Author: chamindrawar

'A magic bean buyer and a realist in one shell.' Chamindra lives in a small town in her native Sri Lanka. When she is not working or taking long walks, she writes stories set in bizarre lands full of curious characters. She took the rare chance to publish her debut novel in India and is overjoyed.

Wolf in the red scarf

Mia picked up her basket of frog skeletons, put on her burgundy dress and stepped out of her house. The witch gathering was scheduled at half past moon rise. Mia hoped she wasn’t late for the ceremony. Her path was laden with rotting leaves; a chilly wind caressed her back as she took mincing steps on the narrow path. The robe clung to her slim form, accentuating the exquisite lines.  Two silver stars shone on her delicate earlobes. A lone wolf wearing a red scarf watched her progress with interest.

Mia shivered as a memory of forceful a kiss haunted her. She ran her fingers through the frog skeletons, seeking comfort.

The wolf moved silently, its sense of smell leading it along Mia’s path. From time to time, the wolf licked its teeth.

Mia walked on, apprehensive yet coveting the night’s revelry that awaited her and her sisters in the moonlight. The said moonlight shed its indifferent gleam on the wolf’s red scarf and Mia’s burgundy dress, illuminating the folds of each garment.

The soft padding on wolf’s paws hid its progress from Mia’s ears but her mind was full of images of wolves and rarely strayed from its constant vigilance.

The wolf leapt forward silently, towards a patch of brown shrubs where the path diverged. There it waited, comfortable in its red scarf and conviction about Mia’s frailty. Its red eyes shone like rubies in the faint light of the indifferent moon.

As Mia approached the brown shrubs, the wolf sprang, aiming for the appetizing curve of her slender neck. Mia’s mind sprang into action, urging her to duck and roll over. The wolf landed on its paws and growled, ready to pounce once more. But, Mia was quicker. She drew her wand and unleashed a stream of rage-filled curses on the wolf’s pulsating body which froze on the spot and began to shake. A cloud of black smoke emanated from Mia’s wand covering the wolf’s body.

The indifferent moon saw the wolf’s limp body fall on its side. For an unnaturally long minute, even the wind ceased to blow and the trees became silent. Slowly the black smoke dispersed, revealing a struggling frog under the red scarf.

Mia tightened her finger tips around her wand, her eyes shone with pleasure, goose bumps rose on her bare arms and her toes curled in ecstatic expectation. A cry of pleasure escaped Mia’s lips as she pinned the frog on to the brown soil with her wand. It struggled for a short while before succumbing.

Mia wrapped the dead frog in the red scarf before placing it on top of the frog skeletons in her basket. Then she walked towards the flickering light in the distance where her sisters were gathered around a fire to begin their feast.

Steep climb

It was a steep climb

I stumbled on the steps

Scraped a knee

Hurt my back

And the old bruises


Aches and pains

Were my sure Companions


The lingering breeze

From the top of the mountain

Urged me onwards

Where a still pool

Bestowed cool droplets

On weary travelers


Monk’s poem and the ugly woman

Lighting bugs flickered from leaf to leaf. The dying fire crackled sending forth jaded wisps of smoke. Monk lay on his old blanket that smelt of egg sandwiches, staring into the cobalt blue sky, trying to catch stars with his mind’s eye. Unclear thoughts kept distracting him.

He shook his head from side to side, to clear his brain and tried to concentrate.

The ugly woman watched him with interest, her face partially concealed behind her limp and long hair. Her eyes shone bright red.

“What was the poem again? If I can memorize it perhaps I’ll be able to catch the stars,” Monk informed her.

She recited in her deep and soothing voice,

Fear grips like fire drops

On delicate skin so smooth

As she walks a tight rope

Balanced over a storm

Or an orange fire warm”

Monk turned to look at her with a foolish smile on his face. “I love hearing you recite. ‘The Dark’ leaves me when you are here. Perhaps, we can get married and I won’t ever have to bother with stars. Will that be too hard? Please consider it and tell your folk” he pleaded.

The ugly woman didn’t move. “You know that is impossible. I can only visit. Now try again, I’ll recite for you.”

Monk sighed and went back to staring at the sky. The ugly woman began to recite in a sonorous tone.

Monk’s head began to nod, his body relaxed as the stars began to greet him. Some silver ones danced around his head while gold stars shimmered close to his two eyes.

“Bliss” Monk murmured.

The Dark waited with a glum smile across his shattered face, not too far from the ugly woman.

The ugly woman kept on with her recital, Monk seemed ecstatic and The Dark glum as ever with his lanky arms swinging to the poetic rhythm.

The ugly woman lowered her voice as if to put Monk to sleep and The Dark began to take mincing steps towards Monk.

He crept close, looked at the Ugly woman and winked. She stopped the recital, a little sad but resigned. The Dark loomed over Monk who began to shake and closed his eyes tight. The Dark reached out and touched Monk’s forehead with a blackened finger. Monk shivered and began to cry. The Dark began to rest all six fingers on Monk’s face, one by one slowly.

A chill seeped into Monk’s body.

Monk sobbed harder but finally opened his eyes. The Dark stood tall and firm over Monk’s old blanket that smelt of egg sandwiches. Monk shrieked and tried to price The Dark’s fingers off his face.

The ugly woman wept near the fire, or Monk imagined so.

The Dark tightened his grip, closing his hand over Monk’s nose and mouth. Monk struggled, unable to voice his pain, his body went limp.

The Dark looked at the body, melancholy, resentful, angry and filled with terror.

The ugly woman emerged from beyond the dying fire to touch The Dark’s shoulder. He put his arm in hers.

The two of them walked over Monk’s fire to look for his sister.

Nonsensical questions that truly matter

The pirate asked the captain

Would you stop shams?

To survive on clams

Priced from a rock

Set in the vast sea?


Would you embark

On a shipping spree

To thwart guilt

by saving a shark?


Would you forgo a drink

Of the most expensive wine

To dance with gods

On a woodland brink

On a serene night


The Captain cocked his unibrow!




Beneath the mist: Vipassana meditation retreat

On a clear day when the fickle mist lifts, you may catch a glimpse of the true face of the mountain. There will be countless green trees, heavy, moss covered rocks, tiny creatures and mounds and mounds of dirt. And if you are absolutely noiseless, you may hear even the gentlest rustle created by wind and manifested through things substantial and not. This is what my imaginary critic would call a passable simile to the discovery that awaits when you take charge of your erratic mind and set out to explore its contents.

For 10 days (technically 12 days), I learnt the technique of Vipassana at the Dhamma Kuta Vipassana centre in Mhakanda, Kandy ( It was not only one of the toughest tasks I have ever lived through but also the most valuable journey of my life so far. This is a recount of certain aspects of the said journey.


According to popular belief Gautama Buddha rediscovered the technique of Vipassana around 2500 years ago. Following his hard-earned discovery about ‘Dhamma’ (law of nature) and the Four Noble truths at the age of 35, the Buddha continued to teach this non-sectarian and practical approach to discovering the truth within oneself to countless individuals throughout ancient India for the next 45 years until his passing away.

S N Goenka

A Burmese national of Indian descent, S N Goenka began teaching Vipassana meditation in 1969 in India and attracted hundreds and thousands of people. He adopted a non-sectarian approach to training and taught people from various backgrounds around the globe. Even after his passing away in 2013, the meditation centres that commenced with his guidance continue to help thousands of people around the world.

Weird and anxious warnings (and lessons in kindness)

Though I kept my decision to go on a meditation retreat private as much as possible, I had to let the cat out of the bag to a few people and lying was out of the question. While most of the responses were encouraging, I did meet some resistance.

First instance

“I’ve read in the papers, some women go off to meditation and then get sucked into it. They stop caring about family life. Your poor husband. Just go this once but not again. He won’t stop you but this is not the way.”

And in the same breath they continue (only figuratively).

“You don’t even perform any ‘Pooja’. You don’t offer flowers or light a lamp to the Buddha statue. So and so does every morning and evening. And it is a good practice to adopt in a ‘Buddhist’ household. Otherwise you are not a real Buddhist.”

However, this person swallowed their entirely legitimate misgivings and did all that was in their power to help me get to the retreat.

Lessons learnt – 1 A lesson in mere kindness. 2 My, what a hindrance unchecked cultural religion can be to real progress

Second instance

“There is a greater agenda around the world to push religion on people. If one wants to collect ones thoughts, one should go on a holiday.”

This person drove me all the up a steep hill on a road filled with potholes to the meditation retreat in spite of their own misgivings and warnings.

Lessons learnt – 1 A lesson in truly unselfish kindness. 2 My, what a hindrance unchecked atheism can be to real progress

Uphill work

At the orientation on day 0, all participants took a vow of noble silence and agreed to keep the five precepts in order to develop the necessary grounds to practice meditation from a place of discipline and morality.

On the next day we began our grueling schedule of meditating (following instructions given by S N Goenka) from 4 30am to 9 30pm with 5 to 10 minute breaks every hour or one and a half hour in addition to longer breaks for meals. We survived on two unexpectedly delicious vegetarian meals a day plus evening tea along with a banana and cream cracker biscuits. I found the fare satisfying and it kept me going swimmingly throughout the day.

Each evening, after the day’s long hours of meditation was done and dusted, we listened to a discourse by our teacher S N Goenka. His discourses were apt for each day and each day we discovered that he had pretty good grasp of our daily experiences.

I made the first ego-shattering discovery when I realized what a wild animal my mind truly was. We spent the first three days, trying to watch and concentrate on our natural breath and the mind kept taking me on wild trips into the past and the future. The body reacted in kind with searing to dull pains occurring all over its corporal being.

While S N Goenka is the main instructor and guide, we were assigned assistant teachers to guide our individual practice. I was blessed with a wise and a compassionate teacher who had the uncanny ability to pick on both my strong and weak points at exactly the right moments. Without her help, I would have lost my bearings on the 4th day itself.

They teach Vipassana technique on the fourth day. That is a bridge each of us can only cross in solitude with the compassionate voice of our teachers shouting instructions from the shore. It is narrow bridge and balance is of utmost importance.


Vipassana is a deep technique and 10 days is not enough to reap full benefits. But the intensity of practice coupled with guidance can make one discover certain truths in all their actuality. Each meditation sitting was different and after a few days one stops having any expectations and accept each moment as it is. One is bound to stumble upon the inevitable truth (in varying degrees) that true equanimity is the only liberating attitude towards mediation and life itself. If accepted, adopted and practiced unceasingly, equanimity will usher in compassion, kindness and sympathetic joy (again in varying degrees depending in one’s own mindset). That is the wonder of the technique and the brilliance of this particular teaching method, meticulously broken into phases within 10 days.

Harmonious existence

At the retreat, we lived in close quarters with strangers from all over the world. While Dhamma Kuta had provided all the necessary comforts including hot water, I expected at least some friction to manifest in the air. But I was pleasantly surprised (a perk of being uncertain). Everyday someone would use their breakfast break to clean the bathrooms and the toilets in the block and sometimes you catch the sight of a kind soul sweeping the corridor. One rainy afternoon, I went back to the block a little concerned about my clothes which I had hung out in the sun, only to find out that a kind stranger had already hung them to dry within the safety of the corridor. To this day I haven’t the faintest clue as to who the kind stranger was. Whenever, our paths crossed, each and every one stepped aside to let the other person pass. This invariably created a few funny moments in which we had to break our oath of noble silence and chuckle.

There two days when our block and the one below ran out of running water. But the girls bore this particular difficulty without a single complaint and shared what little water was available. Later we learnt that wild boars had come up with this clever plan to attack the pipes up the hill to teach us a valuable lesson in equanimity.

Throughout the 12 days we spent together I don’t recall a single incident that resulted in pettiness, jealousy or fierce ‘othering’.


Today, I am filled with gratitude towards Buddha for rediscovering this technique and S N Goenka for building such a strong foundation to practice. I am grateful to my husband who remains a constant inspiration and a motivator and drove all the way on day 12 after a going through a rough week of his own to pick me up from the retreat. I am grateful to all the people in my life who continue to extend their unconditional love and support. I am grateful to the teachers, ‘Dhamma Servers’, administrative staff and the kitchen staff of Dhamma Kuta for their extraordinary kindness. I am grateful to my fellow meditators. I am even grateful to the wild boars for their timely lesson.

Vipassana Meditation Centre – Dhamma Kuta ( is managed entirely on donations given by meditators who have completed at least one 10 day course.

"Life is a strange abiding

A place to live, grow and thrive

(And aspire for dispassion)

A glimpse of victory

A glimpse of failure

A drought wrought in a dust cloud

Followed by a rain soaked breeze"

Some of the mediators on the last day Meditators

A kitten and a grey star

It was a dark evening and rain had ceased just a moment ago, when a grey star disturbed a little kitten’s contemplation of the road in front of her. The grey star fell on the little kitten’s beige back. Annoyed at being rudely disturbed, she shook herself and meowed. The star fell onto the concrete slab beneath the kitten’s stack of papers and rolled off into a corner. The kitten went back to staring at the road. She spied a lone figure of a girl in a drenched beige coat and trousers wading her way through the heavy flow of vehicles. Those vehicles disturbed puddles, splashing water all over the place and dousing the girl’s clothes in muddy water. But she walked on undaunted, her shoulders still held upright even under the heavy weight she carried on her back. She looked happy to be alive. The kitten purred.

From the corner of her eye, the little kitten spied a hefty man in a grey coat watch the girl’s progress from across the road. He took one step ahead, hesitated and with a vigorous shake of the head and a punch into his own chest, set forth towards the girl.

As the hefty man appeared in her field of vision, the girl’s body tensed. The little kitten’s whisker’s twitched a little and a faint shadow of blue smog began to envelop her tiny body.

The girl tried to appear unconcerned and concentrate on the road ahead. The man stepped right in front of her, bent towards the girl’s right ear and whispered something. The girl shook her head and tried to go past the lurking figure of the man. The little kitten stood on her legs, alert and a little stiff. The blue smog around her thickened.

The man held out a hand to touch the girl and throwing all pretense of unconcern to the wind, she began to run. The man grabbed her by both arms. The blue smog around the little kitten thickened and began to spread until the whole street was covered in a cloud of blue smog that stank of rotten carcasses. The little kitten’s growl drowned the girl’s scream. A red patch decorated the plain grey of the man’s coat.

The grey star rattled in its corner.

The End




I wait to see you with bated breath

And a head full of dreams

Dancing amongst the clouds

As I go about my day’s work

A sudden heart wrench (a happy one albeit)

Stops me in mid motion

You the eternal, elusive desire

Lies seemingly within my reach

But you never come

Not really


And I return to my

Not so dull existence

A little heart broken

A little wiser

And a little