AsI step into the corner store, the scents of freshly baked bread and burning oil greet me. Mudalali, the friendly shopkeeper, flashes me a smile and calls me “Baby,” a nickname he’s given me since I was little. I don’t mind it, though. It’s comforting, like the sound of the store’s floor under my feet.
I scan my mother’s shopping list in my cane basket. We need bread, sugar, tinned fish, and coconut oil — nothing too fancy. I don’t mind running errands for my mother, but I’m tired after a long day at school. Mr Suraweera’s endless talks and yelling still echo in my head, and I’m glad to be out of his classroom for the day.
Clusters of bananas are hanging at the entrance of the store. Mudalali sells everything that the villagers need in a hurry. The shop is popular with the villagers, and the owner, Mudalali, is liked by everyone, young and old.
Mudalali is a jack-of-all-trades. He expertly weighs items, easily handles cash, and keeps track of customers who buy on credit. He even makes tea for anyone who asks. I watch him in awe as he effortlessly juggles his tasks, wondering how he does everything. But when he hands me my change, his friendly demeanour never falters.
I spy a stack of notepads and notebooks for sale in Mudalali’s cabinet and yearn to buy them, but I’m short on pocket money today. Maybe another time. With the remaining change, I buy a few Narambic lozenges for my siblings. They’re not much, but they’ll be a sweet treat after a long day. My sister and brother would be glad to gobble them.
As I leave the store, I feel a sense of relief washes over me. The afternoon sun is warm on my skin, and I’m glad to be outside. I hurry home, eager to finish my homework and catch up with my friends. But for now, I’m content with the simple joy of running errands and being a helpful son.
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 ...
Neville at the Edge Denzil Jayasinghe 3 min read · 10 hours ago In the lazy, sun-dappled days at St. Joseph’s Novitiate, where the beach seemed to hum with the scent of jasmine and the distant promise of monsoon clouds, there was a little haven we boys held dear — the Milk Bar. It was a humble shack just beyond the school’s creaky gates, its tin roof glinting under the noon sun, its wooden counter cluttered with frothy glasses of Milo, bottles of sweet vanilla milk, and a jumble of pencils and dog-eared notebooks for forgetful lads like us. To us, De La Salle boys, it wasn’t just a shop. It was a sanctuary, where the weight of prayers and the Brother-Superior’s stern frowns dissolved into the clink of coins and the soft buzz of our chatter. Neville was always there, a gangly boy with limbs that seemed to outgrow him, as if they belonged to a taller shadow. His parents had sent him to the Novitiate dreaming he’d don a Christian Brother’s collar, but Neville, with his twice-failed ...
Packing lists An addiction to packing lists Denzil Jayasinghe 3 min read·Nov 6, 2022 My fascination with packing lists started when I was young. Eventually, it became a life-long habit, a kind of addiction. When I enrolled at the Christian brothers’ formative school at eleven, a packing list was given to my parents. 2 School shorts 2 School shirts, white 2 Baniyans, aka vests 4 Pairs of white socks 1 Sarong 2 Casual shirts 2 Casual shorts 2 Handkerchiefs 1 Toothbrush 1 Comb 1 Bedsheet 2 Pillowcases 1 Pair of black shoes 1 Pair of canvas sports shoes My parents went into fast gear to assemble the packing list. My father started from the bottom of the list, the shoes. He took me by bus to Colombo to P G Martins, a shoemaker. We came out of that shoe store with DS-branded black and Shinwa-branded canvas shoes. Also bought was a Ford suitcase, in shiny sky-blue colour. Mother bought vests and socks from Velona, a garment outlet run by one of our relations, Aunty Helen. A trip to a ta...
2 min read·Apr 29
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