I made a new friend this weekend. An unlikely match but I suppose that is how fate works. It was a busy Saturday morning and we bump into each other just as I was checking some purchases through at a book store. And somehow, we ended the weekend in each other's company.
Her name is Anna-Meeka. Like me, she's a single mum, except that her daughter is all grown up. As she told me her life story, we sipped Ceylon Tea from her grandmother's bone china teacups. I was awed that they were still in pristine condition, considering that Meeka's mum brought them with her when they left Sri Lanka yorns ago.
While coffee is normally my beverage of choice, I really couldn't say no - after all Meeka's grandma - Grace De Silva's family once owned vast estates of tea in pre-independant Ceylon. Needless to say, they lost all this - through Grace's husband's indulgance of the drink and cards. Plus, it was a fuzzy time - the war - When your colonial masters wanted something you owned, you really couldn't say no.
Meeka's dad - Thornton, was Grace's 2nd son - after eldest aunt Alicia (a gifted concert pianist), Uncle Jacob (a morose soul who felt life cheated him out of a whole lot of things, but education primaryily), Aunt Frieda (she was quiet, shy, bursted into tears at the slightest of drama but she could bake and cook!) and youngest Uncle Christopher (the 1st one to step foot on English soil).
Earlier on, I said that Meeka and I forged an unlikely bond and I say this because Meeka is a emmigrant from Sri Lanka to Britain. Her dad, once a happy-go-lucky poetry-sprouting Casanova, was worried that the growing tensions post-independence would make their city of Colombo unsafe for Meeka to grow up in.
But apart from this slight geographical issue, we do share a fair bit of commonalities. For like her, I grew up with a grandmother that was a silent but a force to reckon with. Like her, we have cupboards full of items, treasures that our grandparents accumulated in their setting up of house and home, but they are left there - at the back of the cabinet. Like her, I fought during my youth to find my identity and made the mistake of thinking love would last forever. And like her, grew up with a family of colourful characters, each having their own twisted story.
I cannot help but admire Meeka's teacup set. Now bone china is the toughest of porcelains and does indeed contain bones. It became an item of prized possession status in the 18th century because its resulting material - hard, resilient and ivory white in colour - is also fragile and requires gentle care. Generations after generations pass them down, more often than not because of the high value these possessions could fetch (Grace sold a set to raise the passage fare for her Aunt Alicia to go to England), but because of the silent message each hand imprints into the sets as they are passed on.
Now if you have yet to realise, Bone China was a book that kept me company over Saturday and Sunday. Written by Sri Lanka author, Roma Tearne, it was so rivetting that as I closed the last pages, I felt as if I had known the De Silvas of Colombo all my life and that Meeka was indeed a friend of mine.
This second novel by Tearne will take you on a journey back in time, but whose lessons are still very real and applicable in our day and age. For those who have ever wanted to 'run-away' from their own home-soil, this book would make you think twice or even thrice. And for those who had indeed called another nation their home, this book would make you wish for the smells and sands of your own shores.
But more importantly, I think the message that Tearne is trying to get across to her readers in this book, is the one that is the key to owning a set of bone china heirlooms - tiny chips, crazing, cracks and breaks all will affect the value and beauty of your bone china, but it does not render them complete value-less. And the same can be said about life and family - moving away, living away, forging your own lives - all these are the tiny chips, cracks and crazings to the extended family concept - but it does not mean that they are completely useless. For there is no greater bond than those that run through your veins.
I hope you enjoy Bone China as much as I did with your favourite flavour of tea in your favourite cup!
Book information:
Bone China
by Roma Tearne
Publisher: HarperPress (1 April 2008)ISBN-13: 978-0007240739
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