After the Cyclone, Before the Year Ends

I write this from Thailand, where I’m spending my holiday.

One of the small islands that surrounds Koh Tao, Thailand.

It has been many weeks since I’ve used this platform, and even as I told myself it was a priority, the density of life felt too overwhelming to summarize. This was particularly true right around Thanksgiving, when Cyclone Ditwah hit. I was planning to compile a light-hearted reflection about what it’s like to bring people together to celebrate an unfamiliar holiday, but the event’s connotation changed in the mere hours after my guests confirmed that they’d arrived back at their homes safely.

Over the next few days, we’d learn about the 600 plus people who died due to flooding and mudslides, and the thousands more who lost their homes. Although my area was protected by canals and cement and did not face many major risks, I watched the weather unfold outside my window, feeling sick to my stomach about how much worse it would be for people in neighborhoods with weaker infrastructure.

A personal survey of the wreckage in Colombo – November 29, 2025.

Sri Lanka’s tight-knit community ensured that no time was wasted with mobilizing countrywide donations and rescue missions. I was technically unaffected, and yet my fate felt tied to those around me – those with family and friends who were in dire need of aid. I had never been present to the onslaught or aftermath of a natural disaster as destructive as this one before, and though the international news cycles moved on, the recovery process remains a tragic reality for a country already grappling with other recent histories of debt and devastation. After four months of spectating this locale, what camp of the culture did I belong to? I was one of the privileged who didn’t see their home destroyed, so I told myself it really didn’t matter how I felt; I just needed to keep listening and relaying, nearby and abroad, in order to play my part in the giant game of telephone taking place through WhatsApp channels and Instagram stories. In the weeks after the worst of the storms, I saw a national village come to life. 

It took me a while to find the “right” words to comment on the cyclone, and only by getting an outside view did it feel like I had contended with the physical and psychological impact of severe tropical weather on a place like Sri Lanka. My irrational childhood fear of tsunamis (I’m from Ohio) is a genuine lived reality for everyone in the country over the age of 23. Low-income, vulnerable groups were the worst hit, as tends to be the case with natural disasters. Forecasts projected that the storms would just grow worse with climate change. It’s bleak, and even today, friends of mine in Kandy (central hill country) are reporting additional waves of heavy rain. I took a solo trip to the serene valley just weeks before the storm. Surely much would be repaired — but what did I see as a tourist that weekend which will never be seen again? 

Hillside view of Kandy – October 25, 2025.

I am not Sri Lankan, nor do I anticipate being naturalized as such. But I bore direct witness to a cataclysmic event whose true intensity is only known to others who also lived through it, and for that reason I feel I have been permanently bonded with the island. India, Indonesia and Thailand also faced flooding during the cyclone, but the scale of Sri Lanka as a singular teardrop-shaped isle (you can drive across it in a few hours) with tourism uniformly serving as a critical component of its economy means that its post-crisis identity can consolidate rather quickly. 

A bird near the canal from the same day that I assessed the flood damage.

When I get back from visiting friends in Thailand — a country, I’ve deduced, that is the closest you can get to the US without leaving Asia — I plan to dig in even deeper to Sri Lanka than I did when I first landed. After a chaotic but undeniably memorable few months, my roommate will finally arrive, and with this new chapter, I anticipate a ruddy return to form. Post-Ditwah cultural affairs in Colombo possess a different kind of energy — one that is determined not to let the worst outcomes discourage the positive forces who unselfishly rallied to meet others’ needs. I can’t speak for everyone in the country, but I figure my testament might as well contain some hope. Let us take a deep breath before launching into whatever awaits us in 2026. 

Now, for some personal updates: for one, I don’t cook as much these days. I think I burnt myself out. I know what I like to eat, so I make no large affair out of my meals. All phases in life have to end eventually, so my previous (and sometimes compulsive) attention toward sourcing food has been transformed into social aspiration. I struggle to discern what, exactly, has been occupying my time so exhaustively that makes the hours seem to slip through my fingers, but perhaps having friends is to blame. Sometimes we find ourselves in good company, and the management of ordinary tasks feels less important. I am grateful for my new circles and all the ways they've helped me engage with my surroundings.

One might discern that I’m finally “adjusted” to life in South Asia – though I hesitate to throw my weight behind that statement after explaining the current set of environmental circumstances. Instead, I would vouch that I’m "adjusted" to the reality of how much – in life, more generally – is outside of my control, leading me to exert less effort in governing the details. That’s a healthy development, if you ask me; I hate being high-maintenance. Now, I actually have the life experience to keep a straight face and a calm heart in the face of sweaty walks, data inconsistencies and days-long delays. I feel like I can handle just about anything that is thrown my way. That's encouraging.

However, there is something missing: I really ought to create more aesthetic pleasures for myself. There’s no reason for my learned austerity to impact my ability to create, yet for the latter half of 2025, my creativity took a backseat to practicalities. In 2026, I want to draw, and paint, and assemble attractive outfits. I want to take more photos of nature, and then reinterpret those terrestrial images with a whimsical pen. I’ve realized that I need this sort of magical thinking to stay sane, but because it wasn’t survival-based, I did not prioritize it. In the new year, I vow to indulge more. Let’s see where this mode of thinking takes me. I know I have some growth to experience as of yet.

Happy new year to all.

-Lydia