My babies - last of the Mohiccans

Monday, September 24, 2012

Friday, September 21, 2012


Happy 18th Maria

The road has been long,
For eighteen years now.
We've braved the weather,
And together we plough.
You're on your high way
To seek greener pastures.
In hope we wait,
For what the future nurtures.
Although we miss you,
So many times.
We know you'll make it,
And come back with smiles.

Happy Eighteenth Birthday Marie Girl
God Bless You!

Big Dad, Big Mum, Mum, Nadia, Abdullah & AbdulQadir
Sep 22 2012, Riyadh, Saudi Arabia

Thursday, September 20, 2012


Sixty Years

Some people say a nation is made outa minds
The Third World’s made outa some strange kinds
Muscle and Blood and Financial Woes
A land full of meek and a Government full of foes

You spend sixty years, what do you get
Another day older and deeper in debt
Oh God don't you call me 'cause I can't go
I’m waiting for the Brits to come back for more

We were born in this land with hope for a life
We toiled all day and struggled with strife
Though sixty fine years have come and gone
The big bosses kids, they think nothings wrong.

You spend sixty years, what do you get
Another day older and deeper in debt
Oh God don't you call me 'cause I can't go
I’m waiting for the Brits to come back for more

We were raised in this land in sun and rain
Fightin' and trouble are our middle names
Corruption and power have enveloped he sand
There’s no hope for us except to sing with the band

You spend sixty years, what do you get
Another day older and deeper in debt
Oh God don't you call me 'cause I can't go
I’m waiting for the Brits to come back for more

If you see the writing you better take it in stride
A lotta men didn't, a lotta men died
An Elephant on crutches, the Hand of Evil
If the right one don't a-get you
Then the left one will

You spend sixty years, what do you get
Another day older and deeper in debt
Oh God don't you call me 'cause I can't go
I’m waiting for the Brits to come back for more

[apologies to Mr. Tennessee Ernie Ford]
Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, Feb 16, 2008


Happy 12th Birthday, Abdullah, my Wonderful, one and only, Grandson

Each and every morning, I am going to smile when I see your face, and laugh when I feel like crying.

Each and every morning, I will let you choose what you want to wear, and smile, and say how perfect you are.

Each and every morning, I will wait while you tie your shoelaces and get dressed for the day, without complaining.

Each and every morning, I am going to wish you goodbye as you get off the car and cross the street to get to school.

Each and every afternoon, I will unplug the telephone and shut my office computer down, so that I can call you home to see if you are back and doing alright.

Each and every afternoon, I will think about what a wonderful and successful man you will grow up to be, someday in the future.

Each and every afternoon, I won't worry about how you are going to complete your homework cos I know you will have it done it before nightfall.

Each and every evening, I will hold you in my arms and tell you a story about how you were born, how we raised you, and how much I love you.

Each and every evening, I will spend my time chatting beside you for hours, and miss my favorite news TV programs.

Each and every evening when I run my fingers through your hair, I will simply be grateful that God has given me the greatest gift that I have ever wanted.

Each and every weekend, I will let you splash in the bathtub and let the floor get wet and still not get angry.

Each and every weekend, I will take you to your favorite restaurant and let you have your favorite fried rice, shrimps, crabs or lobsters to your hearts desire.

And when I kiss you goodnight I will hold you a little tighter, a little longer. It is then, that I will thank God for you, and ask him for nothing, except just one more day with you, for me… just one more day

Big DadRiyadh March 25, 2009


Cricket Fever

That shattering crack of willow on leather
crowds roaring hither and thither,
the boys in blue, gold, and black
sprinting far ahead of the pack

The batsmen walk and take their stance
the bowlers pounding in a trance.
Colts screaming, Mustangs roar,
Lovely ladies, fashions galore.

Another great moment is at hand,
Old boys arriving from far-off lands.
In shorts and caps and hats ablaze,
Flags and rattles, it’s the weekend craze.

And the ball doth fly across the grass,
Fielders scrambling, one big morass.
Umpires waving, fingers and hands
Its cricket fever, lets strike up the band.
Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, Mar 13, 2009



There were those times,
when I remember;
how she used to read to me.
Bedtime stories at night,
so I could linger,
and fall soundly asleep.
And then she would,
talk about herself,
and she would say,
that her life was sad and quiet,
filled with patient moments.
The joy of having us,
yet, the sorrow of being lonely.
And we used to play cricket
straight home from school,
she would yell out her heart,
to come inside.
And wash ourselves.
Have some biscuits and tea,
and spend time on homework.
Then, if we did get angry,
and say something nasty,
she would still keep cool,
and talk about other things,
that faced us tomorrow;
And we would make her laugh.
Her life of course, as we know
has not been quite as peaceful
as she would have wished;
And when I gaze upon
our present days,
with moments of memories
from those times;
it seems like a wall
with graffitti all over,
and some patches of white
where the paint has still not smeared;
The dust on the streets,
the hoot of the owl,
a bat flutters over,
while a double decker bus,
passes and screeches.
It still seems so beautiful,
the times we then shared;
Back home at Bamba, with Mummy.
There are those moments
I cannot forget.
Like raindrops on the grass,
butterflies on the flowers,
the cukoo always wailing;
Shades of blue skies
in colors and hues,
evenings of fragrance
wafting across the roofs.
While I listened to music
and sang in the bath,
the sound of running water
watering the plants.
And those luscious ripe fruits
that hung so low,
that we relished so sweetly,
while life unrolled swiftly.
We’ve come thus far,
and shes hit the nineties.
Is it that short,
to have lived and loved?
The end will surely come,
death will kick open doors.
While we wait in silence
and surely, so does she,
with the same patience,
she used to show us then.
I wish I find the time,
to see her once more,
so I can tell her again,
that I am so thankful;
And how much I love her,
for her every single way.
The only single one,
who loved us most of all,
seeking no return;
No, nothing at all.

Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, Feb 28, 2009



Once, there was a town,
Where we used to roam;
Through the straight and narrows,
Romping all the way home;
Skimming the beach sands,
Across Railway Lines;
Putting bat to ball,
On every street defined;
Ringing on every doorbell,
Scamping down the Streets;
Frolicking in the Sunshine,
Dripping in rainy beats;
The patter of small feet,
Those days were filled with smiles;
A child’s delightful retreat,
We’ve walked a million miles.

Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, Feb 25, 2009


A Clarion Call

Let us have hope
for the morrow,
and be free
from all sorrow.
Working day & night,
and doing only what's right!
Ensuring Peace and Prosperity
across our Motherland.

A single Nation
united as one,
61 years since,
Independence was won.
The duty we owe
is to salvage our land,
inspite of strife,
and mischievous hands.

A mighty loud roar,
to the forces of good;
who fight evil and pain
and deliver us again..
Conflicts overcome,
tranquility will be won;
with Unity and Love,
A Blessing from Above.

"United, we stand,
Divided, we fall"!"
A struggle against violence
and not against love.
May the land flourish
and may God give us a Hand,
Let Sri Lanka live
Like no other Land!

Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, Feb 4, 2009



Is there,
we can call perfect?
we can see as perfect?
Some time
we can use as perfect?
Or are they
a figment
of our wild imaginations?

Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, 2008



Those hallowed halls,
Green grassy grounds;
The toll of the bell,
And a scamper of hounds;
Majestic Men,
Momentous Moments.
If we could only go back
If time hadn't been stolen.

We learnt of books,
We learnt of men,
We learnt to play,
All kinds of games;
Under the watchful eyes
Of Majestic Mentors
Who cared for us,
Like Moms with children.

To those who have gone
We say a sweet prayer,
May they rest in Peace,
Until we get there.
And then we'll all sing
In one shrill chorus
"Thy spirit first to life awoke"
"For Hartley, Harvard, Marsh & Boake".

Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, Nov 2007


Welcome, back to my world

You went away
And I paused for a moment
Thinking about those yesterdays
We had shared

I was in disarray
Hoping for contentment
Still couldn’t forget those days
That were ours

You’re coming back
Back home to me to stay
Where we can share
Everything we lost

This time its for real
You gotta believe in what I say
You’re all I got
Please don’t take it away.

Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, Nov 5 2007


The Passage of Time

The hours pass,
turning into days,
and weeks and months,
and years;
Bringing so much
pain and sorrow
and tears;
Amidst so many
days of wine
and roses.
Happiness, within fears.
Great moments of success,
winding up
amidst dreams
filled with
bitterness and hate;
Turning into
a crazy kind of payback
for many sins of old,
That can never be put away
resting in minds
and hearts
hiding in the darkness
of every single moment.
each passing day.
as if in chains,
In a prison
called home;
Where respect
has been lost
and broken.
Like a bird, trapped
in a cage.
Wanting to soar
among the clouds
and be free
from all pain
and suffering.
some call it,
while some prefer
And others,
While some,
even say its nothingness.
An empty field
that stretches
into eternity
where one walks
and never feels weary.
Wherever it may be
What is most missing
is Peace of mind
and tranquility,
if they still exist
in this place
called the Universe.

Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, July 24 2007



‘twas commitment
that brought them together.
Yet, in his eyes
she never was there.
He strayed looking for
It never came to bear.
He lived a life of deception,
filled with emptiness and nigh
He will die in this situation,
for there’s nothing to cry

Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, 2007


The Cricketers Ode

Every run you make,
Every ton that's great,
Every ball you scrape,
Every catch you take,
I'll be watching you

Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, 2007



I still remember,
Grandpa taking me by
the hand and telling me tales;
in that rickshaw that moved on
two weary feet of an old man who
was so strong; to run along the streets
of Colombo through dust, rain and storms;
contributing to the seeds of my learning, that was
to grow into whatever I have given to life thus far; that
keeps me motivated, pushing me forward, achieving, on and on.

Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, 2007  



hand in hand
by the open sea;
cold froth splashing
across tired and weary feet,
granules of warm white burning sand,
struggling to stick, in between tired dusty toes;
thick and warm salt concoction envelopes the evening sun,
wafting sourly through open nostrils seeping into hungry lungs;
with sweet scented dreams of a lifetime of youth and expectations,
lingering within thoughts of fulfillment immersed in gusts of madness.

Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, 2007  


The Journey

I see trees
filled with green
swaying in the wind;
like people on the move
arms waving sadly in goodbyes,
telling me a story that someday soon
the journey will end with that final stop;
at that station that seemed so far, far away
only a few decades ago, when we laughed and romped
across those asphalted lanes back home on rickety bicycles,
wielding that cricket ball crashing through someone’s glass pane.

Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, 2007  



The rain
comes pouring
down upon the roof,
rapping like hip-hop music
mingled with the background of
flowing water running through the
yard, making multitudes of drains along;
while we fold paper boats and send them sailing,
soaking in the beauty of a cold wet morning outside,
while Mum screams out to everyone to get inside the house
and dry up before she yells for Grandpa and brings the roof down.

Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, 2007  


The Mango Tree

The mango tree, she
stands, so proud and tall;
reaching her branches out afar,
tempting our tongues with succulence,
needling us to pick up that stick and belt it
upwards reaching for the sky and bringing her offspring
down to earth where everyone scrambles to pick up and chew,
enjoying the fruit of this bounteous earth; she asks for nothing in
return for the gifts she chooses to give; us hungry young hearts and
greedy gastronomy; while she blesses the rain for her daily sustenance
and spreads out the shade for our own existence; do we thank her at least?

Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, 2007  



have all those
days of wine and roses
gone, to memories of an era
forgotten by everyone who lived
in those times and enjoyed the beauty
of a wondrous life that was filled with honey
and sweetness of a generation that knew no difference
in ethnicity, race, religion, or color that divides humanity
across the globe in every single nook and corner of every continent
leaving us to remember and contemplate a life that has lost its gentle flavor?

Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, 2007  



You were there
when the lights dimmed
around me and enveloped the
air into a darkness, that was so still
and cold and hungry in the twilight of
my life that moves silently along through
days and nights of work and sleep, like a train
trudging through the hills and dales of a lifetime
filled with so many wonderful thoughts and memories
that we shared together amidst ups and downs that came along
and kept us alive in this revolving globe that rolls along until eternity.

Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, 2007  



Why do we
cry, sometimes
even though we are
grown up and getting old?
having seen so many years go by
leaving us in the past and hoping to
see even more; possibly, in the future
as time ticks slowly on, taking us deeper
into places that we’ve never been before;
wishing sincerely that the sun will shine brighter
tomorrow, showering real peace and comfort around.

Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, 2007  



Now I see,
that it was just
a dream that took
a while to unfold; and
make me realize that I was
sleeping for so long in my own
little world, filled with sunshine and
laughter, sadness and thunder, drifting
in waves across the skies mushroomed in clouds
and rain; grappling with that brolly that was keeping
me safe, amidst a world that was struggling with its desires.

Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, 2007  


The Place

There’s a place
in the mountain tops,
where I want to linger,
spending the rest of my days
in hours of sweet scented slumber;
living off the rich and bounteous earth
that savors a multitude of dark secrets of life;
waiting for that final and fleeting moment in time,
when the birds will sing forever and brooks will run along;
and deer would flock around to join in the beauty of life’s sojourn;
when the caller cometh to take me away to wallow in that Garden so green.

Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, 2007  



Bless you Papa,

for sowing the seed that germinates life

within this beautiful world.


Bless you Mama,

for nurturing life and bringing it forth

with a miraculous birth.


Bless you Brother,

for reaping the fruits that ripen with time

amidst laughter and love. 


Bless you Sister,

for supporting the family in good times and bad

with a love that’s so tender.


Shame you Papa,

for running it all and seeing it decay

with fire and turmoil.

Shame you Mama,

for wasting each day and letting it all

turn into strife and sorrow.


Shame you Brother,

for sitting in silence and serving us all

with a bitter tomorrow.


Shame you Sister,

for the insecure life that has failed us wthin

and sees no good future.


Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, 2005 



‘Twas the break of dawn

as my feet kissed the lawn.

And I stepped outside,

amidst the stillness of the tide.

Breathing the cool air

that whistled through my hair.

As I sat down to view,

a Water Monitor slid through.

The twittering of the birds,

would have woken up the nerds.

A bright red ball up high,

rolled out into the sky.

Bringing life into the Lagoon;

What a beautiful tune,

That plays itself, every single day.


Eco Village, Dodanduwa, Sri Lanka, Aug 21, 2005


Nuwara Eliya

Rail me back to Nuwara Eliya,
There's where the tea and the pears and berries grow.
There's where the streams trickle sweet in the springtime.
There's where the mist in the morning hangs low.

Drive me round the vast open spaces,
There's where the dairy and the meat and veggies grow.
There's where the horses neigh snorting in the sunshine.
There's where the flowers bloom brightly from their bough.

Walk me up old Piduru-tala-gala,
There's where the fauna and the wily old fox roams.
There's where the rocks are hewn all over nature.
There's where true peace reigns calm in our home.

Take me down to the lush green Plains.
There's where the birds and the bees and fauna go.
There's where the world seems to end in its lifetime.
There's where the beauty of life seems to flow.

Riyadh 2006
[to be sung to the tune of "Carry me back to old Virginny"]



Is there such a day
as tomorrow,
that will bring sunshine
and take away the rain
and the agony of pain
from this big blue marble
where humanity struggles
for survival
maybe, in vain?

Is there such a time
as the future,
that will change
the evil ways
and bring happier days
into hearts and minds
of each and evey kind
where life struggles
maybe, tomorrow?

Riyadh 2005


Lost in Time

We seem to be lost in time
busy with our commerce;
making money and building towers,
waging wars and reaping flowers.
What did our old folks do
in their lazy old lifetime
to bring forth such a generation
of humanity that seems to be
totally lost in time?

Riyadh 2005

Wednesday, September 19, 2012



Just a brief
conversation, over dinner;
Two Worlds had spun!

Two hearts, spoke
across a table;
Had so much fun!

Is it love,
or a loneliness;
that brings us together?

From up above,
He provides us;
A sweet scented savor!

We reach out,
so blindly, moving;
Away, out of sight!

Like two ships,
passing each other;
Through a stormy night!

Ministry of Defence, Seeb Camp, Sultanate of Oman, 1992



I set foot on the sands of the Arabian Gulf
In Nineteen Seventy Nine;
The sands, since then, have swallowed me up,
And consumed all of my time;
My time has been spent, in work and in prayer,
Through the warm Arabian Nights;
The nights have exploded and lifted me up,
To wondrous towering heights.

The streets are all paved with 24K Gold,
In the mystic Middle East;
The Gold is so pure, spreading an array,
Of a gala sumptuous feast;
The feasts are so many and time has so sweetly,
Played on my favorite song;
The love songs of life, that keep on singing,
Moving me on and on.

The nights are lit up, from the skies above,
By a million or more stars;
The twinkling stars that shine out of the dark,
Are like watchful eyes from Mars;
The eyes that peer ‘neath black silk veils,
Of sweet and charming faces;
The faces of fortune, in oil rich sands,
Of sleek and flowing graces.

How many times have I left these sands,
To return and roost back home;
But the sands keep calling, luring me back,
To its great mosques and domes;
The domes that keep shining, reflecting the warmth,
Of the sizzling noon day sun;
The sun that keeps rolling, simmering the sand,
Around, almost everyone.

A Home away from home, is what I’ve found,
In these hot and burning sands;
The sands of time, that have kept me so close,
To these wonderful Arabian Lands;
The land of Prophets and a great belief,
That one man toiled and taught;
A teacher so mighty that none could defeat,
Even though, they, in vain fought.

Let me rest beneath the burning sand,
When my day is over and done;
Let my day be near, so I can lay my head,
Beneath the scorching sun;
Le the sun shine bright, through all of time,
In this beautiful bounteous land;
Let the land flourish and grow on to become,
A heaven on earth so grand.

Ministry of Defence, Seeb Camp, Muscat, Sultanate of Oman 1992