|Original photograph by @PaviliciousK|
Drip. Drip. Drip.
What in gods name is dripping from the ceiling??
Malli slowly reaches up- CRASH! BANG! DONG-PATAS-DONG!
Shit and piss from our upstairs neighbours trickles into our bathroom. I look at Malli spraying industrial-strength disinfectant and all i can see is the drip drip of my hard earned salary; down the shit pipes.
I was left feeling empty as he slung words of cruelty on to me, accusing me of things I hadn't done. My world was shattering and funnily I could see the pieces falling. My knees gave way and I fell to the floor. There I lay, an empty and broken person.
For two hours she lay on the bathroom floor, curled up into a ball, balling her eyes out, her heart broken. “How did she let the events of the last 24 hours happen?”
Suddenly there was a knock on her apartment door.
“Omg! They’ve come for me!” she thought in horror. “What do I do?!”
|Original photograph by @Mari_deSilva|
Listless, she walks the streets, a thatched bag under her arm. It holds newspaper cuttings carrying images of young boys held at detention centres; two of whom she’s identified as her sons.
“I know they are alive.
Why can’t they just let me see my boys?
I will not rest until then,” she cries.
the promise i made
i will never
shed a tear for you
the only promise
i had ever
A self-immolated spirit wails in vain.
I have blundered. Yes! I shouldn't have sacrificed myself for such a mere reason. I am broken *Wails*. I have been such a worst fanatic. This place is so dreadful. Will I ever be able to get my soul back to my worldly body!? Oh politicos, help me!
From Priyanthie de Silva:
I had never seen such a neglected garden or such a dilapidated house. Curiosity made me walk in through the broken gate, sure that it was abandoned.On nearing the front door, a soft moaning could be heard.I peeped in to see an old woman, wailing plaintively, 'my putha (son), my deiyo (God)."
From Gillian Nair:
You're a coward.
You spit out words of hate
With your raw cold heart
You breathe lies and swear them true.
You're the coward, not me.
I'm the forgotten
I'm the wasted
I'm the broken
I'm the damned.
I'm the fucked up.
But you'll always be the coward,
Who couldn't fight back for me.
O' my beloved lass, thou once made a pledge:
'Shall come alongst with mate, towards southern edge
Neath the the moonlit woods beside the rivers'.
Hast broken thy promise; alas, my breast now shivers!
'Two killed in a landmine explosion in Kilinochchi,' says Army.
[Inspired by Bharati's 'Theertthak karaiyinile'.]
From Tristan Kube:
|Original photograph by Tristan Kube|
The mind was his mallet and all he needed was space to dream.
“HE’S LOST HIS MIND”, the guards said...
Only, such men ne’re broke.
In the corner of the room, the unwashed, bedraggled prisoner mumbled to himself. He gazed vacantly at the door as it opened.
The agent took one look at the man who used to be the world’s foremost criminal mastermind and sighed in exasperation.
“You broke him,” she said accusingly to the warden. “He’s useless now.”