Denzil's Stories

  Adventures in Mutwal: Chuckles in a Tilted Christian Boarding School Denzil Jayasinghe · B ack in Mutwal, I found myself in a Christian Brothers boarding school at the tender age on the cusp of puberty. Honestly, I was disoriented, not having a clue about the happenings around me. The beach adjacent to the school was my refuge, a much-needed spot to unwind. Which youngster doesn’t appreciate a good beach, eh? Navigating interactions with the older lads was a bit of a puzzle. It seemed like they were at sea, struggling to comprehend me and to be honest, I was just as clueless about engaging in banter with them. It felt like a conundrum as if we were all attempting to figure out where we fit in the grand scheme. Now, picture this: They were a whopping four years my senior. They had their exclusive clique, giving us young guns the cold shoulder. We were like invisible sidekicks, the Robin to their Batman. Then there were the blokes around my age, a year here and there. You know, the in-

  How I left a sleepy village A Voyage of Change and Miracles Denzil Jayasinghe · 1 In the serene village of Mudiyansegewatte, amidst the picturesque landscapes of Ceylon, my mother confronted me one day with a stern expression. “You are getting too wild in this place,” she declared, expressing concern and reproach. In my youthful defensiveness, I replied, “And go where?” Her suggestion was clear, offering both promise and uncertainty. “Go somewhere, Europe, because you spend too much time on the road here. Maybe London or Germany.” As her words lingered, a determined decision began to form within me — a departure from the familiar, a venture into the unknown. “I will take you to the parish priest.” She softened her tone. “God can perform miracles. But you must go from here. You are getting wild.” And so, the wheels of change were set in motion. The prospect of a journey beyond the boundaries of my sleepy village beckoned, guided by the wisdom of a concerned mother and the uncharted pa

  Annavi Seeya G ates, Games, and Divine Decibels Denzil Jayasinghe · In our neighbourhood, Annavi Seeya was the ultimate mystery man. His front gate was perpetually padlocked, and no one witnessed any comings or goings. Trying to enter? Good luck! His fence was a fortress, so tight that not even a chicken could sneak through. Every inch of his property was barricaded with sticks. Picture his house, and you’d see two dominating colours: white walls and brown tiles. Annavi Seeya and his wife, Annavi Achchie, inhabited this fortress-like dwelling alone. No kids, no grandkids. Annavi Seeya wasn’t exactly a child-friendly chap. He let his mangoes ripen and drop, untouched by sharing hands. Surplus coconuts? Nope, neighbours didn’t get a taste. If your cricket ball landed in Annavi Seeya’s vast yard, consider it lost in a no-ball zone. His gaze was fierce, those eyes penetrating. Even though we shared some distant family ties — he and my grandmother were cousins — he stared at me as if I ha

  Kudagama madness Damsels in the Devil’s Playground: A Neighbourhood Chronicle Denzil Jayasinghe · In my neighbourhood, young women seem to be going through some serious struggles, and I reckon it’s a mix of feeling lonely, boyfriendless, and dealing with bullying from their male family members. As you wander through Mudiyansegewatta and the neighbourhood in the evening, you stumble upon gatherings in the homes of these distressed women. Picture this: mothers huddled together, draped in crosses, and clutching rosaries like spiritual shields. The anguished screams of these tormented damsels echo through the air, painting a poignant picture of their pain and fear. Now, here’s where things take a twist: the young women are believed to be possessed by the devil. To remedy this, they engage in prayers and make regular pilgrimages to a Catholic shrine on Sunday to shake off that demonic influence. The hardcore Catholics love it, chanting about the greatness of their God. As night falls, the