Sri Lankan Male: Traveller

A handsome Tamil man whose looks may inspire poetry and prose.

I'm a traveller.

Should I consider myself lucky or among the less fortunate? I have travelled by choice. I chose to leave my rural home in south India to study in Malaysia. I chose to go from there to Sri Lanka--for reasons of ideology.

My last destination was Dubai where I went to earn more money than I could at home. Now I'm back in India... to get married. And therein lies the source of my angst.

I'm a traveller. I'm not the marrying type. I try to tell that to my mother, but those three simple words don't resonate with her, or anyone else in my family.

Sometimes I just resign myself to my fate. Why should mine be different from that of any of my relatives and all the other boys my age in the village? Being a traveller has made me see and understand things differently. But having been a traveller, in a way, is also the cause of my current angst.

Because of my travels I met Harsha in Sri Lanka--I fell in love with him. He was the type of person I could trust and admire. That didn't go down so well with my political activism.

He was Sinhalese and I was there to support the Tamil cause. I wasn't a militant; I wasn't really even political. But I had gotten to know some of the refugees who had settled in a camp not far from my village in the south of Tamil Nadu. I cared for them, that's all.

A distinctive face (and friend) one never forgets. >>

I guess Harsha and I were not meant to be. Fate again. He had to make a choice to either serve his country by joining the Sri Lankan Army or honor his family's wishes by going to work abroad. He chose to go abroad--he was like me. He wanted to see someplace new.

He went to Oman, met another Indian guy and soon forgot about me. I don't begrudge him, although I still get heartache when I close my eyes and see his dark, brooding eyes. He always looked so serious, but he was in fact a cheerful and playful person.

He was three years younger than me and I was his first. He was bound to find someone new as he moved out into the world.

Love lost is not my worry now. My angst grows to anger when my mother nags me about marriage. I'm a traveller. I'm not the marrying type. How many times do I have to remind her. I want to go to Kenya. I want to experience the safari there, and I want to see how the Africans live. I wonder if their farmers and if their villages are anything like ours.

In Malaysia I got to know one Kenyan. I think I was attracted to his exotic looks. He was black and beautiful. That's how he had always described himself, anyway. His name was Jamil, which he said meant handsome. And that he was. But I never revealed my thoughts to him. I was much younger. That was my first time abroad and he was my first real crush.

And I was crushed when Jamil had suddenly left the institute where we were both students. He had lost his funding and I lost a big brother.

City of Trichy in Tamil Nadu, India (by David Lazar)

My choice is that one in the second row, with the long pigtails. That's what I told my mother one day when we were travelling on the Madras-Kannyakumari express. She pinched me and said she's too young. Later I suggested another one on the bus we were riding. She was wearing a green sari and had frizzy hair. Amma complained that she was too dark, too thin and too poor. That's why I choose her, I said. And I wasn't joking. Anyone would do as far--or rather, as little as I cared. I might as well close my eyes, spin 'round once, point and say, That one!

I met Pradeep in Dubai. Four years had passed since Harsha, and I didn't even know whether my Sri Lankan lover was still in Oman or whether he had gone back to his home in Kurunegala.

Pradeep was gorgeous and so sweet. He was from north India. He always told me that I was the exotic one.

<< O man of Bengal, your eyes ignite the strongest passions.

But it was he who was the exotic, mysterious one for whom I lusted. His skin was a pale olive color, except for the 5-o'clock shadow that emphasized his masculine features.

His eyes were ever piercing. One could never turn away from their gaze, which was nothing if not seductive. It took only one glance his way for me to become spellbound.

That happened when I saw him for the first time in the canteen of our common workplace, in Dubai. I was never sure if it was love for Pradeep or just an overpowering physical craving that I had for him. I knew that I had loved Harsha. As for Pradeep, the only thing I can say with certainty is that I was under his spell.

I got snatched from the soft, warm embrace of Pradeep--tugged away by my mother's incessant demand that I come back to Tiruchirapalli for marriage. I would have to abandon the fresh smell of my lover's skin, especially fragrant when my nostrils were buried in the thick fur that covered his chest. I would have to leave all of this to fulfill familial obligations.

My travels had once again left me with heartache. As far as Pradeep was concerned it was I who had chosen to leave him--just as Harsha had made the choice to leave me. I promised Pradeep I would be back. I pleaded with him to be faithful and wait for my return. I was determined to say to Amma that I am a traveling man. My place was not in the villiage, nor with a wife, not even with family or relatives there.
To be continued...

My name is Rajneesh, and my unfortunate date with destiny is just one week off. Perhaps better fortunes will come my way--somehow, someday--and rescue me from what seems like a tarnished karma. Whatever happens I'm still a traveller, and I WILL find a way to chart my own path.

Does Rajneesh's tale ring familiar?
Will he and Pradeep get together again, or does fate prevent this?
If one's life is a matter of fate who determines it--
one's parents, economic circumstances, Krishna, Allah, Jesus Christ...?

Read also the Sri Lankan Male narrative, That Night.

This is a fictitious account with no relation to the lives of the people in the accompanying images. The photos were found variously online and edited to match the theme of this post. No claims of credit or ownership of the original images are being made by Sri Lankan Male.

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