Do nots and Donuts ~ 1

When you are a Sri Lankan specially a teenage Sri Lankan there are so many things that you just do not do. Those things, they... they never happen in a Sri Lankan household. Whether it be talking about sex or talking good about the political party that your grandpa does not support, always the unnecessary conversations are frowned upon.

But these aforesaid things, if they are committed by their crackhead teenage son are forgivable. They called it "hadena wayasane" that's how they are at that age anyways.

The reason why these things are forgivable is because there are greater sins compared to them. To simply put it, speaking about any modern bullshit that the Western media had forced upon you can guarantee you a permanent place in a basement.
Not that Sri Lankan houses have basements though. But you get the idea.

And one of the most forbidden would be to speak up about lgbtq+ rights. It would not be an exaggeration to say that lgbtq hatred is not that big of an issue here, not because Sri Lankans are none-homophobics but because they simply refuse to acknowledge the presence of lgbtq community.

When you are a Sri Lankan child your list of "not to do's" are almost double the length of your "to do's".

If you are a Sri Lankan child that is born to a so called Sinhala Buddhist family there is a high chance that you may not even have a to do list. IT'S ALL NOT TO DO'S.

Don't scream.
Don't laugh.
Don't yell.
Don't run.
Don't be loud.
Don't talk back.
Don't just sit and stare.
Don't be hyperactive either.
Don't have sex.
Don't open up to people about your mental heath because......

Because, "What would people say about you!". The golden phrase holds a dear place in every Sri Lankan adult's heart when it comes to "correcting" children.

And it is completely irrelevant of they are having a fight with each other.

And if you are from Kandy and belongs to a Sinhala Buddhist family then let me send you my prayers!

Because damn! How is the life up there?
(quite literally though!
- A/N- it's hill country)

If you asked that question from our protagonist Nethuka he would reply, "Well, I lived in Kandy until I was ten so I don't really remember much. But I do love the climate there". And give you a heart warming smile.

Born in Kandy Nethuka had a fantastic childhood. His father worked full time as at a bakery somewhere that he had never been in Colombo and his mother was either busy learning how to sew or taking care of Nethuka's cousins who were much younger that lived in the same house as him. Their grandparent's house, otherwise known as "mahagedara".

His biggest memories about his life in Kandy were tightly knitted with his grandpa's younger brother. Who for some reason was unmarried and lived with them.

"Seeya" was what he called him. And Seeya did not have that many things to do in the house. He woke up earlier than everyone and took the cows that belonged to their neighbour to the paddy. It was not his job but something he did out of friendship. And their neighbours would oftentimes gift him a bottle of milk for that. And four year old Nethuka would always wait until he returns because he brought him guavas!

Not the sour green ones that made him shrink his mouth and eyes close while his salivary glands bursted but the sweet juicy yellow ones that had pink flesh inside.

He loved devouring on them until his grandmother called him for breakfast.

Breakfast at that house was nothing but a war. It's either the kids did not want to eat or they wanted 'equal rights'.

"Achchi Amma you gave him a bigger bite!"

"Her one had more curry in it!"

"I don't want Karavila in my bite! Nooooo"

Yadi yadi and yadi yada!

Nethuka of course never fought. Why couldn't they go and have a plate of their own? He thought.

Just like he did.

He would oftentimes watch his cousins fight as he comfortably sat on the left side corner of the doorstep of their "Mahagedara", their grandparents house.

But that was many years ago. More than ten years ago. And now that Nethuka sat there on the same doorstep wearing all white he found it difficult to move. The steps were all of a sudden too small for him to sit comfortably.

He had grown so much. So much physically and more than that as a person. From a mere child to a grown teenager.

He watched people that walked passing him from in and out of the kitchen with a tinge of guilt in his heart. He did not do or had not done anything wrong though. It was because there was a big dana at their "magagedara" and he had no idea how he could help. So he just sat there waiting for someone to ask him help.

It was given in the memory of his late grandpa who passed away in a heart attack five years ago when Nethuka was barely eleven.

It was so early in the morning that one could barely see the sunlight. The kitchen was warm from the heat from the fire and the giant cooking vessels that were steaming up. But for Nethuka who sat next to the door that opened to the paddy fields, the air was cold. The ambiance was bluish grey as the sun was yet to creep in. One did not have to listen attentively to hear the crickets that were singing. In that sense things were noisy. Yet at the same time it was so calming and soothing.

The greyish blue of the environment that had falled above everything that surrounded Nethuka thickened in to a blackness as it reached the forest that was behind it.

And despite waking up at this time everyday to go for classes and school Nethuka was feeling sleepy and drowsy. The cold weather in Kandy was to be blamed for that.

Tears filled his eyes as he threw his head back to yawn. Not because he hit his head in the doorframe but because he was feeling lethargic like a sloth.

A short sleeved white shirt that was made out of a thin material, so thin that one could see his undershirt was not ideal for the weather. But he had nothing else that was white to wear. It was a two day trip to Kandy and he knew his dad would make him go to school the day after they get to Colombo.

Ordinary Level exam was a curse. There were so many things to do. So many different things coming in at the same time that Nethuka just did not want to process.

The wind that brushed against his cheeks that felt frozen and stiff carried an aroma of freshly cooked rice and curries. The steam from the giant cooking vessels was so thick that he could barely see the woman that was behind stirring it.

Nethuka watched the moths that flew in to the kitchen and gathered around the orange light bulbs. And he could not help but to laugh as the women in the kitchen complained about it.

"If I saw yet another moth falling in to the dhal curry for real I would spray them to death." That was the woman behind the thick steam.

"You can't spray pesticides in the kitchen!", was another.

Nethuka's mouth burned to say, "Aren't you all Buddhists? You are not supposed to harm innocent animanls! And we are having a DANA in the house today. How could you even think of something like that?"

But he had learned his lesson well and knew not to speak of anything out of ordinary with the adults or anyone that he knew would disagree with him.

With time he had learned that changing other people's opinions was not his superpower and a waste of time. Something he failed miserably at.

"Can someone put a lid on it?" Grandma walked in and commanded solving the problem.

And she looked at Nethuka and said "Nethu! Putha what are you doing in the kitchen with all these women? Go help Lokki to arrange the sweets. Monks are coming in at eight thirty, everything should be ready before that!"

Nethuka sprung up from his place and hurried past his grandmother that patted his shoulder as he walked by.

(1428 words)

Hay Snowdrops!
How is life?

Mine is confused, excited and baffled cuz Hybe just came to wattpad and left.

Vote if you doted what I wrote!
A new chapter will be coming soon!