The Price of Ten Rupees.
The Price of Ten Rupees Lessons in lending money Denzil Jayasinghe 5 min read · 5 days ago I had a friend once — Edward Gamini. A thin boy with quick eyes and a grin that disarmed even the sternest master. One hot afternoon, under the banyan tree behind our classroom, he asked if I could lend him ten rupees. Ten rupees. I can’t quite recall how I came by that money in 1970. Perhaps an uncle had slipped it into my hand during a visit, or maybe I’d found a few forgotten notes tucked in one of Father’s drawers. Whatever its origin, it seemed an immense fortune to a fourteen-year-old — enough to buy patties, cream buns, and bottles of orange barley at the school canteen for a week, or two, if I were careful. But boys at that age do not think of such things. Money is not yet sacred or serious; it is another thing one passes around, like a marble, a ball, or a secret. So I lent it to him, trusting that he would return it during the holidays. A month later, I rode my old Raleigh bicycle to hi...