Denzil's Stories

Lewis and Denzil Memories of a grandfather W hen I was three years old, I flew in an aeroplane with my parents and Lewis, my pappa, and my maternal grandfather. It was a domestic flight to the Gal Oya in eastern Sri Lanka. Pappa sat beside me on the Air Ceylon flight, helping to seat me on the window seat. He put the small seat belt on me and helped me to put on my cotton earplugs. During the flight, he showed me the ground below, a breathtaking sight for a toddler. I felt like a bird flying up in the air in his presence. We stayed in a government bungalow in the middle of a jungle for a few days at Gal Oya. Then, during a safari to see wild elephants, I sat on my grandfather’s lap, enjoying bumpy rides in a rickety lorry. Domestic aircraft of Air Ceylon Back at home, my pappa lived in his own home, some six kilometres away. He visited us regularly, travelling in a hired black Hillman Minx car with my mother’s only sister Catherine and a driver. Pappa dressed elegantly in light tweed c...

Lewis is no more It was evening. The sun had set. I sat near my father, chatting with him, with glee. My mother was quiet, in a corner away from us. She was working alone on the sewing machine. So innocent and curious as I was as a six-year-old, I asked my father why my mother would not join us. Father took his time to answer me. Then, he suggested I reach out to my mother and ask her to join us. Taking on that child’s mission, I ran to my mother and stood near the sewing machine. I asked her to join us. She did not look at me and continued to sew, not answering my invitation to join. It was strange for her to ignore me. I kept prodding while she was trying to cover her face. Finally, I got closer to her, hoping to evoke a positive reaction. Close up to her now; I now saw my mother’s face from the light of the oil lamp. Tears were flowing down her cheeks. I was stunned. Feeling dejected and sad, I returned to my father, telling him that my mother was in tears. Father listened to me, ho...