Droplets of Hope
Things in Sri Lanka have been pretty shit for a while now. It’s been one thing after another, especially from 2019 onwards through the Easter Attacks, Covid, Economic Crisis and ensuing madness. It’s been very easy to feel down and have the need to leave and find a better place.
Yet, in my wanderings into the diverse nooks and crannies of civilisation and people, I have found, strangely, many individuals and situations that have made me grateful and made me realise that there is hope speckled amongst the hopelessness.
I have been amazed at the dedication of certain individuals in the fields of teaching, where they somehow plough on, determined to share knowledge and empower students in their own way, no matter how remote or how poor. I have seen immense skill in the engineers and doctors determined to remain and do their part be it in a flood situation or a crisis in the medical sector, even if it means using Lifebuoy soap to scrub down before a surgical procedure.
I have seen the love for this country’s archaeological and historical landscape in the students who come from those very areas and the lecturers and practitioners who find ways to educate, research and document that which many see as hopeless or lost.
I have listened to the traditional industries be it tea, porcelain or batiks, where they continue on in the belief that things need to get better but the industry will survive.
In the every day actions of people – be it the IRD, Grama Sevaka or Bank, I have found amidst the seeming endless tunnels, a light at the end been shown by those convinced that you can eventually find the light.
In the so called Gen Zs and newer generations, despite their need for instant gratification, I have found a sense of soul and self which links them to a greater understanding of life though not always visible.
Despite some of my darkest days and painful nights, I have found in this little isle a hope that it will somehow see things through. Through my jaded outlook in life, shaped by years of allowing cynicism to settle in, I have been amazed at this hope and optimism and silent resilience that have been speckled drops of light on a shadowy plain. It’s almost like a teasing taste of water to a parched desert. Yet that tease means there can always be more. And so I find some kind of solace in that resilient hope, even when I myself no longer could believe in it.
Let these droplets continue on and may they one day feed a roaring river which will not just quench the thirsty but nourish the fields of old that once knew what plenty was.
