You are my everything Mom, You are the infinite sky of my life. You are the deep sea in my life. And you are the rainbow in my life. If you were not my mom, my life would have been in thick darkness. If you were not my mom, I would have lost the spirit of my life. Mom, You are my everything... -Rtr. Rebeka Hewavitharana
Category: The Love Gazette
Purest Love: A Baby’s Embrace
She gazes upon me,with pearls of radiance,inviting me to a world sublime,where words fall short,yet her eyes weave tales,as profound as the endless sea,A timeless reminder of ‘love’. At times I ponder,how can this tiny soul,grasp the feelings of all?A love so gentle,yet fierce in its claim.A love so precious,spanning a thousand miles wide. - Rtr. Raziya Lareef
About Love
Love is diverse. If we think from the beginning, our lives start with our mother's love. We are bound first by the love of our parents and siblings. I am not about to talk about that love, but that doesn't mean it is not worth it. This is about the love that can create a heart illusion at the first sight of someone you have never met before. My effort is to tell you how to love someone the way I feel. Love knows no bounds, whether it is owned or not. But the love of those who love without trying to gain it is amazing. Simply put, before saying I love you, you must have an idea of the…
Title: An Extract from a Diary
03.07.2021 I love to see people in love. Yet, I wonder if it's safer to unlove. My cheeks don't form any dimple when I smile. Nothing looks good on me. I don't have doe eyes either. Not pretty. Definitely unlovable. All I've got is betrayal. The only compliment I get is ' why are you so pessimistic '. Is that even a compliment?. I haven't achieved anything in my life that could make my mother happy. I'm the useless and the worthless. How am I supposed to love myself when I can't even define who I am? They say that the strongest form of love is self-love, yet is it possible to love yourself when you don't even know what…
The War on Love
When we were littleIt was differentHand in handFreely we ranWe laughed at the voices We didn't talk aboutThe great riftTwo worlds but oneWe lived, we lovedWe defied the voices I don't remember whenBut it changedWe fought but in vainHer people, My peopleThe voices screamed Torn between love and fearTorn by our differencesShe lost so muchI lost too muchThe voices claimed victory We are older nowWith children of our ownWe whisper to themHate different, hate herWe are the voices - Rtr. Batya Peter
An Unbreakable Bond
Sibling love is a story that unfolds over a lifetime, filled with shared memories, laughter, support, and sometimes even disagreements. It often starts as soon as the younger one enters the world, and for me, it was no different. I vividly remember the excitement and curiosity that enveloped my older sister when I was born. To her, I was a tiny bundle of wonder, and she was my protector from day one. Our shared memories from those early years are like precious gems. We played together in the garden, climbed trees, and built sandcastles at the beach. These were moments of pure joy and boundless imagination, where sibling love thrived in the simplest of adventures. The teenage years, however, brought…
Embracing the Soul: The Artistry of Self-love
Self-love is the gentle embrace we offer ourselves in a world that often demands perfection. It's the realization that our worth isn't determined by external validation, but by the deep understanding of our own inherent value. It's an ongoing journey of acceptance, compassion, and forgiveness toward the one person we will be with throughout our entire lives – ourselves. In a society that frequently emphasizes comparison and self-criticism, practicing self-love is an act of rebellion. It's a commitment to nurturing our physical, emotional, and mental well-being, acknowledging both our strengths and our areas of growth. Self-love doesn't mean ignoring flaws; rather, it means acknowledging them without letting them define us. At its essence, self-love is the art of crafting healthy boundaries, acknowledging…
And What of Love?
On MarriageA coy smile from the bride, a shy grin from the groom. The moment they’ve waited for their whole lifetimes is really happening. One year down the line, a new addition; four more years and another one. The two become four. And what of love? Well, see it's complicated... the husband goes silent, saying “Yes” to what the wife says is the way to survive. Happy wife happy life. The wife, she’s overwhelmed with her career, looking after her kids and making a home for them. Heart’s bitter, the husband seems to lay around all weekend and do nothing of the housework. That’s the woman’s job he says. Inside he’s crumbling from work pressure, wracking his brain thinking; how…
Whispers of Love
I’m seven years old, sitting amidst grey walls, staring at the smiling old woman. She tells me to smile and that I look prettier when I do—psychologist; too heavy of a word for such a young child. She tells me everything will be fine, but it will take time. Smiling takes less effort, I learned, and I keep that in mind for the rest of my life. I love you, I whisper to her because she does understand. And she does care, she does give her ear to the dilemma of a seven-year-old sad a little too early in her life. I’m nine years old when I walk into my mother crying. Her face was blotched with the weight of…
Aesthetic of the Unfinished
Oftentimes, the indecipherable aesthetic of unfinished art baffles me. With each brush stroke that adorns my canvas, a melancholic numbness engulfs my being; for everytime it finds a new form It's current mien dies with it. I snap photographs, hang them on walls—an innuendo of past lives of an artwork. Taking one glimpse of the "aesthetic of the unfinished", I adorn it with layers of new paint— for you must convey a moral to the world. A twist in my heart: a longing to witness a finished artwork, yet mourning over it's passing miens. What's really an artwork but a graveyard of it's past forms? Rtr. Michelle Perera