Denzil's Stories

  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 uncharte...

  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 ...

  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,...

  Sebastian and Lucy. The Veil of Neighbourly Strife Denzil Jayasinghe · I couldn’t stand Sebastian, the acolyte in our local church, with a smirky smile but full of hate for the neighbours. Sebastian wasn’t very tall and liked wearing his fancy Sunday coat. His grey hair made him look harmless, a do-gooder, and his small size made him seem even less threatening. The worst part was that he lived right next door on our left, and his wife, Lucy, was just as wicked. Lucy always stood in the front row at church with her white veil, trying to show everyone how holy she was. Sebastian and Lucy had five daughters and one son. The oldest daughter became a nun, a big deal in our super Catholic neighbourhood. Their only son, Damian, was like the prince of the family. He helped in church ceremonies, proudly holding the flag and assisting with the church altar. Damian even volunteered to distribute the Catholic weekly newspaper to show their dedication to the faith. On Sundays, Sebastian led t...