Month: July 2023

Month in Review: July

Month is Review is back! But this time, with a new board to commence the Rotaract Year 2023 – 2024. While we were busy getting accustomed to our new roles and trying our best to fulfil our responsibilities, we did also conduct some exciting projects! The month started with avenue meetings where our members were introduced to the board, and we were able to share our plans for the year to come. We also proudly launched our logo and motto “Come for the Fellowship, Stay for the Impact” and successfully conducted our transition meeting which was attended by many dignitaries! Moving on, join us as we relay to you all we got up to within the month! *** Professional Development…

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Bruises

My parents say I was a pretty babyPeople had turned back and staredPraised them for making;A beautiful baby girl Soon School turned the praise to tauntsAnd Home turned the taunts to cracksI get the smell of zinca familiar metallic taste The blood dries on a crumpled tissueI drop the blade I used.I carry abandoned cities in my ribsAbused borders on my thighs I look at myself in the mirrorI’ve turned my face into a riotMy hands are a civil warIn between my knuckles are small coloniesAs rich in culture that castes me out I hold myself at night as I rock myself to sleepTelling myself no man will love me.After all, what man wants to lie in bed and watch…

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Sibling Bond

The Codex in my handOpened yet untouchedWhat a Knight I amSlacking off…But Sister knows better-"A-ya why don't you call it a day?"Sat down at the tavern,Waiting for the usual,"Boss, one fine Dandelion wine!"Ignoring me as usual…"Do Knights have time to come and idle here?"Oh Brother, cold as ever,Does this agonising heart not deserve a little flatter?Thousand words uttered for the worst or the better,But two kept hidden inside this empty vessel.Alas! the fiery rage has blinded you forever.Don't you see that,I'm a man,But a boy with a stutter. - Rtr. Chamodi Peduruarachchi

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සීගිරි කාශ්‍යපගේ වියරුව

මහා ගල හරි තදින් ඔපදාඒ මුදුනෙ මාළිඟා තනවාහෙළයෙ නාමය ලොවේ රන්දාසිංහගිර මං තැනෙව්වා බිසෝවරු රුව ගලේ අඳවාකවියො ගෙන්වා කවි ලියවලාකදිම ජලමල් පොකුණු බඳවාඅලකපුර සිරිලක තැනෙව්වා පුරා සියවස් ගණන් ගෙව්නාඅලුත් මිනිසුන් මෙහෙට ආවාසොබාදහමින් සැදුණු රජබිමකසළ කන්දෙන් වසා දැම්මා ආලකමන්දා නමින් පරසිඳුසීගිරිය ලොව පුදුම කරලූප්ලාස්ටික් කඳු මතින් වැහිලාදකින කොට හදවතම පිච්චූ වෙමිය මම කාශ්‍යප රජපුරා සුපතළ හෙළයෙ නාමයයළිත් නැඟිටිමි පළා සොහොනතදෙපළු කරනෙමි නර මිනිස් කැළ කසබු ශාපය නොවැඳි ඉන්නටයළිත් රකිනුව මගේ සිහගිරප්ලාස්ටික් කුණු ඉවත් කර දාසදා රකිනුව හෙළයෙ උරුමය - Rtr. කවීෂා හංසි

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NONE OF THEM 

I am not who you call a Muslim Whom you see down the street and whisper furtively among yourselves, “Terrorist” Murderous, impulsive Blinded by hate and a fierce devotion to merciless religious rituals, crying, “Purge this land of unbelievers” I am not what you call a Hindu Worshipper of idols, self-appointed overseers of birth and caste, In an effort to placate pagan gods; Or diligently watch the stars and moon; Content to leave my life to the mercy Of unknown elements. But neither am I what you call a Christian Exclusive, selfish but condescending, All for show Barring our doors to those that need us the most; “For the good of us all” you say. Then pass by with a…

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What’s in a Name?

World, I need you to know That it was not my place to decide To whom I should be born Nor my first name Nor my family name Nor my class Nor my creed “What’s in a name? That which we call a rose, By any other name would smell as sweet” The bloom of the wild And the bloom of the slum Would still smell as sweet as The rose in the Queen’s bouquet, The bees will testify So, keep your rancid wreath to yourselves. I only pray that your poison ivy hate Would not strangle the musk red bloom; Who is far prettier than you Rtr. Hiruni Hitihamu

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කවි සිත්තරුන්

කවියො කියන්නෙමසීමා විරහිත සිතුවිලිකාරයොන්ටරාමුවෙන් එහා සක්වලපමණ ඉක්මවා සක්මන් කරනඋද්ධච්ච හිතලුගොන්නකසාඩම්බර හිමිකාරයොන්ටවිශාදය වැළඳුණු කවියෝබෙහෙතට ගන්නෙ පෑනසුදු හිස් පත්ඉරු වලඅකුරු රටා මවනෙකයි උන්ට උරුමකවියෙක් කියන්නෙමඕනෑවට වඩා හිතනෙකටදරන්නම බැරිව පිපිරෙන්න එද්දිසීරුවට පන්හිඳ දිගේදියවෙන්න දෙන එකට… - Rtr. හිරුණි අත්තනායක

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The Peanut Man on the Bus

The bell rang and the bus hit the brakes. The peanut man got on the bus and started chanting his ritual, "Peanuts! Peanuts! Baked peanuts! 100 rupees per bag! Only 100 rupees!". Some old ladies delightfully bought them. I nonchalantly looked away and closed my eyes. They flew open as I heard Thaththa’s voice call out, "One bag please.". I jolted up from my relaxed position and stared at him. Thankfully he didn’t notice. As I looked on, he opened the bag of peanuts and started cracking them and munching on them ever so gleefully. As if he has done this all his life. As if he always bought peanuts from the peanut man on the bus. As if he…

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Where I believe life is most humane

I take pictures of most random thingsat the most random momentswhere I believe life is most humane:My coffee cup on a random daywhen the foams looknothing like how it was yesterday;When a bird flies across the same gentle breeze that caress my skin;Colors and texture of my paint palette today.To think that this exact momentwill never really have a tomorrowmakes me want to hoardeven the simplest of moments.Have I finally become attached to lifeor still trying to belong somewhere? - Rtr. Michelle Perera

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The Next Chapter Begins!

It is safe to say that for the both of us, among the many avenues of the Rotaract Arts Club, the editorial was the one that felt most like home. The editorial is more than words on a page; it is a sanctuary of sorts where imagination knows no bounds and you can write to your heart's content. In addition to being the tapestry where all our emotions, feelings, and opinions are woven together, we are also dedicated to upholding the public image of Rotaract Arts Club. Yes, it is a tremendous responsibility, but one that we as editors find great joy in! As we start our journey as co-editors (hello, hello!) for the year 23/24, we cannot start this…

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