Denzil's Stories

  Crème House Sweets and Cravings Denzil Jayasinghe · S anath had faith in the gods, many deities and Buddha. That’s why he considered Crème House, his restaurant, a divine gift. He was at the vihara temple in Seeduwa every morning to thank them. He drove his noisy and shaky Tuk-Tuk back home, thoroughly enjoying the bumpy and chaotic ride. At home, he had a ritual: he splashed some yellow water on his face, a mixture of turmeric and holy water that he believed would protect him from evil and bring him good fortune. Then he wore his best clothes, a white shirt and black pants, and went to Crème House, his life’s work. Crème House was a two-storey building at a busy crossroads. It had large glass windows that made it look modern and splashy, but also exposed the dirt and dust that settled on them. It was open from dawn to dusk, serving customers various snacks, drinks, and fruit juice. He had employed a team of women to run the place, as he felt they were more reliable and hardworking t

  Christie’s Escape from the World Denzil Jayasinghe · C hristie had never tied the knot. Time was not kind to him, leaving his hairline to recede. His grand aunt fretted over his fate, fortune, and future spouse, urging him to settle down before it was too late. But Christie had devoted his life to educating rural children, using it as his escape and ruse to the family. He was not interested in any company, especially female. He only visited his sister on weekends when he could escape the solitude of his own room. Christie loved living alone and not speaking to anyone. His room in his sister’s house had its own entrance and a window facing the front yard with metal bars. He kept the window open but always locked the door behind him, avoiding his niece and nephew’s curious glances. Attending weddings, funerals, and events, he would reply to teasing relatives about his single status, saying, “My job as a teacher keeps me busy. I don’t have room for another commitment.” In his sister’s h

  Every house has a story Denzil built his first house in his early twenties. Denzil Jayasinghe · Let us get this out of the way. Did your parents give you money for your house? No, they didn’t. But the land was theirs, in fact, my grandmother’s. It was handed to me. How did you feel about becoming a landowner in your twenties? I had no notion or value of real estate. My family had small parcels of land and houses everywhere, which my parents and grandparents owned. Nobody talked about them, so I did not think much of them. They were just there, items on the sidelines with no special focus in our family’s core value system. So, how did you end up building a house at that age? Even before I started shaving, I got a big break to be in Dubai. Suddenly, I was earning thousands of dollars. My father, a great modeller of kids, knew that my money was best spent on a new house. He got my kid brother and me together he and talked to us about his plans for us. Then, the land was transferred to m

  The Unlikely Bride: Journey from the Nunnery to the Altar Denzil Jayasinghe · W ilma had renounced the world for God. She had forsaken her home and her kin and joined a convent in her youth. She had given herself prayer and penance and sought grace and redemption. But God had other plans for her. He cast her out of the convent, back to the world, to the place of her birth, where her parents lay in their graves, and her brother awaited her. Her brother, Stephan, had ambitions of becoming a big shot, a contractor with cash and clout, in Dalugama, a small town near Colombo. He was not happy to see his sister, who was now a burden to him. He wanted to get rid of her fast, to wed her off to someone who would take her off his hands. But who would fancy a woman of thirty who had wasted her best years in a convent under veils? Stephan was ready to pay a man a fortune to take his sister off his hands. But even then, he could not find a good match. Wilma was a plague on his life, his scheme of