Almost twenty years ago, some of the copywriters working at Phoenix O&M thought it would be good to share their poetry with each other and anyone else interested. There was an empty space on a wall close to the entrance of the Creative Department and this was chosen as the Ketapath Pavura of the agency.
There were some well known lyricists, in particular Kapila Kumara Kalinga, Athula Kaldemulla, Chaaminda Rathnasuriya and Vajira Mahakanumulle. In addition we had the versatile Udayasiri Wickramaratne and Harith Gunawardena of King Barnet and Always Breakdown fame. Boss, i.e. Irvin Weerackody, often quipped, ‘we have playwrights, film-makers, lyricists and columnists but none of them writer advertising copy!’ In fact Udayasiri came up with a title for the book we laughingly planned to publish once we had enough poems: (The Best Poems in the World)’! Yes, we laughed a lot and mostly at ourselves and how ridiculous we could be.
I hardly ever write poetry or anything close to verse in Sinhala, but one day I wrote the following:
Love: a moment, sweet and that’s it.
A few minutes later, Chaaminda put up a poem of his own:
Lust: a moment, sweet and that’s it.
At that very moment Boss happened to walk by. I told him, dejectedly, that Chaaminda had wrecked my poem.
After a quick read, Boss, quick of wit and probably one of the best copywriters in the business, quipped, ‘are you suffering from premature ejaculation?’ From then onwards, until he left the agency, Boss, whenever he ran into Chaaminda, would ask ‘haven’t you written any sensual poetry lately?’
It was a good time. Years later, Chaaminda and I discussed how in certain instances moments can be stretched to eternities. I told him that the poem could be edited thus:
Love: a moment, sweet and forgotten.
He laughed. We still laugh whenever we talk about these ‘working definitions’ of love.
I remember writing another ‘poem’ around that time. I am not sure if I posted it on our ‘wall.’ The title was (I).’ It was a one-liner: (Myself plus my mask).
It was this line that came to mind today and that’s what got me going about the allegedly best verse on the planet, though we said so ourselves.
We have skins and we have make up. There’s a face we own and a face we wear for others. There’s an ‘I’ and there’s also the ‘I’ we believe someone or people in general expect us to be. So faces and masks come into conflict. And indeed, there could come a moment when our masks replace our face forever. Tragically, we find it difficult to pin point that moment, the precipitation factors and the long history that produced this outcome. Indeed, we walk through life, the world and even by the side of love ones firmly believing that we never lost our faces, we could never lose our skins.
Dananjaya Bandara, again in a small poem, offers a different perspective.
The sweetest lesson
left behind by a snake
if there is a new path, then ‘you’
must your skin shed
We see politicians doing this all the time. They drop one flag and pick up another, abandon one color and embrace another — they are skin-changers, almost by definition. What Dananjaya is referring to is something more profound. I feel it is about reinventing oneself, either removing the mask and being comfortable in one’s skin or shedding both and growing a new skin compatible with changed ideology, philosophy, lifestyle, circumstances, landscapes etc.
Masks are easier, skin tough. Abandoning both would require one to be absolutely courageous because it involves abandonment of all ‘truths’ previously held sacred. One might require a good explanation, but then the explanation-requirement is also a skin or mask — to serve the need for validation, often by those who wouldn’t care less if we existed or not.
There are many layers of skin that cloth our hearts and minds. They gather dust, they cloud judgment, they force us to live lives as defined by rent-collectors who force us to lose love by ‘loving’ and concede life by ‘living.’ We end up inhabiting territories as would impoverished tenants who endlessly toil and are bitten by employer, retailer and landlord.
Danajaya’s elegant poem suggests that there indeed is a better path, a better way and better countries to inhabit. Not many get there but there are some who try. Accounts of their journeys, if collected, could indeed be called I’m sure Udayasiri would agree. As would my old friends from Phoenix O&M would, Boss too.
www.malindawords.blogspot.com.
