Skip to main content

JESU BA

JESU BA!

Gulitinous rice balls covered with generous amounts of grated coconut, thick kuay teow noodles in spicy soup, barbecued chicken and okra,cold coconut milk jelly. One wet, cold, muddy, shivering indian girl amongst the havoc raising, amazingly charged sharpshooting Burmese youngsters. WELCOME TO THE BURMESE WATER FESTIVAL! (where no one leaves dry or hungry!)

ha ha ha, that was as fun to write as it was to attend! So yea, the celebration placed on the last day of the Burmese New Year (which lasts 4 whole days)is absolutely AMAZING. Started as one of my housemates and I made our way to what appeared to be a crowd of strangers. Ha ha apparently, at this festival u dun have to knw someone to chuck water at them.

We were greeted by smiles and ppl holding mugs of water that was non-hesitantly chucked over bth of us while we still struggled to look for someone we knew. After being thoroughly drenched by the welcoming fire brigade, we found our two burmese housemates, ready to hug us, it din matter they were wet and soaking for we were the same and in a minute, the food, the yummy food arrived along with some rummy-fruit punch.

But to let someone off so easy is apparently also not the tradition. While were were sitting there, generous friends comtinued with emptying out their mini-pails, some warm water, some normal water, some bloody cold freezing water and floating ice cubes..on our heads and bodies...all to the accompanying sound of burmese music.

Ofcourse, u din hear that very well. What with everyone runing everywhere with water jugs..that ofcourse until someone mixed up the charcoal with bits of water to make mud that was generously shared... and so i went being so naive, to think that now that i was practically pretty wet, i would be excused, to fill up some water with a stolen pail to wash my face...except i was chucked head first into the pool... all in the name of good fun...that went around plenty..the only regret being that i din get there earlier...well till next year!

Jesu Ba..to all those today who made the evening one so fun!

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Celebrations

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 16 ; the sixteenth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton . It was a hard ground that felt like sand paper. When he started his journey, it was the soles of his feet that were in contact with the ground, but now as he pulled himself closer to the station, it was his whole body. His elbows were scraped, bloody and fresh scab peeled bled out to leave a trail of red on the wicked hot dusty ground of pain and suffering. All around him slow moving bodies crawled towards the direction of hope, all along leaving patterns of blood, sweat, skin and pus. These bodies had seen civil wars, droughts, genocide and lived to tell a tale of a people who now belonged to a nation listed as one of the poorest countries in the world. This is now, but before the list, was a struggle of massive proportions, under reported and quietly hidden

Escape

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 10 ; the tenth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton . The Temple Widow A narrow dirt path, generously peppered with tiny pebbles, tiny miniatures of their gargantuan ancestors, leads to a bridge. It hangs, rickety and old. Old but not well used, old like abandoned and not frequently used. The bridge hangs low over a small stream that slowly gurgles past, happy unlike those that visit the place. The bridge leads to a temple. It is not very big, only perhaps the size of a small hut and at the most the size of an average temple hall. The temple has no deity; the temple has no one corner that doesn’t look like the other. It is clean, well swept, and empty. It has no furniture, and excepting a series of well spaced out windows, the walls remains uninterrupted. She stumbles in, the lady. She is not very tal

Time Travel

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 8 ; the eighth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton . I haven't got the memory of a vedic tantric. Neither do I ever claim to remember all. All I know is what I know, question my memory if you want to. I don't ask you to remember, I don't ask you to believe. In fact, I'm not asking you for anything at all. It is your choice to be here, to read this. So no, I don't owe you a favor. I happened to chance upon a watch, on one of my travels. Turning the dials of such a watch, could transport you to the past, to the future, to any time. But time, my friend, is not how you think it is. It is not a straight line, and you cannot just by chance hop into the world of dinosaurs and wooden weapons. It is a series of transparencies, like films of clean sheets of paper laid on top of each other. You look from above