I sit on a throne that lifts me high above the ground. Behind me is my loyal guardian, my father. He watches me as I face a giant mirror showing me my reflection. The barber is an expert at his job. He uses a clipper that makes a twik-tak sound…

A Story of Immigration and Resilience — As we landed in Sydney, Australia, I felt a surge of emotions. I looked at my family: my cheerful daughters, seven and five, my playful son, three, and my then partner expecting our fourth child. Joyful tears swelled my eyes. I gazed out of the window and saw the land…

Why were you named? I am the firstborn to my parents. I’m not sure why I was named Denzil. They must have been proud of me because our family home was also named ‘Denzil’. A bold nameplate was affixed to the front of our home with my name. What do…

The story is about the author’s parents and their lives before they met each other. The author reflects on the photos of his parents and wonders about their lives before they became his parents. The photos make him realise that there are aspects of his parents he hardly knows at…

The little boy hiccupped once again, and again, and again. His mother had been trying to help him overcome his hiccups for hours. She had exhausted every remedy, forcing him to drink water, holding his breath, back-patting, and even tickling. Unfortunately, nothing worked. “I wish I could find a way…

A festival and a mother who did not give up. — The next few days were the Vesak festival. Three days of glittering pandals and Vesak lanterns were not to be missed. Also not to miss were the popular food stalls that sprung everywhere. …

A bumpy ride and beyond — That afternoon is a blur in my memory. I pedalled to Jeeva’s place, where Kandy Road met the Cross Junction. Jeeva’s mum greeted me with a steaming cup of tea. I couldn’t resist her tea, rich with sweetened milk, a delight to brighten up a late afternoon. I lounged on…

A Tale of Loyalty and Quick Thinking — As a kid, I looked up to Seneviratne Maama and Asoka Maama. The story begins with Seneviratne Maama, the elder brother. With fair skin, unusual for a Sri Lankan, and straight nose made him handsome. He came from the Sinhala Buddhist heartland and wore a white kurta and sarong. …

An Ode to Childhood Memories and Simple Pleasures — As I step into the corner store, the scents of freshly baked bread and burning oil greet me. Mudalali, the friendly shopkeeper, flashes me a smile and calls me “Baby,” a nickname he’s given me since I was little. I don’t mind it, though. …