Young Life Unfolds: Memories of Ceylon

Denzil Jayasinghe
2 min readFeb 14, 2024

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The first flickers of memory paint a picture of a bustling army camp transformed into an open-air cinema, echoing with the click and whir of the projector and the laughter of families sharing the magic of movies. My father, a young man with a love for the silver screen, would take me by the hand, and the world would shrink to the flickering images on a white sheet.

Our home, nestled near the clamor of Kandy Road, was soon replaced by a quieter haven in Mudiyansegewatta. This new space, inherited from my mother, was a canvas for countless adventures. The vast garden, a playground of endless possibilities, echoed with the laughter of my sister, Rekha, who arrived soon after our move.

Life wasn’t without its challenges. The grief that cloaked the nation after the assassination of the Prime Minister resonated even in our small corner. Yet, there was joy in the simple things: the thrill of riding my father’s bicycle, the comfort of my grandfather’s stories, and the warmth of my aunt’s affection.

Seeya Pappa, my grandfather, was a figure larger than life. His journey from a farmer’s son to a respected teacher was etched in the imposing house he built and the countless books that lined his shelves. He was a disciplinarian, a legacy of his profession, but also a man of immense kindness, who took me on walks and introduced me to his world.

His house, with its long driveway and hidden well, was a wonderland. The butterflies dancing in the garden, the shops lining the road, and the massive dining table – a testament to his love for family – all painted a picture of a life rich in stories and experiences.

Evenings were filled with the sound of rosaries clicking, a ritual that tested my young patience. While others knelt in devotion, I yearned for playtime. Yet, a stern word from Seeya Pappa, followed by my aunt’s gentle reassurance, taught me the importance of respect and tradition.

These early memories, though fragmented, are like brushstrokes on a canvas, forming a portrait of my childhood – a time of laughter, discovery, and the quiet wisdom of family. They are a reminder of the simple joys, the challenges, and the love that shaped the person I am today.

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Denzil Jayasinghe
Denzil Jayasinghe

Written by Denzil Jayasinghe

Lifelong learner, tech enthusiast, photographer, occasional artist, servant leader, avid reader, storyteller and more recently a budding writer

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