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Showing posts from December, 2022

The sounds of my village

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The sounds of my village The memories of a sleepy village in Mudiyansegewatta, Kelaniya Denzil Jayasinghe 4 min read·Dec 22, 2022 1 The morning started with calming sounds. Chirping sounds of birds filtered through the open window grills. The  soothing sound of a koel bird  intercepted the repetitive chirps — a calming playlist first thing in the morning. Then the sounds of the family radio of holy sermons, the Buddhist Pali Gatha, followed by Catholic preaching. A dose of religion before the start of the day was mandatory. Being good and virtuous was baked into children’s DNA. This is how my day started in a quiet village, some ten kilometres north of the capital of Colombo, in Sri Lanka, where I am from and raised. It was a great way to start the day in tune with nature. Where I grew up was a small commune where loosely erected fences marked the properties. Everything belonged to everyone. The land, fruit trees and shared playgrounds in the collective. No barricades. Open social conn

William Maama (මාමා)

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  William Maama (මාමා) A boy’s impressions of a gentle giant and a grand spectacle Denzil Jayasinghe 6 min read·Dec 17, 2022 L ate into the afternoon, I heard water splash. It was the sound of William Maama bathing next door. Before I go any further, let me introduce the characters in this story. William, the main character, is the one who is bathing. Mary is William’s wife. Justin is fourteen, their elder son and Linton. Eight, their youngest. These four were my immediate friendly neighbours. And me, Denzil, was ten years old. William was William Maama, ‘මාමා — Maama’ meaning uncle. Mary was Mary Akka, ‘අක්කා — Akka’ meaning big sister. Justin was Justin ‘අයියා — Ayya’ meaning big brother. Linton was Linton, just plain Linton with no salutation, for we both were of the give or take, of the same age. Their water well was parallel to our veranda. When William bathed, I sat on the ledge of our veranda and chatted with him. We carried our conversations across the scantly erected fence, wi

The shopping assistant

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  The shopping assistant Experiences in adolescence Denzil Jayasinghe 4 min read·Dec 11, 2022 As the oldest among my two siblings, I grew up with a load of family duties. My father was away most of the time, working in a distant town in Sri Lanka. With that, I became the man of the house by stealth. I assisted my mother in many ways. One of them was buying groceries. Every day after school, it was my regular duty after school. My mother gave me ten rupees and a list of things to buy. Tucking the money and the list in my pant pockets, I raced to the shops, fish and vegetable stalls and grocery stores. With a huge bag of groceries on its handle, I rode the only mode of transport in our household, my father’s bicycle. I enjoyed the bike ride and the opportunity to interact with shopkeepers and vendors, learning the art of negotiations. To top it all, I enjoyed meeting friends while riding along in our neighbourhood streets. The routine shopping junket started with the fish vendor. The fis