The right time, the right person

Rasika Jayakody, one of the more informed and articulate political activists of his generation with whom I don't always see eye-to-eye, having read with great interest Lakshman Piyasena’s biography of D B Jayatilaka (බාරොන්: මඟඇරුණු මඟ or ‘Baron: the pathway missed’) comes to an interesting conclusion: ‘When looking back the political history of Sri Lanka, I think that D.B. Jayatilleka is a right man who arrived at the wrong time.’

The right time, according to Rasika, would have been the moment of independence in 1948. The ‘man’ who did arrive was D.S. Senanayake. D.B. would have been the better ‘man.’ Rasika feels that the establishment of meritocracy would not have been shelved had it been D.B. and not D.S. That and many other things, I would add. This is not about all that.

It is about the right time and the right person. It is about ‘when’ and it is about ‘who.’  How can we ever determine ‘right time’ and can we ever figure out the ‘right person’? In hindsight, of course, but how could we ever know in the here and now ?

People often talk about events, leaders and moments as though it’s the one and only chance for redemption or glory. ‘When comes such another?’ That’s something we hear all the time.

We really don’t know enough, ever. That’s the problem. A recent example would be the massive protests that took place from March to July 2022. That was seen as ‘THE moment’ for radical transformation.

Notwithstanding agent provocateurs (of whom there were many, including agents of the notorious National Endowment for Democracy, the outfit to which the CIA’s overseas regime change/protection operations were transferred to and which even today offer training programs for self-labeled radicals/revolutionaries!), a sizeable number of citizens did in fact believe that the hour had come.

The man/woman was missing though. Taken as a metaphor, man/woman could mean some kind of potent collective endowed with vision and integrity. Didn’t really emerge from the circus it all turned out to be. Wasn’t even there in the first place, some might argue.

Was that a moment, though? Yes, some would say. A missed opportunity or as Lakshman would say, a මඟඇරුණු මඟක්. But how can we tell? How can we immunise ourselves from the romanticism that is often so much a part of speculation?

There’s nothing wrong in reflecting on things that happened, the moments that passed. Nothing wrong in assessing the true dimensions of ‘moment,’ i.e. moment stripped of rhetoric and other frills that are made for inflation. This is important because there will be other struggles, other moments which could very well be ‘The Moment’ and their arrivals may coincide with ‘THE person(s)/collective,’ making the right moment along with the right person as per Rasika’s formulation above.

We could work towards that moment. We could work towards creating the person/collective that shares the transformational signature of the moment.

That’s one way. There’s another. Hafiz of Shiraz, the 14th Century Persian Sufi poet, alluded to it in ‘The place where you are right now’:

This place where you are right now
God circled on a map for you.

An atheist who nevertheless loves the poetry of the Sufi mystics, I choose to focus on the ‘location’ indicated in these lines. This is where I am. This is THE moment, And, in all humility and intimately conscious of fallibility, ignorance and that rogue arrogance who slips surreptitiously into mind and heart, I say, ‘I AM the person with the moment’s signature.’

It’s easy to extrapolate. The time is now, and that’s the title of another poem by Hafiz, by the way. I am you and therefore we are one (that’s Jalāl al-Dīn Muḥammad Rūmī, the Sufi Mystic from Eastern Persia). We are DB, we are DS, we are both and neither. And there’s nothing to stop us from seizing this moment and forging from its many transformational metals a compassionate, egalitarian and just tomorrow that will resist all manner of bludgeoning.

Let us not waste time waiting for DB. Let us not waste time trying to be DB. There’s however a 23rd Century DB, if you want to put it that way, in all of us. There’s a 1948 that will emerge from the wings or rise from the immemorial poetry of revolution. Put another way, that 1948 is actually 2023 and if you want to be even more precise, it's the 23rd of May, 2023. Moment and time: they can meet upon an earth-stage that could be a ballot box, a barricade or systematic unlearning of heavily sugar-coated untruths about our lived reality and the futures that make sense to us.

I think I will meet Rasika Jayakody somewhere, sometime on that exhilarating platform. 

['The Morning Inspection' is the title of a column I wrote for the Daily News from 2009 to 2011, one article a day, Monday through Saturday. This is a new series. Links to previous articles in this new series are given below]

Other articles in this series:

The silent equivalent of a thousand words

Crazy cousins are besties for life

Unities, free and endearing

Free verse and the return key

"Sorry, Earth!"

The lost lyrics of Premakeerthi de Alwis

The revolution is the song

Consolation prizes in competitions no one ever wins

The day I won a Pulitzer

Ko?

Ella Deloria's silences

Blackness, whiteness and black-whiteness

Inscriptions: stubborn and erasable 

Thursday!

Deveni: a priceless one-word koan

Enlightening geometries

Let's meet at 'The Commons'

It all begins with a dot

Recovering run-on lines and lost punctuation

'Wetness' is not the preserve of the Dry Zone

On sweeping close to one's feet

Kumkum Fernando installs Sri Lanka in Coachella, California

To be an island like the Roberts...

Debts that can never be repaid in full

An island which no flood can overwhelm

Who really wrote 'Mother'?

A melody faint and yet not beyond hearing

Heart dances that cannot be choreographed

Remembering to forget and forgetting to remember

On loving, always

Authors are assassinated, readers are immortal

When you turn 80...

It is good to be conscious of nudities 

Saturday slides in after Monday and Sunday somersaults into Friday 

There's a one in a million and a one in ten

Gunadasa Kapuge is calling

Kumkum Fernando installs Sri Lanka in Coachella, California

Hemantha Gunawardena's signature

Pathways missed

Architectures of the demolished

The exotic lunacy of parting gifts

Who the heck do you think I am?

Those fascinating 'Chitra Katha'

The Mangala Sabhava

So how are things in Sri Lanka?

The most beautiful father

Palmam qui meruit ferat

The sweetest three-letter poem

Buddhangala Kamatahan

An Irish and Sri Lankan Hello

Teams, team-thinking, team-spirit and leadership

The songs we could sing in lifeboats when we are shipwrecked

Pure-Rathna, a class act

Jekhan Aruliah set a ball rolling in Jaffna

Awaiting arrivals unlike any other

Teachers and students sometimes reverse roles

Matters of honor and dignity

Yet another Mother's Day

A cockroach named 'Don't'

Colombo, Colombo, Colombo and so forth

The slowest road to Kumarigama, Ampara

Sweeping the clutter away

Some play music, others listen

Completing unfinished texts

Mind and hearts, loquacious and taciturn

I am at Jaga Food, where are you?

On separating the missing from the disappeared

Moments without tenses

And intangible republics will save the day (as they always have)

The world is made of waves

'Sentinelity'

The circuitous logic of Tony Muller

Rohana Kalyanaratne, an unforgettable 'Loku Aiya'

Mowgli, the Greatest Archaeologist

Figures and disfigurement, rocks and roses

Sujith Rathnayake and incarcerations imposed and embraced

Some stories are written on the covers themselves

A poetic enclave in the Republic of Literature

Landcapes of gone-time and going-time 

The best insurance against the loud and repeated lie

So what if the best flutes will not go to the best flautists?

There's dust and words awaiting us at crossroads and crosswords

The books of disquiet

A song of terraced paddy fields

Of ants, bridges and possibilities

From A through Aardvark to Zyzzyva 

World's End

Words, their potency, appropriation and abuse

Street corner stories

Who did not listen, who's not listening still?

The book of layering

If you remember Kobe, visit GOAT Mountain

The world is made for re-colouring

The gift and yoke of bastardy

The 'English Smile'

No 27, Dickman's Road, Colombo 5

Visual cartographers and cartography

Ithaca from a long ago and right now

Lessons written in invisible ink

The amazing quality of 'equal-kindness'

A tea-maker story seldom told

On academic activism

The interchangeability of light and darkness

Back to TRADITIONAL rice

Sisterhood: moments, just moments

Chess is my life and perhaps your too

Reflections on ownership and belonging

The integrity of Nadeesha Rajapaksha

Signatures in the seasons of love

To Maceo Martinet as he flies over rainbows

Sirith, like pirith, persist

Fragrances that will not be bottled 

Colours and textures of living heritage

Countries of the past, present and future

A degree in creative excuses

Books launched and not-yet-launched

The sunrise as viewed from sacred mountains

The ways of the lotus

Isaiah 58: 12-16 and the true meaning of grace

The age of Frederick Algernon Trotteville

Live and tell the tale as you will

Between struggle and cooperation

Of love and other intangibles

Neruda, Sekara and literary dimensions

The universe of smallness

Paul Christopher's heart of many chambers

Calmness gracefully cascades in the Dumbara Hills

Serendipitous amber rules the world

Continents of the heart

  

The allegory of the slow road 

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On Rasika Jayakody’s roadmap for the Opposition

What do Oppositions do? They oppose. Why do they 'oppose' in the first place? Well, they are supposed to keep governments on their toes, help keep things in line, point out flaws etc. In a nutshell, offer constructive criticism and, in the event that parliamentary majority and executive authority is abused, mobilize the people to mitigate.

In an ideal world, that is.

What happens, typically, is that the Opposition or rather the major player(S) in the Opposition allow the intention to capture power governs word and deed. Mountains are made of molehills, sand is thrown in the wheels, typically. Such has been the bread and butter of oppositional politics. Such has evolved into being the crux of oppositional culture.

It could be different of course but this would call for a complete rethink on the part of the Opposition. The Leader of the Opposition and the party he/she represents are ideally positioned to engineer a change in the culture of engagement but we haven’t seen anything of the sort from parties and politicians who have been in the opposition. Not in a very long time.

This is why a proposal by Rasika Jayakody warrants comment. Now Rasika is not an MP. He is a young and fresh entrant into the rough and tumble of party politics. He is affiliated with the youth wing of the Samagi Jana Balavegaya (SJB). He is, then, on the fringe. Therefore it wouldn’t be surprising if the so-called ‘seasoned’ seniors of the party pay little or no attention to what he has to say. Of course this is not a situation that’s uncommon and neither is it the preserve of political parties.

Juniors are expected to say little and listen more. They have to wait their turn. They have to work their way up the ranks before they are taken notice of. They have to put in the yards, so to speak. I would strongly urge the big boys and girls not just in the SJB but in the rest of the Opposition and the Government (who knows when one finds him/herself in the Opposition?) To take note.

Rasika Jayakody believes there are some non-negotiable tasks that need to be accomplished for the general betterment of the country and in particular the transformation of overall political culture. He calls the effort or rather the drivers of the effort ‘Sammuthiya Janatha Vyaparaya’ (The Covenant People’s Movement?).

There are six broad areas that he has identified in a recent Facebook post. First, he believes (as many others do) that the massive expenses that have to be incurred in running any election campaign is the root of the seemingly limitless corruption that has pervaded politics. The Movement advocates full disclosure of money spent on election campaigns.


The second element is related. A declaration of assets prior to the launch of any election campaign should be mandatory, they believe. Makes sense. Such declarations should take the form of an open document accessible by anyone and everyone. A political culture which has space for anyone to question the particular politician on such declarations should be created, they add. An end-of-term  declaration of assets could also be made mandatory.


Thirdly, the Movement calls for an absolute stop to attaching anything that enhances a politician’s public profile to any development project publicly funded. This cannot be just a call from an enlightened party leader, President or Prime Minister. Such moves help, but insistence on the part of the public can cement the issue. Laws can also be passed.

The fourth article in this document refers to a change in the way politics is done. The Movement envisages a future where intervention originates in and is driven by social movements instead of a system where party machinery that essentially serves big money and the ‘need’ to profit. It would be a tall order to revolutionize a party machinery to mainstream such an idea. Rasika correctly calls on civil society activists and professionals to take the lead. One hopes he is not thinking of the NGO racketeers dressed up as activists but are really just members of fronts designed to back certain political parties or agendas that have little to do with the national interest or the betterment of the entire population.
 
The fifth is about honorable citizenship. It’s a take from Gotabaya Rajapaksa’s recent call for ‘inclusive nationalism.’ That’s not very ‘UNP’ or ‘I/NGO’ but it is certainly an idea that doesn’t jar with the kinds of positions that the SJB has taken. The priority, Rasika says, should be marginalized groups. A ‘class frame’ is often neglected in such analysis. Let’s hope it is not marginalized.  

The final one is about decent, civilized engagement with political opponents. Nice words. Hard to enforce. However, a people’s movement could help create such an environment.

Rasika is a ‘marginal’ as of now. The ‘Movement’ is certainly not ‘mainstream.’ The power he wields and the movement he speaks for is modest. For now. 

That’s how things begin. Great things too. A fillip could come in the form of mainstreaming these ideas by the Opposition. The SJB can do it. The Sri Lanka Podujana Peramuna could do it. In fact if the party in power takes the lead, it could add to the massive edge it already enjoys. Obviously the compulsion would be less from that quarter but that again is something that could be seen as a lack that is best rectified.

In the end, it’s the people who have to underwrite such moves. This, then, is a small contribution. All power to Rasika Jayakody and his friends.

malindasenevi@gmail.com

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හැන්දෑව කවියට පෙරලන රසික

 අන්ධකාරයෙන් ආලෝකයට, ස්වප්නයෙන් යථාර්ථයට, අසත්‍යයෙන් සත්‍යයට. රැඩිකල්කම කියන්නේ මෙයින් කියවන දිශාවන් වෙත ගමන් කිරීමයි. එහෙම හිතන්න පුළුවන්. කැමති නම් 'උඩු ගං බලා' කියන එකත් එකතු කරන්න පුළුවන්. රැඩිකල් කියන්නේ ඇති බහුතරයක් දරන මතයට නැත්තම් ඇති බහුතරයකගේ ජීවිත භාවිතයට පටහැනි  කියල හිතන දේ කිරීමයි.

අරමුණ කුමක් වුවත් ප්‍රතිඵලය කුමක් වුවත් උඩු ගං බලා යෑම 'රැඩිකල්' කියල අර්ථකථනය වෙන්නේ එහෙමයි. රැඩිකල්කමත් උඩු ගං බලා යැමත් එකට තියලා අනුරුද්ධ ප්‍රදීප් කර්ණසූරිය අපූරු අදහසක් දැක්වුවා. ඒ රසික ජයකොඩි ගේ 'දවසක් දා හැන්දෑවක' එළිදක්වපු අවස්ථාවේ. අනුරුද්ධ කෙටි දේශනයක් කෙරුව.

'උඩු ගං බලා යන අය ගොඩාක් ඉන්නවා. ඒ පැත්තට ට්‍රැෆික් වැඩියි කියල මට හිතෙනවා. ඒ අතින් අනිත් පැත්තට යන එක මේ කාලේ රැඩිකල්කම කියලත් හිතෙනවා.'

අනුරුද්ධ රසිකගේ ලිපි ගැන ඒ වගේ අදහසක් තමයි සඳහන් කෙරුවේ. රසික රැඩිකල් කියනවා නෙවෙයි. ඒත් ගැඹුරු දාර්ශනික කරුණු බරසාර විදිහට කියන්න යන්නේ නැතුව සරල සාමාන්‍ය උදාහරණ හරහා සරල සාමාන්‍ය බසින් ඉදිරිපත් කරන එකත් එක්තරා ආකාරයකට රැඩිකල්කමක්. අනුරුද්ධගේ අදහස එයයි.

උඩු ගං බලා යෑම එකක්. 'උඩු ගං බලා යනවෝ' කියල ඇඩ් දාන එක තව එකක්. වැදගත් වෙන්නේ අරමුණ ද, ඇඩ් එකද? මේ වගේ ප්‍රශ්නත් අහන්න පුළුවන්.

දිශාව හරිම වැදගත. අරමුණ නැත්තම් ගමනාන්තයත් වැදගත්. හරි ගඟ තෝරාගැනීමත් වැදගත්. උතුර දකුණ පැටලුනොත් උඩු ගං යනවා කියල හිතාගෙන මූදටම ඇදිල යන්න පුළුවන්.

රැඩිකල් සෙට් එකම උඩු ගං බලා යනවා නම් අර අනුරුද්ධ කියන විදිහට ඒ පැත්තට ට්‍රැෆික් වැඩියි. යන්න අමාරු වෙන්නේ උඩු ගං බලා යන නිසාම නෙවෙයි. ට්‍රැෆික් නිසා. රැඩිකල් අය සහ රැඩිකල් කියල හිතාගෙන ඉන්න අය වෙන් කරලා හඳුනාගන්නත් අමාරු වෙනවා. ඒකත් ප්‍රශ්නයක් වෙන්න පුළුවන්. එහෙම බලනකොට ඇත්තටම උඩු ගං බලා යන්නේ කව්ද?  සැරසිලි සහිත නැත්තම් මෝස්‌තර රැඩිකල්කම බහුල නම් එය තුල රැඩිකල්කම්වල පැවැත්ම මොන වගේද? එහෙම වුනා කියල උඩු ගං බලා යෑම බැහැර කරන්නම අවශ්‍යද?

මේ එකකටවත් සරල උත්තර නැහැ. මෝස්‌තර නරක නැහැ. රැඩිකල්කම නරකත් නැහැ. උඩු ගං බලා යන එකේ වරදකුත් නැහැ. අවසානයේ වැදගත් වෙන්නේ අවිද්‍යාවෙන් විද්‍යාවට ගමන් කෙරුවද කියන එක. යථාර්තයක් හමු වුනා ද නැද්ද කියන එක. අන්ධකාරය තුල වුනත් ආලෝකයක් මතු කරගන්න පුළුවන් වුනාද කියන එක. මොන දිශාවක් තොරගත්තත්, මොන ඇඳුමින් සැරසුනත්, ඇඩ් දැම්මත් නැතත්, කාටවත් කීවත් නොකිව්වත් කුමන හෝ මොහොතක තමන්ට තමන් මුණ ගැසුනද නැද්ද කියන එක හරිම වැදගත් කියල හිතෙනවා. ඒ හමුවන කෙනාව අඳුනගන්න පුළුවන් වුනාද නැද්ද, තමන්ට හමුවූ තමන්ගේ හම සහ තමන් පොරවගත්ත හැම එකක්මද, වෙනස් ද කියන එක වැදගත්. එතනත් රැඩිකල්කම ප්‍රශ්න වෙනවා. එතනත් රැඩිකල් වෙන්න පුළුවන්. පට්ට විදිහට.

'රැඩිකල්' අයටත් රැඩිකල් නොවන අයටත් ඒ වගේ අවස්ථාවලට මුහුණ දෙන්න වෙනවා. එතකොට තමන් රැඩිකල්ද නැද්ද කියල හඳුනා ගන්න පුළුවන්.

රසිකගේ පොත එළිදක්වන උත්සවයේ අවසාන කතාව කෙරුවේ ෂෙනාල් ගුණසේකර. ෂෙනාල් දන්නා රසිකාව ෂෙනාල්ට පොතේ මුණගැසුනේ නැහැ කියල කිව්වා. එතකොට සැබෑ රසික කව්ද කියන ප්‍රශ්නේ මතුවෙනවා. රසිකලා කී දෙනෙක් ඉන්නවද කියලත් හිතන්න වෙනවා. සැබෑ රසික ඉන්නේ කොහෙද -- දේශපාලන වේදිකාවේද, ෆේස්බුක් එකේද, රසිකගේ රචනාවලද, වෙන කොහේ හරි ද?

ඒ එක ප්‍රශ්නයක්වත් වැදගත් වෙන්නේ නැහැ. රසිකට වැදගත් වෙන්නේ රසික ඉන්න තැන රසික නිශ්චිතවම දැන ගැනීම පමණයි. රසික ඉන්නේ කොහෙද, කොහෙද නැත්තේ කියන එක අපට වැදගත් වෙන්නේ නැහැ. රසික අපට අප ඉන්න තැන තේරුම් ගන්න ප්‍රවේශයක් නිර්මාණය කරලා දීලා තියෙනවා නම්, ඒකෙ දෙයක් තියෙනවා.

රසිකටත් අපටත්, රැඩිකල් අයටත්, රැඩිකල් නොවන අයටත් යන්න තැන් තියෙනවා. ඉන්න තැන් තියෙනවා. ඇතැම් විට ට්‍රැෆික් වල හිරවෙනවා. ඇතැම් විට ට්‍රැෆික් නැතත් නවතින්න වෙනවා. පෙට්‍රල් ඉවර වුන නිසා. නැත්තම් 'යන්නේ කොහෙද, මොනවටද?' වගේ ප්‍රශ්න අපව නවත්තන නිසා.

ගමන් කරමින් හිටියත් අඟලක්වත් හෙල්ලුනේ නෑ වගේ දැනෙන අවස්ථා තියෙනවා. එක තැනම හිටියත් බොහෝ දුර ගියා වගේ දැනෙන අවස්ථා නැත්තෙමත් නැහැ. ඉතින් රසික ගැන මට දැනෙන දේ ලියල මේක අවසන් කරන්නම්: වැඩිය මහන්සි නොවී, කලබල නොවී, වැඩිය රස්තියාදු ගහන්නේ නැතුව රස්තියාදුවම කවියකට පෙරළලා ලියන උඩු ගං බලා යන්න කිසිම උවමනාවක් නොදක්වා සහ නොදක්වන නිසාම උඩු ගං බලා යන, ඇඩ් දාන්නේ නැති නිසාම බ්‍රෑන්ඩ් එකක් වෙමින් පවතින පට්ට රැඩිකල් පොරක්.  

 

ALSO READ: A dusk song for Rasika Jayakody

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A dusk song for Rasika Jayakody

Rasika Jayakody is one of the finest writers of his generation. His Sinhala prose is exquisite. So too his poetry, both in Sinhala and English. Rasika launched his first book last Saturday (January 25). It is collection of articles — mostly what he had written for the now defunct ‘Rivira’ newspaper between 2007 and 2001 and some from his contributions to ‘Irudina’ (defunct as well). He titled it ‘Dawasak daa haendaewaka’ or ‘Reflections at Dusk.’  

As one of the speakers at the launch, Anuruddha Pradeep Karnasuriya, put it, the most compelling aspect of the collection is Rasika’s ability to script in deep philosophical matters upon the architecture of the everyday. His gaze pauses at things and processes that rarely stop most of us. He draws from then insights that don’t shout out, ‘here I am, come write me!’ 

The book will delight. Let me stop there without spoiling potential reading. 

This is about something else that Anuruddha said. During his short speech he briefly spoke on radicals and radicalism. Drawing from the Buddhist parable of the bowl moving upstream, Anuruddha made an interesting observation which I will paraphrase as follows: 

‘Udu gan balaa (deliberately going upstream or ‘swimming against the current’) has become so fashionable that there’s way too much traffic in that direction. It seems to me that the radical thing to do is to go downstream.’  

Rasika, he believes, is radical simply because he goes with the flow. He perceives things as they are, doesn’t scream and shout, stops when he has to, skirts the cataracts and gets to his destination. 

There’s another element to all this. There are upstreams and upstreams. You can name waterways and destinations. You can imagine non-existent currents. You can make everything sexy. You can swim with a crowd or swim alone. You can advertise the decision. There are lots of frills available and you can dress yourself as you wish. It might work. It might not. In the end you have to decide which way to swim, you have to figure out if you need an entourage, you have to ask yourself if advertising the fact of swimming and direction chosen is useful or not. Of course there could be some in the herd who are not conscious of company, care little about frills and go about the business of swimming without much fanfare. I feel they would constitute the exception. 

Anyway, does this make the person who resists the herd instinct or goes about things quietly a radical? Well, if ‘radical’ is doing what’s unusual, then yes. On the other hand, there could be lots doing ‘A Rasika’. There could be traffic in that direction as well. Then there’s the possibility that the Rasikas have chosen poorly when taking the plunge or wading in as the case may be.  

I believe Anuruddha was not talking of an entire population, but a segment that is fascinated with ‘the radical’. Typically it is not always those who would principally benefit from ‘radical change’ who are ‘radical’ and advertise the fact. It’s the ‘do gooders’. It’s not that they are in want, but they feel for those who are, or rather say they do. There’s nothing wrong in taking up someone else’s battles. There’s nothing wrong in marketing the particular project. There is however the danger of the need to market displacing the act(s) of objection and/or the revolutionary project.

Since we are talking waterways, quests and words, perhaps it would be good to end with a literary reference. Herman Hesse’s ‘Siddhartha.’ Siddhartha is the main protagonist. Govinda is a friend, a shadow in contrast to the shining Siddhartha. It’s Siddhartha’s story. Govinda is like an alter ego. It’s Siddhartha who picks ‘upstream’. They part ways. There’s resolution at the end of the story. Interestingly, upon a river and a raft. 

Labels. They are dangerous sometimes. Fixation with labels can detract and we can err in direction and destination. Such things come to us now and again. When they arrive at dusk, they are more poetic. Poets can write the moments. Rasika has.

This article was first published in the DAILY NEWS [January 27, 2020]

malindasenevi@gmail.com

Other articles in the series 'In Passing...': 

[published in the 'Daily News' on Monday, Wednesday and Friday every week]

How about creating some history?

How far away are the faraway places?

There ARE good people!

Re-placing people in the story of schooldays 

When we stop, we can begin to learn

Routine and pattern can checkmate poetry

Janani Amanda Umandi threw a b'day party for her father 

Sriyani and her serendipity shop

Forget constellations and the names of oceans

Where's your 'One, Galle Face'?

Maps as wrapping paper, roads as ribbons

Yasaratne, the gentle giant of Divulgane

Katharagama and Athara Maga
Victories are made by assists
Lost and found between weaver and weave
The Dhammapada and word-intricacies
S.A. Dissanayake taught children to walk in the clouds
White is a color we forget too often
The most beautiful road is yet to meet a cartographer

The Eldest: a story written on face and in eyes

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