Denzil's Stories

  Passage An experimental poem Denzil Jayasinghe 3 min read · Aug 30, 2022 11 A lad’s experience on a sweaty afternoon in the seventies. I walk through the sand In forty degrees of heat Shoes covered in sand And feet feeling the beat E ntering the building The lift smells of garbage Cannot get into the lift So I take the stairs with courage On the second floor Hakim, in his school uniform ‘Will you come later today?’ ‘I need help with maths and more.’ ‘S ure, buddy, see you at five.’ Sweat pouring out of ears Vest soaking wet To the third floor, a few more stairs An ugly mess next door Slippers and dusty shoes Scattered everywhere Disgusted, I open my door R ush past the wall cabinet Past the large chairs Start up the AC The AC thunders I put on the stereo Pushing a cassette and presto Rod Stewart is rocking And I am soaking G et into my room Unfinished books Girlfriend’s picture On my bedside nook I undress fast bathroom I dash It has no lock Soak my sweat away W ater so hot On th...

  Cyril Stanley A story of gratitude — Denzil recalls a friend who looked out for him in his budding years in Sri Lanka Denzil Jayasinghe 11 min read · Aug 27, 2022 1 Give us a bit of background on how you met Cyril. It was the seventies in the sleepy village of  Dalugama , my ancestral hometown, some ten kilometres from Colombo. With their flared bell bottoms and Afro-style hair, it was easy to notice Cyril and his younger brother Edward. I’d bump into the duo in the neighbourhood as I walked home after a day at college. A casual hello greeting turned into a conversation and an evolving friendship with the duo at an age when making friends was effortless. However, it was Cyril who reached out to me first. What did the brothers look like? C yril was a younger version of  Smokey Robinson  and his brother, Edward, a junior  Lionel Richie  but darker. Both had curly hair, grown long, copying the Afro-American idols of the seventies. Smokey Robinson, Cyril Stan...