Thank you for your contributions to the page on "Swaying". We have swayed
our way to the end of another year and seeing all the writing that has
come into the 100-word page has indeed been a rewarding experience. We
were specially pleased at the new writers and hope that there will be many
more in the new year. We also hope that the more established writers will
The theme for January is "BUD". Pls. send in your work before the 19th
of January 2002, to:
C/o The Sunday Times
8, Hunupitiya Cross Road,
N.B. Work sent to this page may be edited.
At the name of Judas, our hearts are filled with hate
We think of 'The Betrayal' - the 'kiss' upon his face
We think of the cunning, yet fail to understand
How a friend once so close, could e'er betray the Son of Man.
Yet have we not let down someone, have we not slammed that door
On some 'once dear friend' whom now, we scorn as 'foe'?
Have we not hidden, with a smile so false, a heart of jealousy?
And so like Judas, the end of life, may find us swaying from a tree
Swaying for an "yes"
Two eyes glitter. They shine with love. Turning straight at a young girl,
they ask something. She knows that the eyes are innocent and she likes
the way they speak.
Her heart beats fast; the pulse rises. Being afraid that he'll hear
the beating, she covers her heart with her hand. Still, the heart beats
- saying "yes". The mind objects. "Try to understand. You shouldn't say
'yes'... Not now."
Her head, sways from left to right... Does it mean "No"? he wonders.
The eyes turn down. They go away from her. Far and far away.
A young green leaf, sways in the air. It comes down with the wind and
touches the ground near the girl's feet.
The Gilt Girl
The opportunist of today
Hiding behind innocent people's hope -
Hope for decent living
Hope for righteousness -
Sets them in swaying motion
Once every six years
In this land of fools
Sway for years
Sway for self-prosperity
Changing their policies
Changing their words
Changing their colours
With the aim of settling down
On the side of power
You and I, in the majority
With our fingers crossed
With a deep regret for our folly
Once in six years
Start swaying again
At the eleventh hour
Not knowing whom to choose
But crying out for a change.
The Madonna like calm
The pain imprisoned
caught in the tears
held back, so long.
She was treading the clouds,
but no one knew.
Today, she is deep down
in an abyss
Still, no one would know
For, the smiling mask
will replace the grief.
Ah! the world would exclaim,
"She's untouched by the
swaying of emotions
suffered by the masses!"
Politicians have been swaying -
Opinion is swaying -
One newspaper asserts vociferously
The Blues are mismanaging;
Another proclaims blatantly
The Greens have an unholy pact.
There's just one more week
It's not time for vacillating;
The voter must have
Clarity of thought
And tenacity of mind
To choose the right clolour
'Ere this goes into print
The voter's task will long be done;
Undulating colours will have merged
With either the Greens or the Blues.
The cot with the baby
Sways to and fro
To the sweet rhythm of
The proud mother's lullaby
Doi doi doi doiya baba
Bai bai bai baiya baba
Swings during Sinhala New Year
With two lovely damsels
Sways forwards and backwards
Mingling with Unsili Varam
The village festive air
Tick tock, tick tock
Pendulum of the wall clock
Sways to the right and left
Reminding us that
Time waits for no man
And we are swaying
Hour by hour
When the swing goes up
The wind is cool,
I see the people on the other side of the river bank
They are happy and joyful
But the same wind takes me down,
And drops me among my folk
There's fighting, bloodshed and sorrow,
I suffer with all of them.
I fly over the clouds,
To where these happy people live.
To feel the joy and freedom they feel
There's no war, no fights, no fear,
Neither is there hope nor excitement,
I cage myself with them
In an air-conditioned concrete land.
The swing again sways,
Taking me down to show my roots.
My folk are happy there,
Amidst the problems they have
They have the freedom of birds.
But, isn't the grass greener on the other side?
Mihiri Anusha Ekanayake
The night was calm;
A gentle breeze caressed my skin,
It was beautiful, tranquil,
Nothing like the state my mind was in - a state of turmoil;
Where do I go from now?
A part of me wants to let go,
Another wants to hang on .... forever, even if it's only memories left,
My mind refuses to decide.
The branches of a tree nearby sway gently,
Not sure where to turn, where to direct itself,
Like my thoughts, my feelings;
I wish the night would embrace me in its
Serenity, so at last I can be at peace, like it.
A civil feat
Clarifying a point
An extra eye
The boy who lost his life,
A civil feat
Sad to say, but this is a time when everything but the kitchen sink is
plummeting downhill; prosperity, economy, and predominantly the human norms
and discipline. People are so consumed with gourmandism and success that
human values are past recollection.
What has happened to those ''magic words" like 'Please' and 'Thank You?'
Maybe in time to come those utterances would no longer be in the lexis.
And what about "a smile means friendship for everyone" and the like? In
this day and age most people don't even notice that someone is giving them
an amiable smile. What one confronts is a crotchety, anxious or deadpan
countenance, time and time again.
Then there are other matters which would be comical if they were not
infuriating. When a bus pulls over at the bus stop, even if there are only
a handful of people, they would shove and trample and sport all the tricks
in the book to climb into the bus. And it's the same yarn when you get
If you go to the bank or library, most of the time you have to act like
a crook and keep a very close scrutiny on the queue, or someone's sure
to jump the line. These are only a sprinkling of my acquaintance, but I'm
sure you could recall oodles.
They say that "childhood discipline cannot be learnt from the pages
of books". So I trust that it has to be cultivated. Man has even gone to
the moon. Being civil can't be so big a feat, can it?
Clarifying a point
Reply to V. Vithshager (Indians model letter),
In my previous article on Indian Models, first of all I would like to
tell you that the term "model" was used on he/she who appears in the advertisement.
I am aware of the amount of Indian goods consumed in Sri Lanka, but that
necessarily does not mean Indian advertisements should be given priority
as you yourself agree that the ultimate goal is to sell the product and
not to make the model popular. But let's not forget, without advertising,
people will have no clue of what's in the stores. And I did mention in
my first letter that the direct ad is dubbed to save cost. All I was trying
to say was that the final consumers are Sri Lankans who are informed about
(local or Indian) goods in a unfamiliar manner and that local models deserve
a chance whenever possible. Judging by your name I presume that you are
an Indian and obviously, would vote for Indian Models. However your point
about Sri Lankans lacking "flair & beauty" is a matter of opinion.
Having experience in advertising I am well aware of the stiff competition
among Indian models and how eager they are to travel to Sri-Lanka for assignments.
How can you guarantee that all models in India are doing well and do not
have to travel to any other country? I have only penned my thoughts and
not really accused anyone. Why you had to take my article personally I
do not know! Last but not least, let me remind you that everyone has a
right to their opinion so even if you do have something against what I
had to say, it's fine by me.
An extra eye
It's great to be able to see the many thousands of things around us. But
have you ever thought of what you don't see?
We see lots of things about other people. But what about ourselves?
We don't always see the way we really are. Just imagine what it would be
like if we had an extra eye to look inwards at ourselves, to see how we
really are. How many changes would you make?
The boy who lost his life,
Goodbye to you my unknown friend,
Your precious life came to an end.
Sadness numbed us
For you were the loveliest of all.
We remember you in happy days,
And re-live them over and over again,
In the swift flight of time,
Our hearts will heal,
But you won't be forgotten.
As you have left your foot prints.
I hear about the lasting joys,
The world, full of happiness,
But is it true? Things are not what they seem,
Life is but an empty dream.
And I believe, you will lead into another life,
The never ending sea of Sansara,
Good bye, good bye to you, my friend.
A girl from the Saturday Class