A Child of Curiosity How inherent inquisitiveness became a key driver in learning experiences. Denzil Jayasinghe · B orn in the mid-20th century, I am a product of the post-World War II era. My parents, who were teenagers when the war commenced, married in the 1950s. As a representative of the baby boomer generation, I was born under the astrological sign of Capricorn, the tenth sign of the zodiac. My birth took place at Zoysa Nursing Home, a renowned institution in Colombo, Sri Lanka, around 5 in the morning. Sri Lanka, known for its tropical climate, is a beautiful island nation south of India. This climate appealed to me, and I sought similar weather in my twenties, spending them in Dubai, where the winter resembles an Australian summer. Raised by religious parents, I held them in deep affection. However, the church teachings posed a paradox for a young mind, instructing one to love God more than one’s parents. I initially adhered to the Ten Commandments and other societal norms in ...
Shattered Innocence A story of a needle Denzil Jayasinghe · “Shattered Innocence. A Story of a Needle” by Denzil Jayasinghe is a short story told from the perspective of a lad who discovers their father injecting insulin . This discovery shatters his innocence as he grapples with the reality of his father’s diabetes and the fear and uncertainty it brings. The story explores themes of family, responsibility, and the challenges of facing difficult realities. T he pre-dawn light filtered through the window, casting a pale glow over a scene that shattered my world. We were lost in the quiet routine of getting ready — me for the apprenticeship, my siblings for school, and my father for his work. I wandered into my parents’ room, searching for the familiar black comb. What I found wasn’t the comb but a sight that froze me in my tracks. Father, stripped down to his white undies, his usually strong face creased with worry, was doing something… di...
High school Blues A Diary of Despair Denzil Jayasinghe · T his diary is a waste of time. I don’t see the point of writing down my thoughts when they are so obvious. I wouldn’t say I like this school. I hate these people. They are all bigger and stronger than me. They make fun of me for being skinny and smart. They think they are better than me because they can play cricket and rugby and throw punches. They are wrong. In the boarding school, it is even worse. I must share the dormitory with giants who snore like a tractor there. They take up all the space and leave me with a tiny corner. Some eat my food and steal my money. Some call me names and try to drown me while swimming when they feel like it. That is the worst thing that ever happened to me. I wish I could escape from this hell. I wish I could go back to my home, where I was happy and free and had my own room and my things. Where I had friends who liked me for who I was. Where I had teachers who knew me. But I can’t. I am ...
Sep 28, 2022
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