Denzil's Stories

My friend Nimal I sat on the metal bar at the bus stand, reading my book, waiting for a bus after  work . This lad was standing on the other side of the bus stop with straight hair and a necklace. I had seen him in passing before. I recognised him as someone from my suburb. He smiled at me, and with that invitation, we started talking, me still sitting on the metal bar and him standing. He was Nimal, Nimal Ranatunga. A Route 132 bus heading to our hometown stopped at the bus stand a few minutes later. We got onto the bus, and Nimal paid for my bus ticket, the first move of a great friend-to-be. Sitting next to each other, we chatted throughout the bus ride. In the age of late teens, we were out to discover the world, and finding a like-minded buddy was a joy. We met at our monkey bar, the bus stand by chance. Chatting with each other, we found many common interests in music and fashion. We had common friends. Nimal was so cheerful that I connected with him on a meaningful level. Li...

Goodbye again — Part II of II I have had many goodbyes. Goodbyes to my family, friends, pets and places where I belonged once. My goodbyes have evoked both sadness and joy. Some resulted in temporary changes, and some were permanent. I came to terms with the changes, loneliness, and adventures my goodbyes invoked. Among them, I said goodbye to my parents, more than anyone else. That itself was a sweet blessing. Read Part I  of this two-part story first. A few months after I arrived in Dubai, I got a letter from  a close friend  in Sri Lanka. It carried devastating news that shocked me to the core. It was about my younger sister; she had eloped with a much older man. The news broke my heart. I had many hopes for my beautiful sister. It turned out that she had been manipulated into a clandestine affair with this man. At his behest, she had been forced into a marriage, that too as a minor at sixteen years, unknown to my family. The next day after she turned eighteen, she elo...