The little boy hiccupped once again, and again, and again. His mother had been trying to help him overcome his hiccups for hours. She had exhausted every remedy, forcing him to drink water, holding his breath, back-patting, and even tickling. Unfortunately, nothing worked.
“I wish I could find a way to make your hiccups vanish,” the mother expressed with a hint of frustration.
The little boy simply smiled. Despite the annoyance caused by his persistent hiccups, he remained a content child, undisturbed by the inconvenience. Without any effort from him, he made a strange and novel sound. He was thrilled by what he heard.
The mother took solace in her son’s cheerful disposition, even though he was physically uncomfortable.
And so, the mother persistently experimented with various remedies to alleviate her son’s hiccups. She exhausted all known methods and even ventured into uncharted territory. Yet, none of her attempts yielded the desired outcome.
In the midst of the hiccup ordeal, the boy’s grandmother joined the effort, gently patting his back in an attempt to bring relief. Regrettably, her efforts also proved futile.
Finally, after a week of relentless trials, the mother and grandmother succumbed to exhaustion. The mother grew increasingly concerned about her son’s well-being.
“I’m at a loss for what else to do,” she confided to her husband. “I’m beginning to fear that these hiccups will never subside.”
The husband offered his support, comforting his wife with a gentle pat on the back. “Don’t worry,” he reassured her. “I’m certain the hiccups will eventually fade away.”
A sense of relief washed over the mother as she acknowledged her husband’s perspective. She realised she needed to relax and cherish her son’s presence, even amidst the hiccup-induced interruptions.
Consequently, the rest of the day unfolded with the son engaging in games with his siblings, laughing, and enjoying life to the fullest. Despite the persistent hiccups, he relished every moment, attentively listening to his grandmother’s captivating stories and assisting her in the kitchen.
The following day, the little boy awoke to find his hiccups miraculously absent. Overjoyed, he darted to his grandmother to share the good news. His grandmother patted him on his back.
Then he ran to his mother.
“Mother, my hiccups are gone!” he exclaimed gleefully.
The mother’s face lit up with a radiant smile. She was profoundly grateful that her son was finally free from the irritating hiccups that had plagued him.
And the little boy beamed with happiness, knowing his family loved him.
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...
The Man with the Bicycle A Godfather Without English Denzil Jayasinghe 5 min read So this fellow, Wijetunga, arrived one humid afternoon in Warakanatte – a name given by the government, clipped from some dusty file in a distant ministry, and pinned onto our village like a misfitting badge. He came not with fanfare, but with the tiredness of a man who had travelled not just across provinces but across unspoken expectations. The new Grama Sevaka – government-appointed village functionary, dispenser of forms and permits, arbitrator of neighbourly disputes, and authoriser of rice ration books. He hailed from Enderamulla, a place that stirred vague murmurs among the older women in our family – whispers of ancestral ties, of some great-uncle’s cousin’s child from that neighbouring village. But no one invited him for tea. No one mentioned him at the dinner table as anything more than “the new man in the office.” Despite the murmurs, he remained a stranger- neither embraced nor excluded-...
Comments
Post a Comment