Ball of Choas

I remember trying to memorize the multiplication tables when I was small, trying my hardest to remember it all but when it eventually fails I opt for the next best method, by cheating. I used to be a below average student, often not being interested in the homework or studies that I had to do. Since I didn't do it by myself my mother became my tutor, over the weekend she will make sure that I got my homework done, which included remembering my multiplication tables. Having always been bad at anything to do with numbers I opted to write the multiplications in the palm of my hand and recite the whole thing to her while she was busy ironing the clothes. I would quickly recite what was written on my hand in fear that she would turn around and catch me reading from the palm of my hand. While at the time I always thought that I was clever and stealthy, my mother happened to be cleverer. She would immediately know when I was pulling a fast one on her. She would turn around and then tel...

Junko Furuta was just another teenager living an ordinary life, worrying about exams, dates, boys etc. However, she faced one of the most gruesome, inhumane deaths in the fall of 1989. In the fall of 1989 Junko was abducted by four boys of her age and held captive in the house of one of the abductors. In order to avoid suspicion the captors made her call her parents and inform them that she had run away and was staying over at a friends place. Her days held as a captive before her death were even termed as 44 days of hell, during this time period she underwent unfathomable methods of torture and rape. Junko Furuta Her days of hell started off with: DAY 1: November 22, 1988: Kidnapped Kept captive in house, and posed as one of boy’s girlfriend Raped (over 400 times in total) Forced to call her parents and tell them she had run away Starved and malnutrition Fed cockroaches to eat and urine to drink Forced to masturbate Forced to strip in front of others B...

It is often fascinating to watch international politics play out, the method by which countries trying to act as saints when they are the devils that run rampant, and yet at the end of the day world order wins, the country with the mightiest muscles win to dictate to weaklings how they should behave. While these big countries try to let time heal the catastrophes they have committed in hopes that it would soon be forgotten from history books, more often than not it catches up to them, like waking sleeping dogs. This was the case in the wake of Malaysia Airline flight MH17, which was shot down either by Russian or separatist rebels  in Ukraine. In midst of this there have been calls into a full investigation in to what transpired in that doomsday attack. However, this brought back events which happened almost 2 decades ago when the Iranian Air flight 665 was shot down by the U.S Navy guide missile cruiser back in 3rd July 1988. The flight took off from the airport at 10:27 a.m I...

Embarking on doing an internship right after the graduation seemed like an excellent idea, I figured that by the end of the day I would be exhausted from working the usual hours from 8-5. I even figured that I was probably going to hate working just from the sheer exhaustion I was going to experience. Two days into the job and I am happy to say that I was wrong. While people around me seems to be running around making important documents, getting them signed and the routine office chaos, here I am, just starring up at the ceiling admiring it's well thought designs. Yes this is perhaps the ideal way to work where you get paid even though you do not work. It is perfect except for the occasional hunger pangs that I seem to experience. Literally doing nothing can really work up a guy's appetite, but at least they serve tea to counter the effect, so it really is not that bad. I do however feel bad for the people around me since they seem to be working really hard to achieve ...

Sinhalese, as a race, is very proud. Proud of their heritage, culture and of their identity but sometimes we become so enthralled in our identity as Sinhalese that we often forget that  there are other races that occupy this pearl of the Indian Ocean which is trying to put its mark on the map as the wonder of Asia. Our history repeatedly shows that we allow the ugly head of racism to be raised, from the very inception of our independence, as a nation we have over and over again exacerbated racial differences that exist resulting in people preaching and practicing racism. My mother for example is a racist, not the extreme kind of racist where she goes and perform malicious acts on other races. No, she is not that extreme in fact, she is very friendly to everyone of all races and religions and even welcomes my friends and treats them as equals. But she does say things that can often be categorized as racism, be it by comparing the increasing population of Muslims or about Tamil pol...

Well it is safe to say that I'm done with law school and after a much deserved vacation in the misty mountains of Dumbulla, I am back in Colombo. And by god isn't it hot. But it is now the time to reflect on the past three years of shackles that I wore in the form of law school. For the most part I'm quite happy that it has come to an end, specially of the hectic schedule of lectures and assignments. The daunting mornings in which I had to drag myself out of the bed just to get to lectures on time (even though I always get to my lecture 15 minutes late), the mammoth reading that had to be done. A law students life is not easy but it does provide you with a great set of skills, which I have no doubt will come in handy. While I'm glad for all these reasons and more there is still a part of me that is a bit sad. End of law school means I meet the friends that I made on a daily basis and I have to say that I think I met my true friends in college rather than school. I...

I'm not the biggest fan of cricket, if you asked me about all the great players of recent history of cricket I really wouldn't know. I don't even know how to properly play the game but that doesn't stop me from watching my home team playing in the different world cups. But beyond the joy of watching your national team win, cricket has a magic of its own, a magic that simply seems to amaze me every time there is a major match. Cricket has the power to bring people together, it allows people to forget their cast, creed, problems and allow people to be together, to be known as one country supporting their national team. It heals the wounds that are let to fester and this is exactly what needs to happen in a country which has undergone a 3 decade civil war. It is absolutely heartening to watch a tiny nation in the Indian ocean erupt into jubilation when a world cup is won. The cheers that follow when we get a wicket or a six and also the sadness that follows when one ...