Portrait

it always surprises me, how the death of a loved one never has the power to bring everything to a halt. i never get used to it; how the world just moves on, how the next day dawns as if nothing had happened, as if nothing were lost.

the loss is personal, personal to many. and yet life has an uncanny, continuous way of sliding forward, forcing you to step ahead with it. maybe this itself, this inexplicable steadfast speed with which life moves, is mankind’s only defense against loss. you are forced to move on, to forget and remember, to live; and so you do.

everytime, i almost expect the world to just stop. to atleast pause, for a moment, so that i can recover from what is now before me. but it never does. and therefore, neither can i.

ruwani seimon was a legend. her life, a legacy. a legacy of love, of will, of the bravest fight any one human ever put on.

she will be remembered, revered, and the story of her life, told for many generations to come.

i have no words to describe who she was, what she meant. words are, after all, rather useless at times like these. they fail you just when you need them the most. they are fickle, inexpressive, never able to behold the entire, wonderful being that was a person so true, so pure and so full of life.

i step forward now, with the world, holding to whatever i can, grasping at small memories tucked away carefully at the back of my mind; the smell in a hug, the smile on a face, the tenderness of a friendship; for comfort. for life goes on. and i must go with it.

here’s how i feel about steve, exactly, captured in two simple photographs (both taken by deshan tennekoon).

admiration. adoration. wide-eyed awe. reverence, even.

and of course, absolute, calming, solid trust.

and trust had a lot to do with equus. there was a lot to worry about. but i knew we were ok. always. i never doubted that. from the first nervous, awkward moment, right up until that last momentous one, i knew i was in the right hands.

i keep telling people equus was a whilrwind. that’s because i don’t know how else to tell them how quickly it all seems to have happened, now that i can think about it in retrospect. before my very eyes, as i was watching, i could see it slowly but surely unfurl. day by day, i watched it change and transform and grow…and happen.

life is like that. the best of things seem to kind of happen before you know it, and leave you wishing that you’d paid better attention, given more time to savouring every second.

i went to the audition reading with steve expecting nothing. i came out nervous. i walked into a rehearsal full of pro’s. telling stories, sharing jokes, talking of the good ole times with a fondness i can only wish i come to know…speaking of names that i had only heard of in legends with such love and familiarity…irene wanigaratne, winston serasinghe…and of course, richard de zoysa.

i thought to myself, ‘wait a second. i can’t do this. i’m not like them; they know what they’re doing. they have known for so much longer than i have even existed’.

but that’s what i mean by good things happen quickly, they slip by unnoticed. because, hey, i did do it, but if you asked me today, i couldn’t for the life of me tell you how. it just kinda happened. it was sudden, it was here before i knew it, but it was great.

equus was a whirlwind. for the first time in my life, the day before the opening night, i still had no idea what to expect. what would people say? what would they think? would they be thrilled? blown away? outraged? i really didn’t know. and i let it take me by the hand, and surprise me. and equus was always like that; full of surprises. every day, something new. something i had never noticed before. something i had never heard before, known before.

and it is that kind of play; a play that never bores you. one that you can never stop learning from. one that teaches you more the more you see it. the more you hear it. the more you listen to what it is saying.

equus was a whirlwind. every single person on that stage was a living, breathing inspiration. each one an honour to work with. and i will, just for that, bow down in humility forever.

you know you had a great thing when in a few days, you are left wishing you remembered more, that you had saved more. that you still had some of it left over.