2016 - 11 - 03 හෙලයේ මහා ගාන්ධර්වයාණෝ ලෙස විරුදාවලි ලත් ආචාර්ය පණ්ඩිත් අමරදේව සූරින් දැයෙන් සමුගෙන අද දිනට වසර 07ක් ඉක්ම ගොසිනි!!! 1927 වර්ෂයේ දෙසැම්බර් 5 වන දින දොන් ගිගෝරිස් පෙරේරා සහ මැගී වෙස්ලිනා මෙන්ඩිස් ට දාව මොරටුවේදි උපත ලද වනක්කුවත්ත මිටිවඩුගේ දොන් ඇල්බට් පෙරේරා, ප්‍රකට ගායන හා සංගීතඥයෙකු ලෙස ශ්‍රී ලංකාවේදී හඳුනාගනු ලබන්නේ ඔහුගේ ආරෝපිත නාමය වූ "අමරදේව" නමිනි. අමරදේව යන නාමය මහාචාර්ය එදිරිවීර සරච්චන්ද්‍රයන් විසින් ඔහුට ප්‍රදානය කරන ලද නාමයයි. විමලා අමරදේවයන්, එතුමාගේ දයාබර බිරිඳ, සසර පුරුද්දට මෙන් එතුමාගේ බිරිඳ වන්නට ම පෙර භවයන්ගේත්, මේ භවයෙත්, මතුවටත් උපදිනු ඇතැයි මට සිතේ. අමරදේවයන්ගේ හඬ මාධුර්යයෙන් මත්ව සිටින සෑම රසික හදවතක් ම පෙර නොවු විරූ අන්දමක කම්පාවකට…
Category: Editorial
නීල දෙණිපතක කවි සුළඟ
සුසුවඳ සුළඟේ - මල් මකරන්දේනීල දෙණිපතේ - සෙවණැලි යායේහීන පුරෝගෙන - සීත මකාගෙනගලනා ගඟුලැල්ලේ අහස් තොටුපළේ - වලා ඔරු තලේහීන දියඹරේ - හරිත තුරුල්ලේසෙනෙහෙ බෙදාගෙන - සිනා මවාගෙනගෙවෙනා දිවිගමනේ උණුසුම් උදයේ - තුරු හසරැල්ලේපිනි කඳුළැල්ලේ - දේදුනු යායේසුසුම දරාගෙන - තුටින් පිරීගෙනකියනා ගී මිහිරේ Rtr. කවීෂා හංසි
Thoughts of the Flawed
When time comes to say goodbye, We cry to soothe the pain in our hearts, Am I less human because I shed no tears? We make no effort to see the living, Yet we find time to see the dead, Am I allowed to regret the lack of memories? The pain, the hurt, the emotional scars carved over decades, We forget them in a second, Am I foolish to repent over the mistakes of childhood? When Death visits and wraps his ghostly claws around my neck, Am I allowed to tell him no? Rtr. Vibhavee Sarathchandra
Month in Review: August & September
Yes, exams are coming up but the Month in Review team couldn't resist updating you on some of the most exciting and interesting events of RotaractArts, so take a break, and read away! -Co-Editors. Club Service Avenue The inaugural project of Club Service Avenue, ‘Sweet Grass’, by the Rotaract Club of University of Colombo, Faculty of Arts, was held at Viharamahadevi Park on August 19, 2023, the event was a remarkable success. The park transformed into a vibrant hub of engaging activities, showcasing the club members’ dedication and organizational skills. From interactive games to artistic stalls, ‘Sweet Grass’; brought the community together in a memorable way. Kudos to the club for this fantastic initiative, and we are excited to see…
Voice of thoughts on self love
When I no longer find comfort within my own self,happiness seems obscure,as my heart creeps towards the depths of darkness,yearning for affliction….Pain caresses my soul,gently breaking it piece by piece.I see no stars bejewelling my skynor shrouded wisps of cloudsto capture an artist's eye.The note of my lyre has become dull,My life like lukewarm coffee,bitter and unappealingHatred,spreads through me like a plague….. But there are moments I wonder,How the sky can still be prettyeven in the absence of stars and clouds,For there are myriads of shadesto unmask it's beauty.Can't a dull melody ever be soothing?To please an ear which accepts change?Will a coffee ever be unappealing ,warm or cold,To someone who loves the taste?So why dwell on lingering hatewhen there…
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…
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…
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
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…
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