feel at a loss, nothing doing, as they say here.

i'm unsure where to start. and that's me, right now, this minute...

um poco de malandragem

my favourite artist of all time is cassia eller; her song malandragem has been a theme tune to my life since i first heard it and she is a great inspiration; she strove for female rights in Brazil for many years.

malandro is a brazilian portuguese term usually reserved to describe a lifestyle of idleness, fast living and petty crime. however, amongst the long list of definitions and interpretations, is the following: 

"leads a bohemian life of only fun and pleasure, is characterized by savoir fair and subtlelity. its execution demands aptitude and charisma"

it's not that i think of myself as a malandro, at all. i'm far too shy to fit the bill. it's simply a concept that fascinates me and makes me smile; in my mind the malandro in me is flamboyant and care-free, a serial entrepreneur who loves to laugh and effortlessly creates around her a life full of je ne sais quoi, passion and adventure.

so i guess it's my life ambition to embrace that specific definition of malandragem.

as i sit here, in mirissa - a beautiful, surfer beach on the southeast of sri lanka -, on the top floor of a rickety guesthouse inches away from the waves, hearing them crash all around me as i sip on an ice-cold ginger beer, we turn up the volume and sing along:

purifying the mind.

chatting to a friend last night, we spoke about meditations that purify the mind. vipassana is just one of these, there are many techniques that claim to aid this aim.

however, i have often found, talking about this matter, that we are often missing the introspection that goes before assuming lotus.

i'll use the metaphor i came up with last night: if we imagine a scientist who wishes to filter water from a stream for it to be pure enough to drink, she will first have to study and analyze what she is purifing the water of; what organisms and particles. this way she can begin eliminating these undesired elements that make the water impure. but first she knew what needed to be done, she didn't start by creating filters with the hope of purifying the water.

so in the same way, before purifying the mind we must have an idea of what the mind needs to be cleansed of.

the clearer our knowledge of ourselves is, the clearer our understanding of what needs to be purified, the better the focus with which we shall proceed.

let's all be scientist of our mind, then.

i was wrong.

so remember i told you all about how i thought the monsoon was an urban myth? and then how i'd caught a glimpse of it far, far away on the horizon? ok, not that far, but you get my point.

well.

it's here.

i am officially damp and freezing cold. yesterday i was toasting on a sunbed in my bikini. roasting, some would say, judging by the pinkish-red colour i'm sporting only 24 hours later.

today i am in a hoodie. no word of a lie; harem pants pulled down to the ankes and my husband's hoodie keeping me warm as the wind buffets me around, spritzing me with a mix of sea spray, mist and monsoon rain.

it's here and i'm happy.