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Category: Prose & poetry

Love and Banjaara

In 2014, the Romantic film convention faces a U-turn, as India once again give a new definition to love. The typical hero-heroine-villain triangle becomes a straight line, as “Ek Villain” becomes a blockbuster in the film history. And as it begins, we are immediately drawn with the opening lines of the film; “Every love story has a hero, heroine, and a villain. But this love story is of a villain”. How society changes Angels in to Demons, how no one is a born hero or a villain, but circumstantial in that is displayed in a moving tale. What drags...

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Citizenship

It is funny that your identity is Already defined once you were born Your race, Your country And your sexuality They are already determined But how would they know how you would become of? You belong to what you believe, Isn’t it? And how would anyone else know what you believe in.. You cross seas to become someone Trying to believe something new But can you really believe anything else, But what you already believed...

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Letter to Saint Nicolas

Dear, dear Santa, You must be very busy this month, rather from a couple of months before you must have been busy. What with half the world demanding all sorts of different gifts from you; no wonder if you threw up your hands in exasperation saying, “Oh yet another letter!!” I most certainly understand how frustrated you must be. So here’s the great revelation of my letter: I need no gift from you. This is not a demand on a certain steam boat, or talking doll or human-size teddy or a certain dress from a high-end designer. This is...

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A Man with Scars and an Empty Garage

The cobwebs have formed dusty clouds inside the garage. The garage is now a sanctuary for insects. The wheels of my car used to draw patterns on the grass path. Now the path is full of weeds. The dust carried by the breeze soiled my face and clothes. One of my hands rubbed my face. The skin of the scars on face felt rough to the fingers. My fingers searched for the unharmed soft skin in between the scars that were caused by the car accident. It must have been a cursed day… the day I bought my car....

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First Week at the University

Lilani’s Facebook wall is almost like an online diary. She is sharing her Facebook status with us, the status from the first week of her university life, the beginning of a new chapter in her life away from her hometown in Baddegama, Galle. 14/02/2017 වහිනකොට කොළොම්පුර, අහස සී සී කඩව, වැටෙන වැහි පොද බරව, වදින හිරිකඩ සැරයි. බලන්නට කොහෙවත්, දිය පාරවල් සැදුනු, පෙනෙන්නට නෑ උඩින්, කොන්ක්රිට් කුණු කානු. වැහි පොදට සිඹින්නට, තණ පළස් නෑ ඉතින්, උසම උස ගල් බිත්ති, හැම තැනම වටළලා. කොළොම්පුර මහ වැස්ස, කවුළුවෙන් රිංගලා, මතක ගෙන හද තෙමයි, ගමේ සුව කොයි කියා. 20/02/2017 A woman: No, she’s not your dice to roll on, not your coin to toss, not your pawn to bet. Neither a tool to use, nor an animal to toil for men. 21/02/2017 Ragging is just a reflection of the need for attention and dominance, which often ends up in the reverse, with distaste and disrespect. When a group of people organize themselves against a group of fellow people, in one way it is terrorism itself, where violence collaborates with discrimination. Where there is coexistence, there’s no need to demand attention or respect. Harmony creates it. However, what the majority or perhaps, a once-ragged minority believes is that suppression should cascade. Whereas it should not. A hurtful ragging season is not how you should promote equality. That’s what the August seniors of universities...

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