In the meantime life has moved on. Much of it overtaken by an overwhelming urge to find a job. It’s not just the fact that I have so many financial commitments. There’s just a really difficult numbing feeling of guilt when I think that after the three painful years at NUS, I am unemployed. The effort it required was substantial and naturally I expected the reward to be equally substantial. Lesson Number One: Life doesn’t function on a proportional, positive correlation, all the time.

I am fast realizing that the regimented activity of University masked a certain reality of life; that we have to choose how we are going to live each moment. While in school and still a child I had guidelines to follow set by teachers and parents, while in University I had guidelines set by tutors and lecturers and an oh-so-loud conscience, while on holiday guidelines were set by time, or rather the lack of it. At each passage of life so far, I knew exactly what lay at the end: A graduation, resumption of school or employment. But now, for the first time, all such order has dissapeared. Each moment is a product of choice – my choice. Lesson Two: The value of freedom is always relative and the merits of a higher degree of freedom are debatable at best.

The last few days have been spent wrestling with a choice that is sure to shape the direction of my life at least for the next few years: to go or not to go. I’ve been overcome by this decision which seemingly dwarfs most other problems in my life. I know how much of an opportunity working in Singapore represents. I know only too well how many youngsters like myself daydream about coming to a country such as this and making their fortune. But I am not so sure. I have this overpowering feeling that I’d be far better off in Sri Lanka, where people accept me more readily. It’s hard to put a feeling into words, even if that feeling is so overpowering to dominate your existence. I am just hoping time will present me with more information which would make my decision easier. Third lesson: Decisions involving your deepest feelings are always the hardest to make: logic and feeling merge into one making it almost impossible to discern them.

But that’s a separate topic altogether. This post is a tribute to a man, who single handedly carried the Sri Lankan team on his shoulders.

The first thing that comes to mind when one talks about Murali is his extraordinary abilities and how he used that to great effect to own many bowling records for himself. Others may also talk of a comparison between Warne and Murali and how one is greater than the other. I have my personal opinions on that. But I believe many who are more qualified than me have already opined on the subject. I shall not delve into such technicality.

Shakespere once said “some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them”. Murali was not one born into royalty or an extraordinarily privileged family. Nor was he deemed to be profusely talented when he first started playing cricket. Murali’s case, similar to many of the other true greats before him, is a case of achieving greatness; not through heroic fairy tales but through the extraordinary dedication to his calling.

When thinking about Murali’s persona, the first thing that strikes one’s mind is his cheeky smile. In a world of tough professionals, characterized by their ruthlessness, Murali was a refreshing distraction. He was definitely a tough competitor in his own right, but that hard edge in Murali’s game was always laced in a smoother, much more welcoming smile. Indeed, his team mates say that his retirement would be a major loss to all the new players because he was one of the few players in the team who really tried to welcome them into the team.

Murali’s smile aside, another major factor that comes to mind is his almost mythical status among the Sri Lankan public. And for me, that’s where the strength of the man comes through. Murali, or the “smiling assassin” would be gladly selected by many members of the Sri Lankan public, as the chosen ambassador for the country. He portrayed something much greater than just his ability or the unity of the country. Murali, to many Sri Lankans, portrayed the very qualities that the country desperately tried to showcase; ability, achievement and graciousness. Inspite of his many weaknesses he signified the true qualities that many Sri Lankans yearned for. For all the critics who mercilessly hammered the Sri Lankan state for crimes as heinous as genocide, the fact that the island’s most popular cricketer was a Tamil, was an emphatic statement.

Cricket fields have been trodden on by many a great cricketer, some even greater than Murali himself. And although they are remembered fondly, at the end of the day, their footsteps fade with the rolling of the blades of grass. When the records are all calculated and when new ones are made, maybe Murali’s name too will be remembered as one among many. But the image of those haunting eyes, the “helicopter” wrists, the many hundreds of revolutions on the ball and most of all that cheeky smile, will forever remain one of the most haunting images of cricket that the world will ever see.

Thank you for the memories Murali!

I just went through my traveling stack of photos. I call it my traveling stack because it’s a special collection that I have especially for my time abroad. It includes pictures from every era of my life, and covers an astonishing array of people; my childhood, school days, friends, enemies, parents, brothers, cousins, crushes, teachers and most of all people who I’ve lost.

That final category, for better or for worse live only in those pictures now. I look at them and see them transform into people before me: Watch them laugh, sing and make fun of me like they used to. And each time I look at one I try to remember a kind thing they’ve said to me, or a time they made me laugh. I try my best to remember people as best as they were. And the photos, taken mostly during happy and memorable occasions, really do help.

It’s a funny situation that I find myself in. I am away from home, away from most of my best friends, away from the family I love, away from my girlfriend and far far away from most of those magical moments that defined life for me. But I know something inside me binds me deeply to each and everyone of them. Pictures are just the tangible tool for an intangible bond.

Most people ask me why I don’t like Singapore so much. I tell them I have my reasons. And I really do, at least most of the time. But thinking about it, I think what really makes me dislike this place is fear. A fear, that if I start to like this place I’d lose those bonds tying me back to everything that I love. It’s studpid, I know. And ironic really, beacause I’m almost always the guy who instructs others not to be scared.

I’ve never been someone who’s equated money to happiness. Give me a warm milk tea, put me in a room with a bunch of people whom I love, discussing and joking without a care in the world, and you will see me at my happiest. I’ve definitely enjoyed nights out in clubs, or drinking with friends. But nothing in the world gives me the joy of being in a room full of people I love and can be myself with. It may be friends, family, girlfriend or long lost accomplices – all I need is that little jingle in my head which says they are people who’ve seen me as both an arrogant bastard and as the most helpless kid in need. When I trust people, and don’t fear being judged, that’s the only time I reveal my real face.

Such pleasure and happiness unfortunately can only be found at home. Singapore with all its charm and skyscrapers will never capture the nuances of everything that I love. A house, it will always be but never home.

A voice inside my head screams at me to go home. And it gets louder everytime I look at those photos. Yet I know its not time yet. In Frost’s eternal words

“the woods are lovely, dark and deep

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep

And miles to go before I sleep”

And the photos will guide my way and be my silent companions, till that day when I can finally say “homeward bound”…

I have to be in a mood to write. And I haven’t been that. Not for a long time.

The job search has been messed up to say the least. Its not fun to know that you’ve wasted your whole semester plotting and planning everything about your career, only to have second thoughts just when you finish all your your university activities. Worst of all, is accepting the fact that the world is not the playground it seemed to be all this while, that sometimes you will fall short and you will not be good enough for the job at hand. I’ve never really been one to doubt myself. Yes. I too have had my moments when I questioned whether I was on the right track and whether I will ever be good at a particular thing. But those moments have been few and far between, and those feelings were swept away before I had a lot of time to analyze them in depth. But now, for the first time really, I am starting to question myself and my abilities, knowing that such doubts will only make things worse. I guess it can’t be avoided. Everyone goes through such times. I just hope I get through it. Fast and without many injuries. The stakes are high and time is running short.

Amid all that I’ve tried to deal with the end of University and the start of the rest of my life. I expected it to be worst. But I still can’t make any judgments. My days are still spent in a room where I’ve lived for one year now. And I pretty much dine and keep company with the same friends who’ve defined the University experience for me. The real test will come when I move out, in a month’s time.

It really hasn’t been the easiest of times. But it would have been far harder if not for that one voice which has kept me company everyday. Minutes mingle into hours and days effortlessly when we talk. Many a time has she pulled me up when I’ve felt down. What would I ever do without you!!

It will definitely be the end of an era. No more sleeping at 4am to get up 7am for the morning class, no more staying out at the PGP foyer and chatting to friends, no cricket matches going on till 11pm in the night or long drunken chats about the glorious future that lies ahead when we finally enter the real world as adults. If we are lucky all our brief flirtations with adult life have given us an adequate taste of what the next phase of life is going to be. If we aren’t, well, we’d all soon find out.

I know many greet the end of college life with an overwhelming wish to prolong it. Be it through doing masters or failing a couple of semesters, they’d resort to any method to have a few more months of this “fantastic” life. For them student life is a time with unbridled joy and merriment which can never be fully enjoyed regardless of how long it continues.

Not so for me though. When I finish University I’d definitely be quite nostalgic, and sad that its another “goodbye” in life. But to be honest I am much more excited about the years that lie ahead; about finally making my own money, finding my own path in the world, taking on challenges of adulthood and proving myself in the only playing field which really matters.

For 22 years much of what I remember has been life as a student. There have been the highs and the lows and some very long lasting memories. Looking back on all of that I do have my accomplishments and regrets. But I’d be lying if I said every time I reminisce it wouldn’t be with a smile on my face.

I’d consider myself really lucky, if the next 22 are going to be even close to that level of excitement. But I’d be positively overjoyed if I can grow even half as much: Mentally, I mean.

That was the question abruptly thrown at me, when one of my friends heard me say I’d settle for almost anything right now as long as its a job.

To be honest, the question was a fair one, though the amount of 8k was more metaphorical than literal. It was one of my many figures of speech employed to drive home the point that, being attentive in school and being good academically does not necessarily positively correlate with a higher salary.

Now, before I delve further into the intricacies of this matter. Allow me to explain two things. The first; I believe I am a master at the art of minimum effort and maximum results. Mind you, this has not been a certification accorded by any accreditation agency but merely a self proclaimed accomplishment. Hence, the “I believe” before it (if you think that doesnt count look up the Carlsberg Beer marketing slogan).

But I digress. Second, I was dumb enough to declare to all and sundry that I’d be earning far higher than the average graduate salary in Singapore, inspite of my apparent inability to put in a sustained effort into my studies or participate in any of the career guidance activities organized by my dear University. Minimum effort meant minimum at studies, no usage of the career portal and not attending any recruitment talk.

Someone once said “temper gets you into trouble. Pride keeps you there”. In my case pride got me in trouble and then threw me into Alcatraz.

About six months down the line, no such talk can be heard from me. I spend half my day applying to jobs which would hardly give me even a decent pay, let alone the “going rate”. Career talks and recruitment activities have become my social life. Sad as it may sound I’ve reneged on all my fancy talk about being the next boy wonder. I am sure a lot of people miss such banter dearly.

But that’s just one part of the story. For anyone who wanted to see my theory fail, that would probably be enough evidence to crucify me. But well, they’ve missed the woods for the trees.

The pride that was long there has been replaced by a more pragmatic approach. I’ve applied to some jobs which are dream jobs by a long shot. By I’ve also kept my options open, lest I end up high, dry and unemployed come May. The metaphorical 8k has been replaced by a literal “higher than market rates salary”. Minimum effort has been relegated to just one field of my life; studies. The package may have changed but the substance has only been modified, to withstand higher pressure.

As smug as this approach may sound I know it will work. Life was never meant to be spent on day dreams and expectations of luck. The world has its fair share of people who depend on both. What it needs are people whose dreams are tempered by the  bleak reality, but are very much alive.  The need of the hour is to alter reality to make that elusive dream a part of it. When life hands you lemons make some lemonade!!

I’ll still get that metaphorical 8k. Soon.

“The distance between insanity and genius is measured only by success” – Bruce Feirstein,

So university is finally coming to an end. Those three magical years, destined to be the summit of one’s life, the last hurrah before adult responsibility stares you right in the eye, are coming to an end. As sad as that sounds, I have strangely not felt it much for the three weeks I’ve been in Singapore this semester.

My college life has certainly not been a walk in the park;More like a walk through a tropical rainforest – fraught with danger and difficult to conquer but with flashes of mind numbing beauty, that can only be described as surreal. Given my circumstances, life has been quite kind. Although these three years have had their rough patches when all I felt like was giving up, I certainly have a lot of reasons to smile about when I look back on them.

They say you make your best friends in college. I agree. You rarely get to spend so much time with your peers and friends as much as you do at college. You eat with them, go to class with them, drink with them, party with them and in many cases sleep with them as well. However, in my case I’ve never had a close clique of friends whom I have spent time with regularly. That does not mean  I do not have close friends. My friendships are individual and rarely have I been a part of a clique for a sustained period of time. Hence, I cannot claim to have made the kind of friends portrayed in nostalgic songs or college movies, although I would definitely count my close college friends among my best friends.

College is also a time for reckless adventure. I’ve had my fair share from long drunken nights to tales of prank phone calls. These three years have also brought out that party animal inside me which I never thought was there.

But amidst all those escapades I have discovered what I really value, and what I’d not want to be. I’ve discovered how joyful love can be and how people can let you down, sometimes very badly. I’ve reinvented my definition for friends and discovered how even among a host of obstacles such as physical distance, friendships can still be sustained. And most of all I’ve realized that I have the inner strength to surmount even the most difficult obstacles.

Three years ago, on a day like this, I was an employee of a stockbroking firm. I still had not got my offer from NUS although I had pinned my hopes on it and was very confident of a positive outcome. I was moving on with routine and had no clue what life would have in store for me three years down the line. At that time I never imagined I’d graduate in three years, that I would specialize in marketing and least of all, that my future girlfriend was working in the adjoining room!!

If someone were to ask then if this is where I wanted to be three years down the line, I honestly dont know what I’d say;  I’ve always had lofty ambitions though I am rarely willing to exert myslf at achieving them. But now nearing the finish line, when I am about to put in that last spurt to end the race on a high, I can honestly tell myself I’ve done quite a lot. Maybe not really reflected by my grades, but knowing where I was three years back, I am glad I’ve come this far.

College, for me, has exemplified the real meaning of that magical phraze “forever young”. We all set out having our own ideas about it. And some actually bring those perceptions to life.

But a few, like me, discover something else in the process…

“So lets just stay in the moment, smoke some weed, drink some wine,
Reminisce, talk some shit, forever young is in your mind,
Leave a mark that can’t erase neither space nor time
So when the director yells cut,I’ll be fine,
I’m forever young…”

For me 2010 started in a unique way. Leave aside the fact that I had never really celebrated new year at a new year’s eve party, and that I had not been in Sri Lanka to celebrate the new year in 3 years. While those may have added much to the peagantry of the occasion,they had little to do with what defined the moment for me. For the first time I have someone to share all my hopes and dreams with, and as I realized, it can make a world of difference to the start of an year.

Last year, in many ways, was a mixture of troughs and peaks, much more pronounced in their intensity than the normal cycle of life. The year started with life seemingly at its lowest ebb. I had no hope and I felt completely alone in my misery. Try as I may to move on with the other avenues of my life, the failures of my personal life ensured I started each with a massive handicap, which as I would later learn ensured continued failure. Proud as I might be about overcoming adversity, burdened with the knowledge that I had no escape from the biggest failure of my life, I was nothing.

The year moved on though, as time always does. Pain became routine and soon I made allowances for it in my planning. It still crippled me and held me back from venturing out into all that I had in mind, but its surprise element was lost. Little by little I too gradually realized the only way of escaping it was a complete hiatus from Singapore; from every tainted memory, every depressing phone call, everything that reminded me of my lost self. And with the help of some of my closest friends I succeeded in getting over the one thing which for a time completely defeated me. Home, with all its love and familiarity proved to be the healing tonic I had long searched for.

Perhaps the enormity of what I’ve emerged from, and the return of the strength that I had thought was lost forever, gave me an aura of invincibility. For a time I was drunk with the euphoria of unbridled youth. I moved on from one distraction to another with a rapidity that was alarming. With each adventure I realized I was departing further and further away from everything I had been, and everything I stood for. Loss in many ways is a bitter medicine, nevertheless accompanied by sobriety. Conquest, though I didnt realize at the time, could be the real poison, pushing the realms of imagination and frequently reinterpreting the boundaries which I had set for myself.

Looking back now, I realize that that period probably had a part to play in me finding happiness again. I had been let down and defeated by everything which I had long believed in. Understandably I was tired; tired of friendship, love, hope and trust. I needed to realize what life without all those virtues would be like, and I did. It later also awoke me to the realization that, a life devoid of all those was not for me.

But wait. Before I finally came to that realization much more happened. To be honest, at that time I little knew what I wanted or what I should do. I was scared of commitment, most of all because of the pain that betrayal that I thought it would bring.

The difference, was her presence. With her kind words, encouraging smile and enduring friendship, I began to reconsider my cynical beliefs again. I yearned for some hope, searched far and wide for it, and she was the answer to all my prayers. She made me believe again, and little by little I once again began to smile. Not just a fake smile which I put out to the rest of the world because I didn’t want to cry, but a real smile which lightened my heart and filled me with happiness. As I got closer to her, I realized somewhere down the road I had opened up those doors which I thought I had closed forever. I did not know how, but she had somehow managed to call me back. Her voice, a beacon amidst a sea of weariness, had once again brought me back to safer shores.

That voice is one which I have come to love and cherish over the last few months. And it is her face which now lights up my days as I step into another new year. This year will probably be a momentous one for both of us. Finally, we have come to the end of our education and now are about to step into the unknown territory of adulthood. It is a way we both know is fraught with many obstacles but also the only one leading to the fruition of all our hopes and dreams.

It’s scary, what we have before us. More so, because the stakes of success are so high. But with your hand in mine, your warm embrace to assure me, I feel as though everything is an adventure.

I say a silent prayer and look towards the rising sun as I take a final look  at all that we’ve left behind. It makes for quite a sight and invokes a sense of nostalgia in me. But then, I look at your face and feel the warmth of your head resting against mine. The tear that suddenly wells up in my eye is hidden away as I take your hand and start out on the path which lies ahead.

A new year couldn’t start any better………

Yet sometimes we are forced to adapt so fast due to a change in circumstances. One moment you could not have been more in control and the next you are wondering if you ever had any control in the first place. The future you so carefully scripted for yourself blurs and dissolves before your very own eyes and what remains is a patchwork of unconnected images. Its very hard to make sense of such a mosaic and even harder to accept the fact that your life has just undergone a dramatic change. Humans intrisically are slaves of routine and change, especially unexpected change, is never welcomed too eagarely.

Yesterday was one such dramatic day in my life. Possibly even one of the most dramatic. In two hours I made many more choices than I’ve made for the last three years. Even I was surprised with my capacity to make such important decisions in such little time. As emotional as I may be I’ve realized that I can seperate emotion from logic when I really set my mind to it.

Today, acting on those changes, I just realize that dealing with such a profound shift is not as easy as I thought. My present was built on decisions I made in the past, and now that platform has suddenly crumbled. As hard as it maybe to deal with the bitter aftertaste of such decisions I also realize that what I decided yesterday was not really decided within the space for two hours. For many months now I’ve wrestled with the inevitability of my circumstances.

Yesterday was just the completion of such contemplations. The results were just the catalyst. The reactions were not really unexpected; just a bit hard to deal with….

Every semester since coming to NUS my studying rituals have gradually become more intense. The library becomes home, socialization drops to an all time low and the few words I talk to another person is almost certainly an extremely rude comment to vent out the frustration within me. The physical changes that characterize this long and painful phase are equally stark. An outbreak of pimples make my face resemble the rugged Scottish highlands, the unshaven tired and unkempt face, red eyes shining with the effort of keeping open for days on end and the loss of a couple of Kilograms of weight are all included in the package. Entertainment becomes confined to staring at the Homepage of Facebook for half an hour and an unfortunate piece of music that gets played over and over again by virtue of it being the “physc-up-track/s” for the the semester; that honour has been reserved for “Kiss the rain” by Yiruma and “Pocketfull of Sunshine” by Natasha Beddingfield this semester.

As weird as all those rituals may sound I’ve come to realize they constitute an important part of my “aura of invincibility”, which in my mind is the single most influential factor which has contributed to my relative “success” at NUS exams. Regardless of how many productive hours I spend studying at the library or how many notes I go through for all the time I stay online, I feel that I’ve studied and thereby “deserve” to get a good grade. I know for sure that many in NUS study far more than I, and many might be more clever, but for a firm believer in the Law of Minimum Effort, the level of effort that is needed is exactly that; minimal. After many such days of rituals and endless trauma at the library I will swear to anyone that there is a higher likelihood that the sun might rise from the west than I getting a B- for International Relations.Such is the power of faith.

Ten more days to go.  I know during that time that I will swear many a time, burn the midnight candle more often than not, mark my face with a wide assortment of pimple marks to complement my already vast collection and end up bugging many of my poor batchmates than I would care to. But all that are in a way, “battlescars”. The marks that signify the long and arduous journey I have completed, the testimony as to why I deserve the Congressional Medal of Honour and confirmation that I am fully justified to go crazy during the holidays ahead.

Oh how I wish exams were a more pleasent experience!! May the coming 10 days rush by soon.