දැනුත් ඔබ මා නොහඳුනයි නම්

දැනුත් ඔබ මා නොහඳුනයි නම්

සොඳුර යලි එය සිදු නොවේවි...

එක්ව පසු කල සියලු දේ මැද

දුටු විලස මා ඔබ දයාවියෙ

හැඳින යුතු නොවේද ඔබ මා?

හරි වැරදි දේ අතර ඇති ඒ

වෙනස මා හඳුනන නිසාවෙන්

කැදැල්ලේ රැඳි සතුට කෙලෙසන 

කිසිත් නොකරමි දිවි තුරාවට

රැයේ තුන්යම ගෙවුනු කල මා

නිවෙස වෙත පැමිණෙනා විටදී

එපා කැලඹුණු විලස සිටිනට

දබර කර කලබලව දඟලන

ළමුන් සේ හැසිරෙන්නේ ඇයි අප?

දැනුත් ඔබ මා නොහඳුනයි නම්

සොඳුර යලි එය සිදු නොවේවි...

හැමෝටම ඇති නොහොඹිණා ගති

මා පෙලයි, ඔබටත් එසේමය

නිසැක ලෙස ඔබ මා හදවතේ 

ලැගුම්ගෙන සිටිනා විලාසෙන්

දිවි ගෙවූ කාලයේ තරමට

මා කෙරේ සැක නැතිව හිඳිනට

අසීරුද සොඳුරියේ මෙපමණ?

හිතට දහිරිය ගන්න සොඳුරියෙ

නොහැකි නම් වෙන්ව යා යුතුමය

නෙතට නෙත හමුනොවන තැන ඇති

ආල අන්දරයේ ඵලය කිම?

දැනුත් ඔබ මා නොහඳුනයි නම්

සොඳුර යලි එය සිදු නොවේවි...

Simply Red ගායක කණ්ඩායමේ ‘If you don’t know me by now’ ගීතයේ පද වැල ඇසුරෙනි.

හැමවිට ඇය ගැහැණියකි මට

සිනහවෙන්ම ඔබව නසා

බැල්ම හෙලා ඔබ රිදවා

මුසා බස් දොඩා බිඳ ඔබ

අවැසි දේම පමණක් කී

ඈ දරුවෙක් මෙන් හැංගෙන

මුත් මට නම් ගැහැණියකි

ආදරයෙන් ගෙන යන්නත්

සමග රැඳී හැර යන්නත්

ඇත්තම ඉල්ලා සිටිමින්

ඔබ කී දේ නොපිලිගන්න

හපනෙකි ඈ සැමවිටමත්

නොමිලේ දෙන දේ ගන්නත්

චෞර රැජින සේ වන්නත්

ඈ හට හැකි නමුත් මෙමට

හැමවිට ඇය ගැහැණියකි

තමන් ගැනම සැලකිල්ලක්

දක්වන ඇය හිතුමතේට

නවතින්නට හෝ හැකි විට

කාලයටත් ඉදිරියෙනි

කිසිවක් කිසිවෙකු හට පිට

නොකරන ඇය කොයි විටකත්

අන් අයෙකුට නොදෙවෙනි වන

ලෙස තම සිත වෙනස් කරයි

දිවHqද්‍යානයට වඩා වැඩියෙන්

ඈ පොරොන්දු වී

සැලකිල්ලෙන් තොර ඔබ සිඳ

ලේ ගලනායුරු බල බල

සිනහ වෙවී සිටිනා මුත්

ඔබ තුල ඇති හොඳ මෙන්

ඔබ තුල නිදනා රකුසන් වුව

අවදි කරන ඇය සැමදා

ගැහැණියක්ම ලෙසින් මෙමට

පෙනෙන නිසා සොහොයුර එම

වැරදි වලට ඔබටම දොස්

පවරා ගනු කාරුණිකව

නිතරම ඇය කාරුණිකයි

එවිගස සැහැසිකම් දරයි

අල්ලේ නැටවෙන නොහැඩයි

තම හිතුමතයට වැඩකර

ඈ කිසිදා යම් දෙයකට

වැරදිකාරි කියා ඔබට

දඬුවම් කල නොහැකි හැඩයි

උපාධියද උපයා ඇති

ඈ හැකි හැම විටකදීම

අවඥා වදන් ඔබ වෙත

යොමු කරනාමුත් ඈ මට

සැමවිටකම ගැහැණියකි

බිලී ජෝඑල් ගායකයාගේ ‘She’s Always a Woman to Me’ ගීය ඇසුරෙන්

Learning from the 'Symbolic Other' : reading Spielberg's filmatic representation of 'War Horse'

Spielberg’s filmatic adaptation of Michael Morpugo‘s novel War Horse is an emblematic representation of the immaculate atrocities of World War I. The impact of the film and its ability to touch our hearts is due to the undeniable, raw view point of the war and the emotions surrounding it from the perspective of Joey, the horse. Unsaid by humans, and generating from a beast, the catharsis and the purgation of emotions (quoting Aristotelian philosophy) have a larger emphasis on the message connoted on humans. The speculation of the ego of man in war and the reflection in the Lacanian ‘mirror stage’ is transmitted via Joey’s image. This image derives man his identification of his position in war and its dialectics. Hence, the Symbolic and the Real are fearfully synonymous in Joey, the horse. The realization of this truth outside what is obvious is a very Zizekian interpretation of Lacanian theory. For Zizek, the truth of ourselves lies outside ourselves in the Symbolic and the Real, rather than being buried deep within us. Hence, the power of a horse to generate the effect, and thanks to Spielbergian effects, the impact of the novel is immense.

The film and its story touch a fundamental Lacanian realization: that self-realization is impossible from within. It is Joey, who symbolically draws man towards the realization of the futility of war, by showing how he touches the souls of all who come in contact: the British, German and the French. Human boundaries are then shown to be translatable via the symbolic identity of a horse. Joey’s travels, hardships and encounters in the war, his attachment to his fellow horse (Topthorn) and his love for Albert, the young man who bred Joey to adulthood and whom he never forgets elevates Joey into an almost human-like status. The human emotions that are stirred through Joey’s life and the human capability of all the different owners through which he passes through destabilizes what was then known of the war and brings us to a realization of its Ideology from the perspective of what we actually do. This is Zizek’s basic presumption of Ideology; that it is actually a construct of what we do and not of what is already known. In the face of this innovative approach, Althusser’s Ideological State Apparatus of a subject as being always already identified, becomes a destabilized and archaic notion for us who live in a post-ideological era, and what matters is what we do, not what is already known. Hence, the appropriation of Zizek’s book title to read as ‘for they know not what they did’ in World War I remains an iconic realization of the self via Joey, the symbolic other.

The Cycle of Life

The rising sun- and it must set

and scours the dark to where it rises;

it has its ordained course to run,

and that it does with no surprises.

The winds will blow and sometimes roar

southwards, northwards, coursing free,

for this the cycle of all life

and who will call it mystery?

The streams will meet the snaking paths

of rivers racing to the sea,

a commingling of green and blue,

waves and ripples ever free.

This the cycle of all life,

and this the way ‘twill always be.

And we, the dwellers of the land

think we own eternity!

Do we pause to think our

ancestors breathed upon this terrain?

So will we be just forgotten

by our own coming generations.

This Earth, this Gala, will remain

while we will shout over lost terrain-

conflict, hatred, wars to fight,

exulting as the cities die.

Do we think of the cruel past?

The fall of empires, no lesson learn,

slaughtering our kind, we live

triumphant as the tropics burn.

And others will replace the dead

while souls forgotten anguished moan.

A life in cycles will go on,

the starving children, widows groan.

And what has been this history?

A tone of human misery?

What’s done will once again be done,

life’s cycle! not some sorcery!

Killers, you!

You robbed me on my land

this land of inspiration

my name my education

you signed with termination

The Lady’s blind in justice

she’s caught in your hypnosis

her scales are down one-sided

and heeds only your whispers

Everybody bleating CHOGM

CHOGM youth, CHOGM this and CHOGM that

why this farce of a nation

where injustice cleans like saffron?

You play mighty God

you give life or death

you just swish your wand

and you just give or take

I have just to dance

my feet to you piper tune

and dance like a hellish dunce

in your Cameroon

The Blind Lady sees not you

but I the ‘criminal’

signed to my fate

by your tribunal

My blood, my sweat, the truth

is heavier than your guilt

It shall on earth be told

before you dust to earth. 

Deception

‘Like a bubble is sensation,

like a mirage is perception’

the noble words then question

if what’s seen and felt’s illusion.

Love’s just a placid feeling

that covers up in icing

the rotten cake of reason

and continues its treason

For greed and taste of power

in government high position

injustices do happen

no comfort in position

In bright expensive shirts

sits the beggar on the roadside

humped on a milestone

with his legs amputated

Commuters out of sympathy

give him big notes of money

rumours said he earned a living

from the interest of money-lending

Life’s just a bloody fiasco

a pretentious existence

garrulous women in their make-up

clean suit men forging an attitude

Deception works both ways-

for in cheating on the other

only the self is in deceit

with no firm ground underneath

It’s all but a gladiator’s game

not in Greek but Modern Times

the result remains the same-

in combat you live, if not you die.

An elegy to my students

I still remember when doors were opened

the way you sat in those very chairs

the places you sat in the same old manner

to listen to many yarns retold

Of stories down to the neo-modern

all unraveled in three long years   

It must have felt so nonsensical

you struggled hard to understand

But behind it all it simply meant

just open up to the self within

to see things as they really are

and reach for heights unimagined

To seek the truth in all aspects

Literature is life, nothing more or less

undergrad life- it only tapped

what was inside you all way through

But how I grieve to see the card

that wishes me on Teacher’s Day

sent with thoughts you never said

as you say while you were here

It made me think how I have failed

Sadly your ‘thank you’ I can’t take

but I’ll keep the card at eye’s length

to strive to do better for many other.

.=re .S;h

f,dj W.;=ka mçjreka

;ekqfõ mdie, ;=<ska

Ys,am i;r ÿka neúka

j¢uq wfma .=re ujqka

fmd; m; f;areï lrhs

bf.kqugu osrs fojhs

fyd| .=Kj;A isiq <uhs

.=rejrekg ysi kuhs

bf.kSug wu;rj ;a

hym;a foa .=K Orau ;a

msrsmqka f,i hyu.g ;a

f.k hkq uek bosrshg;a

l< fyd| foa meiiSu hs

we;s jrola fmkaùu hs

fï l< W;=ï fiajhg hs

wms Tnyg Kh .e;su hs

ujqmshkg fojkq j

wm fk; is; mEÿ j

l< tA msk iq¿ fkd j

u;= iekfihs ksiel j

yo ;=< msms ne;s u,

.=re ujqkf. mduq,

i;=gq is;ska mqol,

wms fjuq Tfn isiq le,

oi foi ieu hy.=fKA

úÿy, ;=< me;srefKA

.=re ujqkf. iu.=fKA

w.huq fï .=re osfka