Saying Goodbyes

untitled photo

This is a reaction to my dear friend Leyna's blog saying:

"It seems this is a season for goodbyes. I wonder who or what else I should bid farewell to. But since my goodbyes have always been unrefined, I will not even attempt to try."

Saying "bye", even if we use the prefix "good" is always the saddest thing to do. Bidding farewell to someone of great importance to our lives, brings not only pain, but doubts and fears for the future, and a nagging question would be-What lies ahead without her/him/them? Things will never be like what it was before, and whether we accept it or not, we will miss the person who has made us very happy,miserable or perhaps both. Somehow, i learned to say my own "goodbyes" and to euphemise the pain, i tried to classify them as either "temporary" or "permanent".

Arguably, there is no proper or improper, refined or unrefined way to say goodbye. It usually depends on the situation and the person/s whom we are saying goodbye to. For always, saying goodbye to someone you once loved, still love, once loved you, still loves you and whether or not he/she is doing so because he/she has made a choice or caught up in a situation where probably bidding farewell is the most practical, honourable or "best" thing to do "for now " is undoubtedly never easy.

Saying goodbye rips the heart bringing pains for being away physically, geographically, legally, emotionally, etc. And the feeling of loss is universal whether the person we say goodbye to- is a friend, family, lover, husband or wife. Even the loss of a much loved pet brings sadness.

Few years back, i dropped everything to say my goodbye to a beloved friend. We did theater productions together, sang together, and i cheered while she danced which she did best. We are each other's favourites and during rehearsals and actual performances we made it a point to find out how the other is going. Occasionally, we meet in the little park, would take a walk and talk about anything under the sun- which both bother and delight us. While queueing up for the commencement exercises, we had our picture taken together. She noted that outside the official photographer, probably it will only the candid shot that she had so i better give her a copy. I said "yes i will."

Surprisingly, we met again in our favourite park few days after. We hugged each other tightly, exchanged our parents' home addresses and i remember the cheerful tone of her voice saying " Write me, write me!". "Of course, I will" i replied. We parted ways wishing each other of dreams coming true, of happy love stories to tell each other when we get to see each other again.

I went back to my parent's home catching up with my siblings for the years i have been away, then got a job in the big city while she got hers too. My first job gave me lots of excitement in discovering new things, people, situations. Truly the "real world" has lots of lessons to offer. I became extremely busy, climbing up the corporate ladder faster beyond any expectations. But there were downsides. Instead of dining out and having fun with friends of my age i attended dinner and business meetings with people half of my age. Sadly, with my workload i have to temporarily stop singing with my church choir and bond with my closest friends.

I had the picture printed few days after our graduation but was unable to write the accompanying letter- it was intended for "snail mail" so i postponed sending it. Few days after, I got to write the letter, sealed the envelope and wrote her home address and lo, it's ready for mailing. When i rang her on Christmas eve, i promised to send that picture soon, so she better buy a frame for it. (I am a very traditional person, and at that time, i did not consider that e-mails can touch the same personal way as the traditional mails do). I was caught up again with work, unable to go to the post or request someone to do so for the printed pictures to reach her. I was hoping to just give it to her personally when we get the to meet again.

Not long after, news of accident spread at work- it turned out that my friend's mother has worked with the same company where i was doing my first job, and my immediate superior, a vice president knew her closely. I shivered in disbelief to find out that the eldest daughter who perished in the accident is my dear friend, along with her two other friends- while driving back home from a reunion.

She did not have the chance to see that photo in print. Feeling very bad, i asked for a leave which my boss readily granted. I opted to go and see my friend's remains alone so immediately rode the bus for the "reunion". I wanted to go there alone and knowing how popular and much loved she is, i silently wished that there would be fewer people upon my arrival at the viewing chapel. Silently looking at the picture placed on top of her coffin and her face, she is still as lovely as the time we last hugged each other. I was trembling but i have to bid goodbye to her, cried as silently as i can, apologised for not sending the picture that she had asked for, cried some more as it finally sank in to me that i will never see her again. As tears were still falling, it seemed to me that she smiled, the memories of bidding our then temporary goodbyes at the park coming back. Many people came soon so i slowly wiped my tears away and sat quietly in the corner. I hardly slept that night.

I tried to go as early as i can for the funeral rites, found my way to talk to her mom and finally, gave her the printed photo. She profusedly thanked and hugged me tight. I was relieved. Her Mom was very accepting enough when she said to those who joined them at the rites that her little girl is happy because many people came, and despite the cause of her death she was thankful of the years, that this girl was entrusted to her by the Maker. The host was looking at me while asking if there were other friends who would like to say something about her- i lost for words, so i refused to give a eulogy. Joining my thespian circle of friends after the rites, i immediately realised the void she left. Grieving from her "sudden" passing away, and still guilty for being slack in fulfilling a promise, i took the bus rides everytime "i feel like it", to visit her grave bringing white roses that i knew she likes so much. It took some time until i felt really a lot better.

Her departure in this world has ferociously taught me not to procrastinate, not to say a promise i can hardly keep, and to say goodbye no matter how or what. I try doing it through a simple note, a message on one's mobile phone , an e-mail or the traditional way of giving a kiss and a tight hug given the chance. Since then, i made it a point to say my goodbyes, no matter how awkward it would be, with the thought that being all transients in this world, i might not be able to see her/him/them or he/she/ they might not see me alive again. I have read sometime ago that one way of being kind to others is treating people as if it is your last day on earth. I still do not practice this all the time though, only " when i feel like it" but i make it a point to say my goodbyes, regardless.

Saying goodbye surely brings pain and loss- the degree of which depends on how such person have touched our lives. It is a very difficult thing to say and do but doing so trancends to peace of mind(no regrets or few regrets maybe) and it is like unloading a heavy luggage to make our travel easier. I have always struggled to say my own goodbyes, whether it may be the " temporary" or "permanent" ones. Yet i discovered that doing so, has always been-a liberating experience.

Say your goodbyes Leyna- no matter how hard or awkward or improper it would seem to be. Who knows- it would be a lovely surprise to see her/him/them again- if not on earth, maybe in heaven.

As for me Leyna, i did not say goodbye to you yet- because i will find my way to see you again, soon.

Memories

working with a potter to create a vase

the beach

a road less travelled

the tree house

picked cherries

swimming with the birds

winter break

enchanting wildflowers

the sky and the coconuts

bits and pieces of memories, making me smile

"Scattered pictures, Of the smiles we left behind Smiles we gave to one another For the way we were Can it be that it was all so simple then?"

- sung by Barbara Streisand, " The Way We Were" movie directed by Sydney Pollack, 1973

Last night, I was reading the day's paper from the first to the last page as a part of my bedtime regimen in the city when this song was played. Until few years ago, i thought that the song's title was "Memories". Regardless of the title, the lines are simple yet beautiful and suddenly i saw tears fell- right on the page where i was. I am aware that Sydney Pollack, director of the film where the soundtrack has been sung just passed away on the 26th, yet the reason behind the little tears is probably a mixture of sorts- of the way i was.

It has been around ten months since i went through an emotional turmoil, rooted out of deep concern-and i had a good cry in the shoulder of a woman i just met hours earlier.( The last time i had such almost similar situation was four years ago and i loved my Mummy Henny more after that camping trip, where conversations in the bonfire led to the traumatic verbal abuse i experienced in a tram stop, in a place where talking on top of your voice is already offending. I refused to talk about such incident and preferred hanging around in the casino than spark a pending "war among the batches" in a very small community where everybody knows everybody. I opted to be quiet, shunned parties and nurtured the pains alone rather than be involved in a " petty scandal" with such person who frequently invited me to her bible studies which i always refused, yet i had looked up as an elder sister and "mama' when we were close. It pained me to discover that she hated me because i cared enough to warn her upon seeing "danger signs". Mummy Henny who quietly watched me dealing with it wanted me to let it out-to cry out the pains i have been keeping deep inside for a year. I was even surprised hearing myself cry that much but yes, releasing the pains mas made me feel a lot better and moving on was a lot easier. I slowly went back to my usual self after, smiled more often, talked candidly as i did, and sang at parties again. )

Now back to the more recent incident ten months ago. Confusion, anger and sorrow filled me i needed to breath some sort of fresh air , so i went out for a walk. It was during this time that i met this admirable woman. I was yearning for a neutral listener and she cared so much to listen, even though at that time, she had her own woes too, of greater importance from mine. I felt the relief of it all when i cried to her in reckless abandon and never cared about what the other people in front of us would say. Crying in public has been a taboo for me- i prefer crying in my room or while looking at the vast ocean, wishing to give my pains to the waves hoping that they be buried in the depths of the sea. Just like what happened to me and mummy hen, this bit of memory has then become unforgettable that we bonded like family- she now calls me "swettie" and i call her "auntie". I shed my final tears over such brouhaha when the plane took off from that place which i refuse to go back to-until i am totally healed and ready to be hurt again.

I am thankful for these memories for significant reasons and lessons. First, I had a new aunt whose words serving like balm i still vividly remember "Do not be soured by the experience," when i wanted to be bitter and withdrawn. Second, I got the chance to know a dear friend (who stood by me through it all) a lot better, and most importantly, reminded me to give myself the love and care that i deserve which i now religiously do (for in my efforts to make my loved ones happy, sometimes i deny myself in the process). Third, I reconnected and created a stronger bond with two dear friends who has been with me through that incident and beyond. Fourth, i had the privilege of meeting a new friend who willingly listened, never judged quickly and even though we briefly said our hi's and hellos prior to that, i felt very comfortable telling anything as if we had known each other for years. Fifth, i learned to get hold of my emotions over issues as i have always dealt everything in the past based on "what i feel". Three old friends/confidants enjoyed analysing the why's behind my "troubles", they try their best to convince me with various arguments until i start listening. They remind me that i readily give my opinions about political, economic and social concerns, trivial or big matters yet i "shut down" when it involves the people i dearly love. Now i can keep things to myself and do the "analysis" and 'judgment" on my own. My old friends in turn are missing the "entertainment" i had always given them in such situations but they are happy for me. Finally, I have realised that i can be severely hurt by anybody that i love/d so much but over time, to forgive and to forget is part of the necessary process in moving on and becoming happy again.

Most of the time, memories bring mixed emotions which could be aptly described as "sappy". Surprisingly, i can now separate the sad from the happy ones. I chose to remember the happy ones, and quickly after hearing the last few lines of the song , i found myself smiling again.

I miss the people who made me cry, those who listened and comforted me. Collectively, their memories make me happy. I cannot assert myself though, if these (and other memories i cannot yet share) and the people that i met along the way has made me a worse or a better person. However, i am thankful because they have helped me to become a totally different person- from the way i was.

Desired Things

it is a beautiful world

love is... perennial as the grass

The poem "Desiderata" has been a guiding light and an inspiration for me over the years. It was a pleasant surprise to see the poem posted in the room of a dear friend(a Desiderata postcard is in my room too) in our reunion trip to her parents' home in late March, catching up after 5 long years of not seeing nor regularly communicating with each other. I was so focused about the eloquence of the author and how the lines has been beautifully put together that i never bothered to find out where the title came from and more things about the author. Searching the web, I find out a lot of things about Max Ehrmann , a poet and lawyer who lived in Indiana, USA from 1872 to 1945, Most notable find for me is the reportedly inspiration behind this poem, the entry in his diary saying :

" I should like, if I could, to leave a humble gift -- a bit of chaste prose that had caught up some noble moods."

Desiderata, is a Latin for "desired things", (plural of desideratum,) an inspirational prose poem about attaining happiness in life.(http://en.wikipedia.org/). Arguably, every human being on earth desires to be happy.

DESIDERATA

Go placidly amid the noise and the haste,

and remember what peace there may be in silence.

As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons.

Speak your truth quietly and clearly

and listen to others,even to the dull and ignorant;
they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons;they are vexatious to the spirit.

If you compare yourself with others,you may become vain or bitter,
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.

Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.

Keep interested in your own career however humble;

it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.

Exercise caution in your business affairs,for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind youto what virtue there is;many persons strive for high ideals,and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Be yourself.

Especially do not feign affection.

Neither be cynical about love,
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment,it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years,gracefully surrendering the things of youth.

Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.

But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.

Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.

Beyond a wholesome discipline,be gentle with yourself.

You are a child of the universe no less than the trees and the stars;

you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore, be at peace with God,whatever you conceive Him to be.

And whatever your labors and aspirations,in the noisy confusion of life,

keep peace in your soul.

With all its sham,drudgery, and broken dreams,

it is still a beautiful world.

Be cheerful.

Strive to be happy.

by Max Ehrmann©1927 by Max Ehrmann, all rights reserved. © renewed 1954 by Bertha Ehrmann.Reprinted by permission Robert L. Bell.(http://www.desiderata.com/)

In many crossroads of my life, this poem never fails to inspire me. Thank you Max, for this gift.

Only Time

the uni clock

Over the weekend, I rediscovered and enjoyed playing Enya's song repeatedly- it both thrills me to remember fond memories of someone i loved so much and to look forward having memories with someone i will love, probably forever. I have chosen to look at love and life with my pink coloured glasses, despite the pains of going through losses and the difficulty of healing process-i am still willing to take the risk/s, believing that there is a very thin line separating misery from bliss.

I am still learning how to link or upload the video for such song. Meantime, I am content singing the lyrics as follows:

Only Time
Who can say where the road goes, Where the day flows, only timeAnd who can say if your love growsAs your heart chose, only time
(Chanting)
Who can say why your heart sighsAs your love flies, only timeAnd who can say why your heart criesWhen your love lies, only time
(Chanting)
Who can say when the roads meetThat love might be in your heartAnd who can say when the day sleepsIf the night keeps all your heart
Night keeps all your heart
(Chanting)
Who can say if your love growsAs your heart chose- Only timeAnd who can say where the road goesWhere the day flows, only time
Who knows? Only timeWho knows? Only time

Music: Eithne Ní Bhraonáin - Lyrics: Roma Ryan

I can't help but smile as I sing along with Enya. Will my quest for such one great love end? When? Who knows? Perhaps time does.

"Loved you enough"

flowers for Mom

I first read this poetry few days before Valentine and I wanted to give tribute on mother's day with such poem in mind. Wanting to find out who the author is, I surfed the web when I had the chance, he/she opted to be Anonymous, (http://www.reading-ease.com/articles/poem-for-mothers-day.html.) As I painfully watch the anguish in every mother's eyes in Sichuan (adhering to the China's one-child policy) deeply mourning for the loss of their only offspring who perished in the intensity 7.9 earthquake as they attend classes in the substandardly built school buildings on May 12, few days after the Myanmar catastrophe, I thought about this poem again. This is a tribute to all mothers whom this poem is dedicated, and even though ringing my mom on mother's day has made her happy, I am still writing this primarily for her.

Poem for Mother's Day (Anonymous)
I loved you enough to insist you buy a bike with your own money that we could afford and you couldn't;
I loved you enough to be silent and let you discover your handpicked friend was a creep;

I loved you enough to stand over you for two hours while you cleaned your bedroom, a job that would have taken me fifteen minutes;
I loved you enough to say, "Yes, you may go to Disney World on Mother's Day";
I loved you enough to let you see anger, disappointment, mistrust and tears in my eyes;
I loved you enough not to make excuses for your lack of respect or you bad manners;
I loved you enough to admit that I was wrong and ask your forgiveness;

I loved you enough to ignore "what every other mother" did or said;
I loved you enough to let you stumble, fall, hurt and fail;

I loved you enough to let you assume the responsibility for your own actions, at 6, 10, and 16;

I loved you enough to figure you would lie about the party being chaperoned but forgave you for it after discovering I was right;

I loved you enough to shove you off my lap, let go of your hand, be mute to your pleas and insensitive to your demands...so that you had to stand alone;

I loved you enough to accept you for what you are, not what I wanted you to be;
But most of all, I loved you enough to say "no" when you hated me for it.
THAT WAS THE HARDEST PART OF ALL.

Simple yet moving, the last couple of lines struck me the most. Growing up, dad was my favourite and I disliked mom for being strict. She has been consistent in saying 'no" despite my endless efforts to persuade her to say "yes". My simplistic definition of love was - " if you love me, you will give in to my requests to make me happy." I wanted everything I wished for- to be fulfilled as soon as possible. My father would try all his best and all his might to lovingly oblige in fulfilling anything that we, his children would wish for. While my mother the disciplinarian taught obedience, father brought us up "democratically" and encouraged us to express what we think and stand for what we believed in. Teaching us to be confident, Dad has been supportive, going with us along the way- whichever way we want to take. Coming from varied/opposite upbringing, discussions between them on the "right" way to parenting has been a regular scenario. Just like any other parents, they tried to provide material, emotional and spiritual nourishment until we became "responsible adults". Both taught us that anything material could be enjoyed while it lasts, but since we are transients of this world, "we cannot take anything of material value with us to our graves." While my father did community service, my mother touched other people's lives in a more personal way, demonstrating the idea of "sharing what we have no matter how little" instead of "sharing your extras". Sometimes this brings me the surprise of seeing the new dress that i did not care to try upon, being worn by another child that my mom made happier, or arriving home from school to find out that my "sweets" were already "shared" with other kids i hardly knew that she willingly took from the streets so they can teach them the alphabet, counting or just simply read them stories. At the start it was upsetting but after some time i did not mind at all.

When I left home for college, although excited about my new found "independence", i began to realise how my mom loved me enough to say no. Growing up in a sheltered environment is like a fish living in an aquarium then suddenly brought into the ocean. Even though I resent my mom for being strict, I love it when she tucks me to bed at night and hugs me to sleep everytime i become ill and wakes me up to drink my hot milk if i forgot to do so. It was when i started living in my own apartment, doing the housekeeping, shopping and cooking for myself while studying overseas that i completely understood why my mom loved me enough to say '"no".

I tried to bear my pains brought by failed relationship/s gracefully. The first time I was affected by a failed friendship, my mom comforted me saying " It will be alright- you are loved so much, we- your family are always here for you and always remember that there's Someone up there who cares for you. " During the succeeding emotional crises that I have went through, those words seemed like a sweet music replaying to remind me-be still, springing hope from within.

I have a huge learning curve in losing material things- wallets, bags, mobile phones, jewelries, etc. in various and bizarre conditions but I already learned a coping mechanism for such losses. Although I have disagreed to her beliefs and ideas many times over, Mom has tried her best to teach me and my siblings not to be attached to "treasures on earth" too much.

Some friends tell me that I can only completely understand my mother and all mothers out there once i become a mom myself. I am both thrilled and scared by the possibility of being one. Would it be both challenging and fulfilling? Will I be the ever doting mom as I am always been the pampering aunt? In this modern world where adoptive, surrogate and single mothers are happy regardless- one does not necessarily go through the biological process of being a mom- if she can love people like my mom did, and still do.

Although I appreciate having the second sunday of May as the Mother's day celebration throughout the world, I think everyday is worth a celebration for them. To my biological mom, those who had been and always be like a mother to me in many ways, my mummy Henny and to all who enjoy the gift, privilege and responsibility of being a mother, three cheers for you-Happy Mother's Day!!!

Sunrise

waiting for the sunrise, the giver of life on earth, photo taken in May 2007

I am not really a "morning person". Certainly a "sleepyhead", its always a struggle to wake up very early in the morning(I always tell myself- "what's the point?")-I can do anything that I want or required of me to do anytime of the day anyway and there are 24 hours everyday so I rather wake up anytime I feel like it.

Growing up in a tropical country where the sun rises before 6 o clock, my mom tediously wakes me up early mornings to be in school on time, but going to college and living in a dormitory, staying in an apartment and later as a homestay, I carefully chose my classes to be late mornings, afternoons or evenings. Being employed, I was always noticed not only because of my excellent performance and human relations, but for my tardiness as well and I am very comfortable in my own skin-I cannot have everything anyway- or probably I am unwilling to be a conformist. It helped me a lot being assigned to special projects, until I left my first job out of impulse. My second job was a lot tolerant to my being late riser and I enjoyed the relaxed environment immensely despite the injustices that I habitually observed from the management. This world is not perfect and so I am anyway, so I had no other choice but to live with it.

Its always a very special time for me then to try waking up in the mornings when I get the chance to visit other places. Since I became a hobbyist photographer few years back, I started taking sunrises and sunsets as favourite subjects. At times I compare the photos and reminisce the memories that comes with the pictures. I have been a sunset person simply becasue I cannot wake up early to watch the sunrise, because I love the changing colours of the clouds and the skies in minutes and significantly, due to the serenity and the hope that it brings -" have a good rest, tomorrow is another day" .

Looking at my sunrise pictures however has brought me few realisations. First, the colours of the sky and the clouds is exhilarating, having another facet of its own beauty as compared to my favourite sunsets. Second, it brings that feeling of "good cheer". Third, it reminds me of my Biology subject about the sun as a giver of life- as captured in the photo attached(this was taken early in the morning so the sun's UV rays are arguably, not yet harmful). The sun is necessary for the green plants to undergo the process called "photosynthesis" which is very helpful to human food production, thus, aside from the heat that it brings to this planet, it is a giver of life to all forms of existence.

Finally, the sunrise suggests that -Today is a new day, another chance to do things better, probably to love more,hate less, to correct past mistakes, be more tolerant and forgiving. Most importantly, it is a new day to take risks, to find fulfillment in all aspects or simply to be thankful for the gift of enjoying life the fullest i can- even just for today.

Nice lesson from the sunrise, isn't it? I wish I am a fast learner though.

The Myanmar Cyclone

US envoy says toll from Myanmar cyclone might reach 100,000
by Associated Press

Thu May 8, 1:04 AM ET

YANGON, Myanmar - Hungry people swarmed the few open shops and fistfights broke out over food and water in Myanmar's swamped Irrawaddy delta Wednesday as a top U.S. diplomat warned that the death toll from a devastating cyclone could top 100,000.
The minutes of a U.N. aid meeting obtained by The Associated Press, meanwhile, revealed the military junta's visa restrictions were hampering international relief efforts.
Only a handful of U.N. aid workers had been let into the impoverished Southeast Asian country, which the government has kept isolated for five decades to maintain its iron-fisted control. The U.S. and other countries rushed supplies to the region, but most of it was being held outside Myanmar while awaiting the junta's permission to deliver it.
Entire villages in the Irrawaddy delta were still submerged from Saturday's storm, and bloated corpses could be seen stuck in the mangroves. Some survivors stripped clothes off the dead. People wailed as they described the horror of the torrent swept ashore by the cyclone.
"I don't know what happened to my wife and young children," said Phan Maung, 55, who held onto a coconut tree until the water level dropped. By then his family was gone.

UN: Myanmar blocks UN emergency airlift for cyclone victims

by Associated Press

44 minutes ago
YANGON, Myanmar - Myanmar's isolationist regime blocked United Nations efforts Thursday to airlift food aid to cyclone survivors, U.N. officials said, as the hungry fought for what little food was available and drank coconut milk for lack of clean water.
Paul Risley, a spokesman of the U.N's World Food Program in Bangkok, said three flights were waiting to take off from Dubai, Dhaka and Thailand with 50 tons of high-energy biscuits. A fourth shipment aboard a scheduled Thai Airways cargo flight was likely to bring some biscuits later Thursday.

The top U.S. diplomat in the country, Shari Villarosa, has said the number of dead could eventually exceed 100,000 because of the scarcity of safe food and water. Myanmar's state media said Cyclone Nargis has killed at least 22,980 people and left 42,119 missing.

Although most Yangon residents were preoccupied in trying to restore their lives in wake of the storm, activists using the cover of an almost total power outage have scribbled fresh graffiti on the city's overpasses.The graffiti included "X" marks - a symbol for voting "no" to a military-backed constitution which is up for a referendum Saturday. Voting has been postponed until May 24 in Yangon city, some outlying areas and parts of the delta because of the storm's destruction.

A spokesman for the U.N. Children's Fund said its staff in Myanmar reported seeing many people huddled in roughly built shelters and children who had lost their parents.
"There's widespread devastation. Buildings and health centers are flattened and bloated dead animals are floating around, which is an alarm for spreading disease. These are massive and horrific scenes," Patrick McCormick said at UNICEF offices in New York.
A few shops reopened in the Irrawaddy delta, but they were quickly overwhelmed by desperate people, said Risley, quoting his agency's workers in the area.
"Fistfights are breaking out," he said.

Hearing the current state of Myanmar devastation and looking at the photos captured by photographers attached in news updates by the Associated Press http://www.ap.org other websites, radio and TV included, I cannot help being emotional. I have seen such calamities in the past, but what makes this Myanmar cyclone aftermath more devastating is its geographical and political isolation affecting any outpouring of help from the outside world.

As a heavily pampered, too much loved and well taken cared of daughter, news about the the outrageously appaling incest case of Josef Fritzl, the 73 year old Austrian man who imprisoned his daughter and continually raped her for 24 years, http://uk.news.yahoo.com/skynews/, has disturbed me and a lot of people -various opinion pages in the papers wrote about it. Such monsterous act was supposed to be the topic of my blog today, but the latest news about the military junta blocking the UN to airlift the cyclone victims has made me shift my attention to such horrendous act of callousness.

While Fritzl's own flesh and blood Elizabeth was imprisoned and repeatedly abused in the windowless cellar for more than two decades in their own apartment, stripping off her own liberty and dignity, the Burmese were held captives by their own army in their Burma. While Fritzl was supposed to be a protector of her own daughter, the military should be a protector of their own people too. Instead, the junta excellently did their best in stripping their own people not only their liberty and dignity but their civil and human rights as well-they were continually repressed for the past 46 years.

Few months back, Myanmar caught international attention because the supposedly long suffering monks led pro-democracy movements. Perhaps the repression was too much even the peace loving monks have to say, enough! Those attempts however, were crushed resulting to many deaths,clearly a man- made tragedy inflicted by the military junta to their own people. Protestations from the concerned organisations, nation states and the rest of the outside world fell on "deaf ears". Now that a force majeure struck Myanmar few days back, it was reported that no visible efforts were done by the military regime to help those Nargis cyclone victims. I was hoping that this time the junta would be kind enough in saving the lives of their own people but refusing concerned organisations, even UN at that, to airlift those hapless victims is really outrageous.

It takes tremendous efforts and great concern for lots of people to selflessly reach out in helping the cyclone victims, the soonest time possible. Instead of being thankful and the very least that they could do is to cooperate in saving lives and make the very sad condition of the Burmese more bearable in any possible way, the military junta is as heartless as it has been around 5 decades ago, and the calamity has added up to Burma's already sorry state . How long should they suffer? When will all these end? Life for the Burmese has been really stormy.

My heart goes to the victims, I wish that in my own small way I can do something. For the meantime, I can only offer them my prayers, and I fervently wish that somehow, their pain and sufferings would be alleviated, if not end soon and they can rebuild their lives again.

And I hope that no such storm would come again, but sunny days and brighter tomorrows.

orange tulip

This photo was taken by a friend in the Tulip Festival, Spring 2004

I am taking this name, Orange Tulip because it reminds me of my very first "baby", an orange tulip I got from a flower shop one spring morning. Since I am still at odds between expressing my thoughts and feelings in this medium and keeping my privacy( I am a highly opinionated person with radical thoughts putting me to heaps of trouble at times) I am taking the pseudonym Orange Tulip for now.

Being away from home and loved ones, the cold, seemingly sunless winter finally took its toll - my days became dreary. The orange tulip has been a source of joy somehow in the early days of spring since I got it from the flower shop close to my old apartment, just a short walk from the uni. It has given me some excitement to wake up each new day to find out if another leaf or bloom has been added. In all my capacity, I took so much care of my first orange tulip. However, arriving from uni one afternoon, I noticed that its not as lovely as it has been. Although I tried my best to revive it, in a few days the once beautiful orange tulip wilted. I was sad about such loss but quietly convinced myself that I can do better next time. I moved on to the fun that summer brings-joining barbecue parties, walking in the park, taking long drives and camping with mummy hen and friends and the unforgettable feat of reaching a mountain peak for the first time.

The next spring I visited a tulip farm with friends. Going there for the first time was a great and wonderful experience! I loved the flowers of various colours, most of which are tulips. Spring is my favourite season because of the colourful hues coming with it, as well as the cool spring mornings and the brighter days and weather which as not as freezing as the winter mornings few weeks before.

I had various options but in the end, I got a couple of carefully chosen orange tulips to take with me back to the city. Although arguably, I have so much love to give, I admit that I am not really a good plant carer, botanist nor gifted with a green thumb. I considered doing an experiment- one would be given as a present to my "mummy hen" whom I have always looked up to be an excellent carer, in so many ways- (from people to pets and plants). On top of that, orange is her favourite colour and she was elated when I handed the tulip to her. I was hoping that even if I fail to "take good care" of my own orange tulip, I am sure the expert carer mummy hen can make it, as she lovingly placed her own orange tulip it in the window to catch the sunlight.

Despite all my efforts to take care of my own, its day came to an end. Compared with the first loss, this time I am more prepared. Now I rest in the thought that from day 1 it never failed to put a happy smile to my face everytime I wake up in my own apartment close to the beach and see its beauty. Besides, I can always visit mummy hen in her apartment close to the uni and say hello to her own orange tulip. Yes, mumhen's orange lasted for a couple of weeks longer than mine and I thought I am just a poor carer. But when spring ended, I was told that her own orange tulips died too.

The couple of orange tulips I had in two succeeding springs have taught me few lessons. First, it reminded me that as a plant,( a living thing just like humans), it has its own "time frame on earth". Botanists classify plants as annual, biennial and perennial as I remembered in my Biology class so probably it belongs to the classification where it can last for less than a year- maybe not even an "annual" at that! Second, tulips only grow in spring and not throughout the year and just like beauty, we have to take time enjoying and appreciating it while it lasts. Third, even if I cannot see them anymore, when I remember how they have given me joy, I still smile for the happy memories their "company" brought me. Fourth, tulips come in different colours- and not limited to orange- some are white, brown, pink, yellow, purple, red, blue and in excitingly mixed colours, probably I even missed the others. Most importantly, it has given me the chance to reflect that as humans, we also have our own "appointed time" on earth. Just like the spring season, and the tulips that wilt after wonderfully showing up in spring, life on earth is temporary- and as permanent as the wilting of the tulips when the spring season ends, people leave this earth too, when their "appointed time" ends. It is not a cliche then to say that we have to live our life the to the fullest, regardless of how we define the word "fullest".

And just like the tulips in spring that cheered me up and probably my friends and all those who trooped to the tulip farms during spring, I wish that somehow, in small ways, I can cheer people that I will be given the chance to meet each day, and vice versa. If I can appreciate a tulip in any colour, including the the mixed coloured ones, probably I can appreciate (and most importantly accept and tolerate) lots of people too- in their various colours, forms, characters and virtues. But that's another blog subject in the near future.

For now, I am happy to remember the orange tulips I had, and suddenly inspired, finally, summoned the courage to start blogging upon remembering the encouragements of a dear friend that I look up to so much for her beauty(inside and out), wit and capacity to love. I really miss her now as she has been a "tulip" in my life in many ways. This is my first attempt to blog after some prodding from her a couple of months ago.

Thanks very much my dear orange tulip and to the people who has been, in certain seasons- became a tulip in my life. Every smile, hug, kiss, pat on the back or simply saying "hello", "take care" and "God bless" have cheered me up in many ways, especially during those times when the sun does not seem to shine in my own world.