Once upon a time,lived a fool and a priest.Fool, who desire crime,with a heart of a beast. The Priest save him no prayer,but some wine & crumbs of bread.For his heart so heavy with desire,flames ignite the skin while he bled. Once upon a time,the Priest loved the Fool.Oneday,he forgot his church rhymes,and that was a change of rule. The Fool said,"My dear, dear FedyaI please to kill."And everybody could swear,it was wet in red down the hill Rtr. Chamodi Peduruarachchi
Tag: #RotaractArts
For My Mother
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
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
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…
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…
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
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
The true sense of love…
Love is a divine sentiment that ties people together in some kind of a passionate bond. And it is a heart-to-heart conversation and connection that exists among people. The affection, care, fondness, and tenderness combined together can be defined as love. It’s a feeling of strong attachment that almost every creature yearns to have at least once in their lifetime. And this love is even powerful enough to decide a person’s progress or downfall. Hence, love is as sweet, precious, and vibrant as spring violets, and it can even be as bitter as a deathly hemlock. The love is sweet or bitter, as per the circumstances. People go through and experience different phases of love throughout their lifetime. Everyone learns…
Façades
"So, Duamma, do you have a boy now?" The question that I had been dreading came up during dinner. Right after Thaththi asked the question, Ammi and Malli, too, expectantly looked up at me. Suddenly, the savoury pasta lost its taste and tasted bland in my mouth. I put down my spoon, took a sip of water and forced a smile as I denied having a "boy". Maybe they tried to hide it, or maybe they intended for me to see it. However, I saw a clear relief in my Thaththi’s eyes and a visible disappointment in Ammi’s. Malli, being who he was, made a disgusted face at me. As I picked up the spoon to eat again, my entire…