Inthe seventies, Tin Tin magazines were my absolute obsession! Those colourful pages were like my best buddies, always there to make me laugh and daydream. I didn’t just read them; I cherished them like they were my pals. I flaunted them proudly, showing them off to everyone at school, on the bus, wherever I went. I’d read those adventures repeatedly, which were so engrossing that I’d often miss my bus stop!
Money was tight, but I didn’t care. I’d save up every Rupee to buy a new copy from Cargill’s bookstore, costing me Rs 7.70 each. It might not sound like much, but it meant the world for a young guy with no extra cash. They didn’t bring all the issues at once; every month, a fresh one would show up at Cargill’s, and I’d snatch it up eagerly, anticipating the next one.
It’s funny; people might have thought I was too old for Tin Tin, but I couldn’t have cared less. While my buddies were stressing about exams or thinking about girls, I was diving into Tin Tin’s adventures. Thanks to those comics, I explored Arabian deserts and customs through his journeys. With his slurred, unique phrases, Captain Haddock became my hero. “Billions of blue blistering barnacles” — that line? Classic.
Ah, and let’s not forget about the incredible nightingale Bianca Castafiore, whose voice could shatter glass, and the dynamic duo of detectives Thomson and Thompson. These characters were like magic in my life, bringing endless joy to a young lad like me.
Then there was the hero, Tin Tin, with his quiff hair. I thought I was like him. I wanted to be an adventure hero, catching the bad guys like him. I loved how much he depended on Snowy, his pet dog and companion. I saw the rest of the world through Tin Tin’s eyes, his sense of adventure and discovery.
Reading Tin Tin was my escape. Those pages allowed me to forget about school pressures and be a kid. I didn’t have to be responsible; I could enjoy the thrill of the adventures. I was addicted, man. Couldn’t put those magazines down for the life of me.
Those beloved comics weren’t just an escape; they were an addiction, a ticket to a world where school pressures melted away, and the thrill of discovery took over.
My parents knew how much I adored those comics, so they kept my collection safe. And now, here in Australia, more than fifty years later, they’re still with me, waiting patiently to be passed down to my grandkids. Those Tin Tin adventures? They’re not just comics; they’re cherished memories of my youth.
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 ...
Demons and Devotion: A Family’s Pilgrimage Denzil Jayasinghe · “Demons and Devotion: A Pilgrimage to Tewatta” is a short story by Denzil Jayasinghe about a family’s pilgrimage to a holy site in Sri Lanka. The story follows Denzil, the eldest son, as he reluctantly accompanies his devout parents on this journey to celebrate their 25th wedding anniversary. Although initially sceptical, Denzil reflects on his childhood faith and his family's hardships. However, the pilgrimage turns unexpectedly when an encounter with a priest who claims a demon possesses Denzil creates tension and leaves him angry. T he air hung heavy with a solemnity that felt out of place for a silver wedding anniversary. Denzil’s father, whose pronouncements held the weight of scripture, declared, “We are going on a special trip to the holy place of Our Lady at Tewatta. This day, showing God’s blessings, will be a private event for our family.” On a recent arrival for a two-week holiday in Sri Lanka...
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