Doodles
The book coughed out dust, as the table lamp spilled light into the room. I take a deep breath. My eyes peer upon the labyrinth of an incomprehensible forest of xs and ys and the mystical world of algebra.

An eerie dreariness clouded my mind. Quadratic terms imminently waiting for parenthesis. With the wave of my pen,hypotenuse-less triangles swim in a sea of confusion; giving birth to a salvo of metallic murderers, that pierce the Sinhalese ego and cripple the Tamil’s confidence. Those were tough times. We prayed and prayed, not knowing if we’ll live another day. Just like any equation, we were equal. Yet anger grew into hatred, that grew into blood. The police look the other way, as blood, encapsulated the road. Those were tough times. For history has taught us to live another day. If only the simplification of our problems; If only the simplification of the fact, that we are all human; If only peace relied on: putting the Sinhalese and the Tamil in one parenthesis… If only…
Exponential equations, triggered my brain’s inevitable demise. With the wave of my pen, a stick figure slides down an exponent. Powers in the east, they are called. Two political powers. Conflict. When you were alone, and the 1980s air grew cold, a deafening silence loomed, as terror silently whispers your doom. Wijeweera’s shadow was always there, behind your closet, under your bed. Watching you. Controlling you. Everyday you had prayed, that it wasn’t your child’s school today. Brain-washing 13 year olds to an army of political robots. I thank history, For history has let us live another day. Yet I wonder: if only the solution to solve the conflict, was a multiplication away, To bring the JVP and the Sinhalese to the same base. If only…
A crisp wind of nostalgia slithers near a trigonomic wave function . With the wave of my pen, a certain quadrilateral borders the flurry of pulses. Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! BEEP! And soon a deafening silence. Those hearts from Anuradhapura, stung by a thorn grown in their field. Thorns nurtured by their killers, For it not only kills pests, but its father also. It had permeated to the liquid of life. It was hemlock, a suicide, again. If only plotting a new pulse was a calculator button and a pencil line away, If only…
The silent cries of crisis, erupt into a pandemonium of logarithmic equations. With the wave of my hand, a crumpled tree bark weeps. Oh god, why did we have to destroy its family??? Can’t portcity wait? Salvador Dali could never depict them better, their silent screams of terror, that we closed our ears to. It’s horrific. If only the addition of man and nature was only a multiplication, away. If only…
Enough fun, for as Frost said I have promises to keep. My might think it would be strange, to scribble over some algebraic exercises. Yet I know it whispers my fate. Soon, I shall grow, to my turn to save the country. For I have a promise to keep. And I have responsibilities to heave. And I have mistakes to correct, to uphold Sri Lankan integrity, today and forever with the power of education.

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Theme 2: Education towards a fairer future