Itried to ignore my feelings but eventually got bored of reading and thinking, so I leaned against my bed and created space between me and the cupboard. I crept under the bed and pulled a centrefold hidden under the mattress.
The centrefold had become creased from being folded and squished under the weight of the mattress. The naked model in the picture was lying down and seemed really into something. I rubbed my eyes to relax and couldn’t stop staring at her seductive image. Every day after school, I lay on my bed and stared at her. It felt like we had a personal connection and felt super intimate.
I pulled down my pants. I could see myself in the mirror. I grabbed mine firmly and moved my hand back and forth fast until I came on my hand and the ground. I quickly wiped everything with my sarong that lay near me. I did that quickly before anyone could see what I was up to.
Even though the tension was gone, I felt guilty. When I put away my sarong, I realised that I had been thinking about Ruth and Ramani while doing it and felt ashamed of myself for thinking about them like that.
‘What would God think of me now? I am no longer worthy of his care. What would happen if I died tonight? Will I burn in hell?’
Suddenly, I heard some noises from the kitchen, like pots and pans clanging and coconuts being grated. I peeked through the curtains but didn’t see anyone. So, I decided to look out the window and see what was happening. I hid my sarong under the bed, hoping it would dry out by the night when I would wear it to sleep. I smelt like bleach. My hand was sticky, and I needed to wash it. I exited the house from the front door and walked up to the water well.
I pulled a bucket of water, drank half of it, and washed my hands with the remainder. I leaned against the wall at the water well. I purged my lungs of air and decided I was the worst person on the face of the planet.
‘The only one who abuses himself. The one who defies God. A vulgar boy. Why am I like that? Why does God give me this temptation to wank?’
‘Why do I do this thing every day? Will I become thinner? Will they suspect my bad habit?’
‘Will I be less of a man? Will I be able to get married one day?’
‘I won’t do this again. Today is the last day; I am an idiot to fall into this temptation, this dreadful sin, my daily sin. I don’t have self-control.’
I felt helpless. I was no longer in charge of my body. My tummy was hurting, billowing a sound. I closed my eyes and waited for this feeling to go away. I heard my mother calling me. I remained silent, for I could not move.
The more I was like, “I’m not doing that again,” the more it seemed like there was no way I could actually stick to it.
‘Why am I so weak? Why don’t I love my God and stay away from these things?’
‘I don’t want to confess to the priest. That is impossible. How can I ask God to forgive me?’
‘Father, forgive me’ was my plea to my God.
I slipped back home without anyone noticing. I rechecked the room to ensure that my soiled sarong was out of sight, hidden under my bed.
It was getting dark. I hoped I would not fall into my temptation again that night.
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...
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 ...
20 quick-fire questions * If you could give your younger self one piece of advice, what would it be? Your life would not turn the way that you planned. It is OK to be naïve and stupidly young. What do you like doing in your spare time? Writing and reading. Both complement each other. What would you change your name to? My family's name is Jayasinghe. ජයසිංහ in Sinhala in the original script. Phonetically, it is pronounced Jaya-Sinha in Sri Lanka. But in English, through generations, it was spelt Jayasinghe, which sounds differently in English. I would change its spelling to Jaya-Sinha to align it with its original sound. Perhaps my grandkids in Australia could do it. What’s your favourite time of day? The morning hours. I am most productive in the mornings. What is your biggest weakness? I could get carried away with what I could be doing. Sometimes, I must pinch myself to stop what I am doing. What is your favourite colour? Green. Always from my kid days. Would you believe I had...
3 min read·Feb 28
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