An oasis in the desert… A drop of water in the hot, silver-white sands in the Arabian desserts. That is what you were to me when we crossed our paths in the Sultanate, thousands of miles away from our homes. You were 13 years my junior when we met. I was married, and you were not. We took solace and comfort in each other's company since we felt alone and unhappy in the environment that we had to work to earn petro-dollars for our respective families at home. It was pure agape (Platonic love). We could have been otherwise, but weren't. We both knew and felt that what we had was as good as it could get, and would be ruined by anything “too intimate” or "more and further”. Love is something inexplicably, indescribably wonderful, bound intricately with life. There may be nothing strictly ordinary as such. At the same time, there never may be something unique as such in this whole world. It should be the strong desire to feel being loved and to experience love that is the last thing a person may find impossible to forego when all else has been lost or abandoned with ease. No matter what social status we enjoy, what station of life we are in, we need love. People tend to do many things for the sake of love which they would have never done under normal circumstances. We do not need lofty things in love. Sometimes things like strolling aimlessly hand in hand on a deserted street, whispering sweet nothings in a quiet beach on a moonlit night, a shoulder to lean on to at least for a moment without fear or suspicion in times of distress, to share ideas about life in a very matured chat, etc. are some of the things that we desire in love. I remember some verses in a song that goes something like this … I have not built sand castles about you, Nor do I entertain any misgivings about you. I will never lay claim to your life, And will not feel angry when and if you belong to someone else. This comes as a very advanced take on the type of love I speak of. The lyricist goes on to say that “don't you ever shed a single drop of tear because of me. Let us agree that we will be lovers that would never unite in life.” Love does not mean to imprison someone within limits and boundaries marked by the other, or anyone else for that matter, but something that transcends beyond that and something that has free reins. Another lyricist, comparing his lover to a star in the distant sky, says, “You be where you are and I will be where I am.” He means to say that you are a star in the distant sky and I am a person living on earth. But you stay where you are, as you are, and I will stay where I am, as I am. The common thing that is binding us together is the empty space between us. You cannot come down to earth from the sky. If that happens, may be I will lose you, and we will lose this moment. Hence you better stay where you are whereas I will stay where I am, watching you. All you have to do is stay put where you are. You don't have to keep saying that you love me. No need to keep reminding about it as if we will forget it. Sometimes, love exists where the words “I love you” are not uttered at all. The problem arises when we try to frame that love and come to terms with accepted social standards. In any bond, there is a point beyond which the bonding loses the tenacity. Hence, in a far-off country, in an unknown city and amongst unknown people, two ‘different' like-minded persons bereft of any kind of ‘love' would have many things to share, wouldn't they? Is it strange and wrong, then, for them to become so close but so far in love and find comfort in each other's warmth? If not for this bonding, the two-year work contract period would have been a hell on earth for both of us. I don't think that you will doubt for a moment that the story of a remarkably beautiful and much younger unmarried woman's brief and circumstantial friendship with a very middle aged and married man is far-fetched. It really happened to me, some 25 years ago. I still remember vividly the day I left her for home. That day, I realized how powerful the platonic love was. The rivulets of tears she shed on my shoulders soaked my shirt so hard that even the almost three-hour flight time back home wasn't enough to dry it completely. It was the day I realized how much tears a person can shed in one go. And that cemented my opinion on how powerful true love, though platonic, could be. I was a middle-aged man who recognized and did what was proper to my station in life with regard to a much younger, very attractive woman fate had put in my path. I never doubt that she would ever forget me too, and I always believe that she loved me as much as it would have been possible for her to do so. Although we have not seen each other after we parted ways, I still cherish that memory and still love her platonically.

Just lost someone dear to me -Ranoldie Love Morty to suicide. She was very dear to me and I just don't want anyone losing or becoming a victim themselves.

In our country, there had been a protracted conflict between two ethnic groups, namely: the majority Sinhalese and the minority Tamils. In fact, the two parties to the conflict were the Government of Sri Lanka and the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam. I had been an active participant in this war from the outset since I worked for the Department of Police. In the 1980s, I was serving in the East of the country where the terrorists' recruitment drive was in full swing. Our duties centered on gathering intelligence, grilling suspects, and assisting the armed forces in cordon and search operations. In one such instance, two young girls had been brought to the local police station on suspicion of attending the secret indoctrination classes held by the terrorist cadres. As usual, we interrogated the girls and dispatched the dossiers on them to our headquarters in Colombo for further legal action. The girls in question were held on Detention Orders and were detained at a local police station under the care of a police matron. The dossiers on them were submitted to the Attorney General department (AG Dept.) for further action. In the meantime, the detainees had to languish at the police station until a decision was taken by the AG Dept. whether to file plaints against them in courts or release them without indicting them. During their incarceration at the local police station, I had occasion to see them almost daily. Gradually we became so friendly that the relationship between us changed from that of a law officer and suspect to one of a lawyer and client. The conclusion we had reached from our inquiries that the girls were innocent and had not taken any active part in the alleged terrorist activities merely facilitated this change of attitude. This fact alone made us take pity on them and help them get back to the society as soon as possible so that they could lead normal lives again. As time dragged on, I felt I was drawn towards one of them in a special way and before I knew it, I was in love with her. These girls did not know a single word of our mother tongue, the Sinhala language, and we too had to communicate with them through an interpreter. What we started as exchanging our ideas by sign language developed into a more concrete mode of communication with me burning the midnight oil to learn the Tamil language for the express need of exchanging the most basic pleasantries with her. My parents and siblings, who got wind of this intimate relationship, objected to it vehemently and threatened to sever all connections with me if I did not toe their line. Their objections were founded on very logical and acceptable grounds. The general attitude of we Sinhalese towards the Tamils was one of hatred. Since I hailed from a very high caste Sinhala family and she from the Tamil community, the inter-marriage was unthinkable, to say the least. The conflict between the two communities aggravated the problem very much. In the meantime, the girls were pardoned and sent back home. Despite many obstacles, I kept in touch with her at all costs and took time off to meet her on the sly making use of every trick of the trade to escape the prying eyes of the terrorist undercover agents who were out to get rid of anyone having connections with the Sinhalese, especially the law enforcement officers. However, at some later stage I was transferred to our headquarters in Colombo and therefore had to leave her and return to Colombo. However, we continued to keep our line of communication intact. Then, one day, she left her home on her own volition, came to Colombo looking for me, and refused to go back. Throwing caution to the wind, we took the plunge to sign on the dotted line on the spur of the moment. I was ill-prepared for such an eventuality. I had no plans for the future. But I simply could not turn her away. I had only one thing – a strong determination. The sequence of events that ensued tested my patience to the hilt. I was ostracized from home. Later, I had to say goodbye to my employers, as I did not want them to know that I had married someone who was on their records as a terrorist suspect. We led a life on the run, moving from place to place and hopping jobs and finally after many years came back to my ancestral home to settle down. Time moved on. So did our lives. The ethnic conflict breathed its last and the country returned to its pristine self. It has come to a state now where my wife's services have become indispensable to the students in our locality in the form of a ‘Tamil teacher' and everybody loves her for the great service she renders by imparting her knowledge in the Tamil language to the Sinhalese students. Our triumph was a classic example of sheer determination, dedication, and trust. And there is only one piece of advice I can give anybody who is faced with a similar problem. Persevere. You are bound to be rewarded in the end --- just like us, who have been blessed with two lovely kids.