Pink Elephants

මිනිස්සු

2015-04-08T13:31:00.001+05:30

නොදන්නා කරුම වල විපාක විඳ විඳ,

ඉන්න කල්ම නොවිඳි සැප හොයන,

හිටි හැටියේ නොකියාම සමුගන්න,

සංසාර නාටකයේ රූකඩ.

ඇගේ වෛරය

2015-02-03T21:49:00.000+05:30

ඉඩෝරයට වට වැසි පොදක් වන්නට

ඒ වැස්සෙන් පනනළ රකින්නට

ඈ පිට වුනා වැලි කතරට

පිපාසයට දිය සොයන්නට

එහි වූ සුල්තානොත්තම මන්දිරය

ඉදිරිපිට නැවතී ඇය

සෙවුවා පිහිටක්

පපු තුල දුක් ගිනි නිවන්නට

දර දිය ඇදපන්!

බැල මෙහෙවර කරපන්!

සිටුතුමෝ රැකපන්

දිය ඕනෑ නම්

ඈගෙ දරු මතක් වී

ළය ගිනිදැල් ඇවිලී

උණු කඳුළින් දෑත් තෙත් වෙද්දී

ඈ තනිව හැඬුවා, මූසල රෑ ගෙවෙද්දී

වියැකෙනතුරු ඇගේ තුරුනු රුව

රළු වනතුරු මුදු දෑත

දස වසක් ගෙවෙන තුරු

මෙහෙවර ඇය දිය ලැබෙන තුරු

කොට දස වසක් බැලමෙහෙවර,

ලැබුනු දිය පොද රැගෙන

වැලි කතර මැඩගෙන

ඇය ගියා දරු සොයාගෙන

යන විට ඇය ගෙදර

සිටියා ඇගේ පුරුෂ රත්නය

දොරකඩ වෑටීගෙන

කට ගොන්නක් බීගෙන

"කොහෙද මූසලී තෝ ලැගහිටියේ?!"

තෝ මකබෑවුනා කියලයි මං උන්නෙ!

අහවල් එහෙකටද රා කලය ගත්තේ?

පීරී තිබුනු රා ටික ඇයි මේකෙ නැත්තේ?!"

"මගේ කරුමෙටයි තොට මම රැවටුනේ

පවුල රකින්නයි කතරේ දුක් වින්දේ

එහෙවු මට තෝ මෙහෙමද සලකන්නේ?"

රා නෙවේ තොට මම වහ කදුරු දෙන්නේ!"

විඩාබර මගේ හිත

2015-01-09T23:22:00.001+05:30

වේදනාව සිරකර

ඒ විලාපය නෑසෙන පරිදි

අගුළු ලෑවෙමි

චිත්ත ස්කන්ධයට

හද පත්ළේ ඒ වේදනාව

විළි රුදාවෙන් කෑගසන විට

බිහිරෙකු වූවෙමි

එම ශෝකාලාපයට

මිතුරන්ට මැදිවුනද

තනිකම රජයනකල

වටහා ගත්තෙමි

මා තනිවී බව

කියන්නට වෙර දැරුවත්

වැටහෙන කිසිවෙක් නොවූ කල

තනිවම අස්වසා ගත්තෙමි

මගේ දුබල හිත

කම්මැලියාගේ පාපොච්චාරණය

2014-09-06T18:05:00.001+05:30

එක්විසි අවුරුද්දක්
ගල් බොරළු මාවත් මතින්
වැටි වැටි නැගිටිමින්
ඇවිද ආවත් මං,
මදකට නැවතෙමින්
ආපසු හැරී බැලු කල්
ආ මග කෙටි බැවුත්
යා යුතු මග දුර බැවුත්
දුටුවා සුසුම් හෙළමින්,
තවමත් නැවතී
අන් අය මා පසු කරමින්
ඉදිරියටම යන සැටි
බලාගෙන හිටියත්
මට මහන්සී දැන්,
"බාධක පරයමින්
නොනවතී ඉදිරියට
යන්නට සිතට දිරි ගන්"
කීවත් මා මිතුරන්
නැවත අරඹන්නට ගමන්
මට ශක්තියක් නෑ දැන්,
සමහරෙක් මා පසු කරමින්
සමච්චලයට හිනැහෙමින්
"ආන් දුබලයක්!"
ඇසුනත් එවදන්
නෑසුනා ක් මෙන්
තවමත් එතනමයි මං,
දිගු වැඩි නොවෙද මේ මග?
අවසන කරා යන්නෝ තුටු වෙත්ද?
අවසන යනු ඇරඹුමම බව
ඔවුහු නොදත්ද?
කම්මැලියෙකුව මග නැවතුනු
මම නරුමයෙක්ද?

වැරදුනු තැන

2014-06-13T20:20:00.000+05:30

මොකද්ද ළමයෝ මේකේ තේරුම?

ගෙදර එන්නෙ හැමදාම

මහ රෑ ජාමෙට

කෑමක්වත් බීමක්වත් නෑනෙ හරියකට

එහෙම තමයි අම්මේ රස්සා කරනකොට

වැඩ ක්නදරාව ගොඩ ගැහෙනකොට

මහන්සියෙන් තොර දියුණුවක් නැතිකොට

ඉවසමු අම්මේ අපි, යන මග තව දුර කොට

අනේ අපිත් නොකරපු රස්සා

කියයි අම්මා මා නොරුස්සා

දියුණුවේ හිනිපෙත්තට නැග යුතු හන්දා

රස්සාවට යමි හීන හිත රන්දා

කාලයත් ගෙවිලා කාටත් නොදැනීම

ඒත් ඉවර නෑනෙ දිවිල්ල තවම

හැරිලා බලන්නවත් කාලයක් නැති අරුම

හිතාගන්න බෑ මට වැරදිච්ච තැන

Despondent

2014-06-05T18:26:00.000+05:30

I continue to dream,

And follow the dim light of stars,
Convincing myself,

That everything will fall in place,
And there is still hope,

I tell myself,

Every dark cloud has a silver lining,

I have to be stronger, braver;

For there will be more rocks

Along this path,

I have to let it go,

For the melancholia is temporal,

But then so is bliss,

So is success,

So is fame,

You will never be content,
No matter the gain,
No matter the victory,

There is no end

To the corporate ladder,
Because,

The sea only appears

To unite with the sky
At the horizon.

Pic: Courtesy of the internet

Sarah Kay: If I should have a daughter ...

2014-04-16T22:27:00.001+05:30

Inspiration beyond words or metaphors....
Also, if I ever have a daughter, I am going to recite this to her.

If I should have a daughter

If I should have a daughter, instead of Mom, she's gonna call me Point B,
because that way she knows that no matter what happens,
at least she can always find her way to me.
And I'm going to paint solar systems on the backs of her hands,
so she has to learn the entire universe before she can say,
"Oh, I know that like the back of my hand."
And she's going to learn that this life will hit you hard in the face,
wait for you to get back up just so it can kick you in the stomach.
But getting the wind knocked out of you is the only way to remind your lungs how much they like the taste of air.
There is hurt here that cannot be fixed by Band-Aids or poetry.
So the first time she realizes that Wonder Woman isn't coming,
I'll make sure she knows she doesn't have to wear the cape all by herself.
Because no matter how wide you stretch your fingers,
your hands will always be too small to catch all the pain you want to heal. Believe me, I've tried.
"And, baby," I'll tell her, "don't keep your nose up in the air like that.
I know that trick; I've done it a million times.
You're just smelling for smoke so you can follow the trail back to a burning house,
so you can find the boy who lost everything in the fire to see if you can save him.
Or else find the boy who lit the fire in the first place,
to see if you can change him."
But I know she will anyway, so instead I'll always keep an extra supply of chocolate and rain boots nearby,
because there is no heartbreak that chocolate can't fix.
Okay, there's a few heartbreaks that chocolate can't fix.
But that's what the rain boots are for.
Because rain will wash away everything, if you let it.
I want her to look at the world through the underside of a glass-bottom boat, to look through a microscope at the galaxies that exist on the pinpoint of a human mind, because that's the way my mom taught me.
That there'll be days like this.
♫ There'll be days like this, my momma said. ♫
When you open your hands to catch and wind up with only blisters and bruises;
when you step out of the phone booth and try to fly and the very people you want to save are the ones standing on your cape;
when your boots will fill with rain,
and you'll be up to your knees in disappointment.
And those are the very days you have all the more reason to say thank you.
Because there's nothing more beautiful than the way the ocean refuses to stop kissing the shoreline, no matter how many times it's sent away.
You will put the wind in winsome, lose some.
You will put the star in starting over, and over.
And no matter how many land mines erupt in a minute, be sure your mind lands on the beauty of this funny place called life.
And yes, on a scale from one to over-trusting, I am pretty damn naive.
But I want her to know that this world is made out of sugar.
It can crumble so easily,
but don't be afraid to stick your tongue out and taste it.
"Baby," I'll tell her, "remember, your momma is a worrier, and your poppa is a warrior, and you are the girl with small hands and big eyes who never stops asking for more."
Remember that good things come in threes and so do bad things.
And always apologize when you've done something wrong.
But don't you ever apologize for the way your eyes refuse to stop shining.
Your voice is small, but don't ever stop singing.
And when they finally hand you heartache,
when they slip war and hatred under your door and offer you handouts on street-corners of cynicism and defeat,
you tell them that they really ought to meet your mother.

When life throws shit at you....

2014-03-15T23:44:00.000+05:30

I don't know what this is—I don't know if this is a poem or prose or a bunch of worthless ramblings. It was just spontaneous. While journeying on to pursuit happiness, you will most definitely encounter countless set backs and hard falls. But, always believe in yourself and have faith and know that one day, you too will make it.

When life throws shit at you,

Throw it back,

Or clean it with toilet paper,

Or drown in it and make a fool of yourself,

Make the saner choice,

When you fall hard,

And you think you have lost

All the strength to get up,

Know that,

That is when you are at your strongest,

When nothing goes right,

And there are blisters,

Every step of the way

To sore you,

Just keep running,

When the whole world is against you,

You are blamed

And Pulled down,

Get back up and,

Walk against the force,

When you are in the depth of sadness,

Look for that little silver lining,

And that last ray of hope,

Just take a deep breath
And be strong.

Excursion to the heart of southern Sri Lanka

2014-02-14T23:53:00.002+05:30

In Galle Fort, time doesn't pass by (at least that is what I felt during my visit). The Fort or the old rampart has a unique beauty to it. The colonial architecture, still elegant in its form adds an aesthetic aura to the atmosphere around. Wandering in and around the Galle Fort made me reminisce how the city's beauty have been described in some of the books I read. And this is Galle Fort, from my third eye (Tried my best to do justice to capture the beauty of the grandeur city).

An entrance to the Galle Fort

Tourists enjoying the bliss of sea bathing on a sunny Tuesday afternoon

Picturesque view of the ocean from the rampart

The age old Galle Lighthouse, built in 1938

For the love of antiquities

Where the post office of the Galle Fort is housed today

Bet these would have many interesting stories in them. Old files from a deserted Notary's office.

Wandering around the streets of Galle

The grand edifice of the All Saint's Church, Galle Fort

Colours :)

Where the wounded will find solace

Along the paradise beaches of the 'teardrop of the Indian Ocean'

Tidal Wave

2014-01-28T17:24:00.003+05:30

An old verse written on December 26, 2013 to be precise. It was the ninth year commemoration of Tsunami victims. I was seated at my computer at work, staring at the replaying images on the TV. Melancholic music was playing in the background as flashbacks of the disaster flashed upon the screen—vivid and bright—reminding me of what a tragedy it had been. This is not my story, but I think many out there will be able to relate to this.

It has been nine years,

Since I last went to the beach,

Since I last held myself

to the sea breeze,

It has been nine years,

Since I walked along the sandy shores,

Holding his hand,

Whispering to each other,

It has been nine years,

Since I made sand castles,

And indulged in the bliss,

Of my son's innocent smile,

It has been nine years,

Since the tidal wave

Stole my life,

On a bright sunny morning.

Pictures- courtesy of the internet

The glory that was lost in history—journey to Seethawaka

2013-12-26T12:46:00.000+05:30

The year was 1593. King Rajasinghe I, tempestuous by the defeat he had just faced with Konappu Bandara (later King Wimaladharmasuriya I) was on his way to the royal palace when he stopped to take a rest at the Pethangoda Royal Park. The thoughts of rebellions in the up country haunted him as he was taking steps in a melancholic sway. Exactly four centuries later, there we were standing on the very ground, beside the remains of what was once a glorious royal park with panoramic views of the grandeur landscape, geared up to begin our journey to explore the glorious history of the Seethawaka Kingdom.

After a jarring ride on the uneven road, we got to ‘Pethangoda Bamboo Trees’ only remains of the pleasance, where two thick bamboo groves build an archway bringing a mysterious yet forlorn shade to the vicinity. According to the historical legend it is said that a splinter from this which pierced into the king’s foot turned fatal thus making it the place where the great warrior left his final mark. There is however another chronicle that the king’s demise was due to a cobra bite.

Pethangoda BambooTrees (Katu Una)

Having completed years of research about the Kingdom of Seethawa, it is the conception of K. P. Yasapala, co-author of ‘Seethewaka Pura Yugaya’ and a dedicated historian that the king’s demise was in fact due to a cobra bite which occurred at the same venue. “The narrative of the bamboo splinter is a cover up to hide the real reason since it was conspiracy executed by ‘Dodampe Ganithaya’—an astrologer of the castle to assassinate the king,” He further explained that horse manure and cow dung was kept on the wound to fasten the spread of the venom thus resulting the death of King Rajasighe I.

Bidding farewell to the pleasance, our next stop was the dwelling of ‘King of Lions” (Rajasinghe) identified at Bandarawaththa along Awissawella- Panawala road. Part of the land today, houses the Regional Archeology Office of Awissawella. Minuscule moulds of the solid historic Sri Lankan architecture have begun to surface with temporarily halted excavations due to bad weather. The scenery of the site waiting for its secrets lost in history and time, to be unraveled was extremely blissful with its labels and marked grounds of excavation.

Under the remains of the Dutch Fort, ruins of elements of the Sinhalese constructions lied subtly paving way for the revelation of the former splendor of the royal palace. Officials in charge of the excavation, Janaki Biyanwila and H. M. S. K. Eragama walked us through the site explaining the significance of the excavated ground. “We assume that this is the location of the royal palace on the basis of the discovery of remains of Sinhalese constructions underneath the constructions of the fort” said Mr. Eragama explaining, the Portuguese had built the fort using remains of the palace.

Mr. Eragama further pointed out that the location made an ideal site for the palace concerning the geographical situation of the site where it could get a clear vista of the surrounding. Thus it provides security and the Dutch could not have selected a better place. “They simply destroyed the palace and built their fort over it using bricks and ruins of the palace” he added.

Overlooking the beautiful river of Seethawaka, situated on top of an isolated hill on Awissawella- Ginigathhena road, are the handsome ruins of the Barandi Kovil. Executing elaborated stone carvings of floral designs and bahirawa images on three exquisite stone platforms. The marvelously carved water spout depicts the expertise of the craftsman.

Barandi Kovil

Intricate stone carvings

The kovil was built at the behest of Aritta Kevidu Perumal, an astrologer and an adviser to the king, explained Mr. Yasapala. “Having allegedly committed the fratricidal sin of murdering his father, it is said in the legend that, he was advised by Arritta Kevindu Perumal to build the kovil as an appeasement” he added. The playful breeze running through the pillars of the fine stone structure swayed on and off so as to narrate what it has seen over the history.

As Mr. Yasapala explained, the narrative of Medagoda Paththini Devalaya begins with the onset of a miracle. King Rajasinhe I on his way to Pethangoda in a canoe along Kelani River was taken aback when Manamgolla-the steerer found it impossible to steer it upwards the river. He then asked Manamgolla to inspect what was keeping the canoe from moving, who failed to find a reason. This compelled the king to derive the conclusion that this is a result of a miracle and immediately took measures to deploy troops to explore the area where they found ruins of a Hindu shrine amidst the thick greenery of the forest layer. “It is said that the canoe started moving again once the king had made a vow at the shrine” he added.

Remnants of the majesty that was formerly depicted through the edifice were still visible through elements of quondam architecture.

In 1482, King Rajasinhe restored the shrine and dedicated it to the Goddess Paththini while authorizing the provision of over 600 acres of land to the devalaya. The cannon gifted to the devalaya by the king is still used today at the annual perehara festival (procession).

Today, women expecting children come to this shrine to pay homage to Paththini Maniyo and be blessed and to pray for the health and well being of their children.

While the area was beginning to gloom with the shade of twilight, we visited a place famed for its tragic history. The Department of Archeology says that it could either be the tomb of King Rajasinge or that of his viceroy in Kandy, Weerasundara Bandara.

It can not be the tomb of the king since there was a separate burial ground for royal and the old route to Kandy ran through this place, explained Mr. Yasapala relating the part of the legend where Weerasundara Bandara was assassinated by making him fall onto a pitfall set up on the order of the king. “This is the place where he fell” he added.

Mysteries that remain unsolved and the legends of triumphant royalty—the journey to Seethawaka left a memory in my heart. With heavy hearts we bid our farewells to what was once an epitome of majesty.

Pictures: Courtesy of the internet

Bouquets and Brickbats

2013-12-26T12:25:00.000+05:30

Ups and downs—life's vicissitudes,

Rapture and Grive,

Are we all trapped?

In a vicious cycle,

Seeking perpetual satisfaction,

As if immortality is at our behest,
One moment you are applauded,
Then the next slapped across the face,

Unforgettable memories

And emotional scars,

All that is temporal,

All that is just void,

We yearn and plead

For a glorified life,

But the shiny medallion,

Dies in the end with rust.

Lost Cause

2013-11-10T17:21:00.002+05:30

"Give it time",

For time heals,

And the scars of past,
Will fade away,
Leaving memories,
The melancholia,
Will too pass,
And yet,
Why do I still yearn
For what was never mine
to keep,
Why do I still yearn
For what will never be mine...

First Love

2013-10-31T23:57:00.000+05:30

Love casts spells

On those who befall its charm,

An illusion of bliss,

A bittersweet deceit,

Sways the girl in a red scarf,

Lost in her own world,

A world of two souls,

That she thinks is complete,

She wanders away,

Spellbound,

Reminiscing every moment

Spent in his amity,

Little does she know,

That love is temporal,

Little does she know,

That broken hearts cannot be mended,

But her ecstacy

Is a mere illusion

Shattering away,

As he takes the hand of another.

Shaping Myself

2013-07-03T21:25:00.000+05:30

I am what I am,
Because of so many things,
So many people,
Who walked in and out
Of my life,

I am what I am,
Because of all those memories,
Blissful and melancholic,
That mended and shaped,
The aura of my life,

I am what I am,
Because of you, him and her,
I met at different points,
Different places,
In the journey of life,

I am what I am,
Because of the brick walls and flowery ways
I walked through,
Marching forward,
Through bouquets and brickbats,

I am what I am,
I am content,
And I am proud,
For the person I am,
And for the person I"ll be.

Misery of Wealth

2013-06-10T17:04:00.002+05:30

The eternal search for riches
That drowns mankind in
Depths of misery,
From riches
We seek happiness,

The misery of a worker,
Trapped in employer's clutches,
Like a mouse,
Trying to grab the piece of cheese
From the mousetrap,

The misery of a woman,
With an unemployed husband,
The lone struggle to provide,
Bitter arguments
To prove worthless points,

Off walks the young entrepreneur,
With bigger dreams and hopes,
"Cost management", "small business"
He explains,
"Only if I had a bit more"

On a gloomy Sunday,
In the deserted mansion,
Lay the wealthy businessman,
Red spots and a bullet cap on the velvet carpet,
Idly lying paper read, Stock Market Crash!

Loser's Confession

2013-04-26T17:23:00.001+05:30

Life struck,
And reminded me that
I am the royal fumble,
The creator of bumble,

Never considered white,
For I did not get a thing right,
Just a loser, no-hoper;
Ending up a nonstarter,

Was never a good leader,
Because I didn't try harder,
Of the family I am the black sheep
With scars of failure; hurting and deep.

Bidding Farewell

2013-04-20T23:51:00.000+05:30

And the pendulum swings again,
As the last moments
Of blissful institutions
Pass, One by one,

Discussions concluded,
Good times shared,
Memories made,
Yet somethings left unsaid,

I am a coward,
Frightened by the worded expression,
I'll never tell you,
But you'll be missed,

Brace yourself dear friend,
To the delight of novelty,
To exciting encounters,
To the warmth of new friendships,

Rise to your moment,
Seize the day,
Chase your dreams,
Live and relive them,

I wish you joy and laughter,
I wish you strength and courage
To fearlessly face
Challenges that fall upon you,

I bid farewell,
Picturing you through the blurred view
Of my misty eyes,
Farewell dear friend,

I'll await,
Your glorious return,
And will proudly embrace,
My beloved graduate friend.

Bitter Truth

2013-03-14T01:12:00.001+05:30

He picked his words,
Tardily, one by one,
With a heavy heart,
Painting a melancholic word picture,
To tell me,
The Truth,

And I listened,
Shocked in disbelief,
Praying for everything to be a nightmare,
I can wake up from,
Ans chase away the bad memories,
As I fought to hold back tears,

I could see the pain,
In his misty eyes,
The pain of being pierced
Through his heart,
By the sword of truth,
The truth of deceit,

"Immoral bastard!",
"And the bloody Harlot!"
My heart screams,
Confronted with the knowledge
Of treachery,
On my innocent god mother,

A sin,
That can collapse two families,
The truth of adultery,
Perpetrated by the bastard and the harlot,
A secret,
We can neither protect nor reveal,

He lost his father,
And they lost their mother,
The crime has already been committed
And has to be revealed,
It is yet another incidnet,
Proving the non-existence of love.

Facing Reality (Inspired by Sri Siddhartha Gautama)

2013-02-12T01:50:00.001+05:30

Blindfolded,
By worldly comforts,
That seem to yield pleasure
And satisfaction,
Just an illusion,
And lives,
Are mocked,
By the vicious cycle of 'sansara'
Where all are deceived,

Nothing but an endless struggle,
To find happiness,
To be contempt,
With minds blinded
By the mist of greed,
Covering the path to freedom,
Eternal peace
And enlightenment,

I watched,
As Prince Siddhartha,
Boldly set off his journey,
To find the truth,
Seek the path to end suffering,
Leaving behind royal comforts,
Departing from the warmth of his beloved Yashodhara
And temporal bonds,
For the salvation of mankind,

The Prince,
Like a lotus bloomed out of mud,
Sought the path to freedom,
In the bedlams of secular world,
Becoming his own master,
Guided by courage and wisdom,
He found the path,
The supreme truth,
Of enlightenment,

And here we are today,
You and I,
Gifted with the treasure of human life,
With the choice,
To follow what is right,
Temporal pleasure or supreme truth,
Suffering or peace,
Somehow greed gets the best of us,
Deluding with its convincing merry,

People come out of the theater,
Admiring the story of the brave Prince,
Bragging about faith and piety,
The mendicant at the entrance begs for pity,
Yet, not one would care to spare change,
Until the enemy within is defeated,
The journey gets longer and longer,
Until we let go,
Suffering is inevitable.

The Choice

2013-01-09T01:01:00.002+05:30

"You made a choice"
The prosecutor said sternly,
Raising his coarse voice,
And she listened,
"But I was a guard"
She said,
"My duties were not to be barred"

She thought back to the eerie night,
The long death march,
With its evident destination in sight,
She had to maintain order,
And the Jews were to die,
Inside the locked church's border,

"You never opened the door"
"You watched them suffer"
"You heard their cries, their sore"
Thumping his words, the prosecutor goes on,
Staring at her reflection on the granite floor,
She wonders, What else could have she done?

Lost in her memory she wandered away,
To the orphaned girl,
Strolling on Berlin streets in her melancholic sway,
To the young woman,
The conductor in a tram car,
Working to answer hunger's summon,

Poverty's cruel fate,
Deprived of life's pleasures,
Unfortunate and illitereate,
It was blatant and plain,
A choice was never to be made,
But to accept and not complain,

"The SS is recruiting",
Someone had said,
"They are looking for guards",
"These people deserve an answer!"
Demands the prosecutor,
Killing her reminiscence,

And there she stood,
Before the law,
Trying to remember if she could
Have opened the door and saved them,
But she was just a guard,
And her duties were not to be barred.

Shattering the Illusion

2012-12-15T12:10:00.001+05:30

I remember,

When you were my hero,

My inspiration,

You meant the world,

For that little girl,

Who used to await your return everyday,

Waiting to cheer you

After a hectic day's work

Were you just pretending?

Was it an illusion that you created?

Was it my naivety?

Or was I just blind

To your dark side?

What changed you?

Was it us?

Or was it the inebriant?

You say it is a manipulation,

That I am under mom's influence,

I have grown up,

Begun to understand

It was all a lie,

You never loved us,

It was always about you

And your inebriant,

I thought I could change everything,
Change you,
I was wrong,
You were just blind,
To my suffering,
My rage, my frustration,
I am still wrong but forgive me,
For I can not stop hating you..........

It is You......

2012-12-04T13:40:00.000+05:30

It is you,
Who I always sat next to
Every time the teacher grouped us,
It is you,
Who amused me
With all that witty talk,
It is you,
Who motivated me,
Whenever I thought I couldn't,
It is you,
For whom I cried
When you left to another school,
It is you,
The only one who would understand
All those family chaos,
It is you,
Who comforted me every time
When in the depth of sadness,
It is you,
Who I still miss
And yearn for that warm smile,
It is you,
My best friend
Without whom I am incomplete.

Passion

2012-12-01T19:32:00.000+05:30

There is a famous quote by the philosopher Confucius which says that 'Chose something you love as your job and you will never have to work a single day of your life' and there is one person who makes me think that this is actually true. He is a photographer who happens to be one of my colleagues. Whenever I go on assignments with him, I see how passionate he is about his profession. He pays complete attention to what he is doing and strives to capture the perfect moment even it means risking his life for it. Trust me us, news journalists come across many life threatening situations from time to time when carrying out our professional duties (luckily I haven't suffered such a fate so far :P). Last week I went on an assignment with him and was completely inspired by his hardworking attitude which made me dedicate this to him.

The passionate photographer

In the midst of the common man's struggle of life,
Capturing its complexity,
Its beauty,
Or in the midst of a chaotic protest,
Where there are clashes of bad institutions,
He fights, he strives,
With his third eye,
He captures emotions,
Anger, sorrow,
Happiness, the joy of a poor innocent child
He captures all this,
He is the modern day hero,
With creativity as his superpower,
And his undying passion
To capture the perfect moment,
Within a split of a second,
As the shutter clicks,
I see him,
His satisfying grin,
As he admires his exposure,
It is not his job,
Nor his money-maker,
It is his passion and his muse,
And Indika Handuwala,
Will be my favorite photographer,
And greatest inspirer.

Peace

2012-11-28T19:12:00.000+05:30

In the depth
Of solitary moments,
In the comforting ease
Of summer's breeze against my skin,
In the sway
Of soothing musical lullaby,
In the bliss,
Of endearing friendship
It lies,
Plain and precise,
And there will I find
My way to eternal peace