Denzil's Stories

Denzil Jayasinghe 6 min read This is a poignant story set in 1967 Ceylon, focusing on a humble laundry run by two brothers, Victor and Piyadasa. The narrative revolves around a young boy who is captivated by the meticulous work of the laundry brothers, especially Piyadasa, who uses a traditional charcoal-heated iron to press clothes. While the brothers worry about the future of their craft, the boy finds solace and meaning in the personal touch and care they provide, which machines cannot replicate. The story emphasizes the importance of tradition, craftsmanship, and human connection in a world undergoing rapid change. It uses the metaphor of the ironing process to represent the transformation and shaping of a community, highlighting the enduring value of human touch and the power of personal connections in a changing world. In the languid sleepy village of Dalugama, just seven miles northeast of Colombo, life moved at the pace of the warm breeze that rustled through the coconut palms.

  The Mysterious Postcard Denzil Jayasinghe 2 min read A lone postcard, a solitary missive amidst a sea of envelopes, arrived on my doorstep one crisp morning. Its unassuming exterior belied the intrigue that awaited within. The sender, Brother Jerome, my boarding master, had inscribed the message in a language that was as unfamiliar to me as the distant starlit sky. Intricate calligraphy, written in a hand that seemed almost too small to be human, covered the back of the card. The word “RECIPROCATING” stood out, its ornate flourish adding a touch of mystery to the otherwise ordinary greeting. The phrase “reciprocating your kind greetings” was also present, but in a language I couldn’t decipher. The postcard itself was a generic Christmas greeting, wishing a “Merry Christmas and a prosperous New Year.” I understood “prosperous,” a word commonly used to denote a successful year ahead. But “reciprocating,” written with such precision and care, piqued my curiosity. Why had Brother Jerome

  The Words I Never Spoke: A Eulogy for My Father, twenty-two years later Denzil Jayasinghe 4 min read When my father passed away in Sri Lanka, I found myself unable to deliver a eulogy. Despite having spent a few years there as an adult, I was ill-equipped — both emotionally and culturally — to honour him properly. After living abroad for over twenty-five years, Sri Lankan customs had become unfamiliar to me. At the time, overwhelmed by grief and disconnected from my roots, I couldn’t find the words. Now, twenty-two years later, I’m finally ready to articulate what I wish I could have said on that solemn day. L adies and Gentlemen, esteemed religious leaders, Today, I stand before you with a heart heavy with grief, yet filled with gratitude for every one of you who has come to bid farewell to my father. In this profoundly sad moment, I want to extend my deepest thanks to all those who assisted in the final rites, to the relatives and friends who surrounded us, and to every family memb