Fantasies have to be unrealistic...

I was removing my eyes away from the movie The Life of David Gale, lets say a moment before;) , which made me think of some Lacanian theories of desire and fantasy.

Some movies have that quality of inspiring minds into deep subject matters such as psychoanalysis, I was wondering at the moment of seeing the Basic Instinct part II , few years ago, reminded me the same. In fact some dialogs were saying it is Lacanian itself! :D

Here I will emphasize the point adopted from the subtitle file, please go ahead.

“Come on. Think.”
Lecturer David Gail walks across the class room and arrives the front.
“I want you to reach back into those minds and tell me, tell us all...”
“What is it that you fantasize about?
World peace? I thought so.”
Class laughs loud.
“Do you fantasize about international fame?
Do you fantasize about winning a Pulitzer Prize?
Or a Nobel Peace Prize?
An MTV Music Award?
Do you fantasize about meeting some genius hunk, ostensibly bad...but secretly simmering with noble passion...and willing to sleep on the wet spot?”
A student answers gloriously.
“I'll take two! I'll take two! “
“What was that?”
“Kimberly will take two.”
“You get Lacan's point. Fantasies have to be unrealistic...because the moment... the second... that you get what you don' can't want it anymore. In order to continue to exist...desire must have its objects perpetually absent. It's not the "it" that you want. It's the fantasy of "it". So, desire supports crazy fantasies.”
An interruption by a student who is entering into the class.
David continues..
“This is what Pascal means when he says that we are only truly happy...when daydreaming about future happiness.”
One neighbor student to the last one who came late shows a letter.
“It came today.”
“Or why we say...the hunt is sweeter than the kill.Or be careful what you wish for, not because you'll get it...but because you're doomed not to want it once you do.So the lesson of Lacan is, living by your wants will never make you happy.”
“What it means to be fully human is to strive to live by ideas and ideals...”
“And not to measure your life by what you've attained in terms of your desires...but those small moments of integrity, compassion...rationality, even self-sacrifice.”
“Because in the end, the only way that we can measure the significance of our own by valuing the lives of others.”

I was really surprising seeing the abstractions from Lacan’s theories into this masterpiece of film work, that gives whole a damn picture of twisted from top to bottom arousing fantasmatic fragments of minute pleasure of the cinematic text.

Here I would like recommend you to watch the movie and get into the nucleus of the Lacanian subject.;)

By the way I have finished reading some of the novels listed for the state literary award for the last year[2009].

The award for the best novel was won by Kandak Sema [A mountain alike] by Sumithra Rahubadda, which was written in the subject of a inter cultural marriage of which happen between a Sinhalese woman and a Japanese old farmer. Literally the novel has not much succeeded but as a theme it conquers a land which is rarely pin pointed by rest recently, and a social issue which took part in the recent history nevertheless a minor form. Due to the socio economic diversities currently happening around the country has made lot of opportunities related with overseas affairs in multi lateral points of various disciplines such as international business opportunities, employment and inter cultural marriages and mostly opening the markets for production based on cheap labor and competitive releases of taxes and lower infrastructure costs in the region.

Due to this paradigmatic liberalized states of social exposure to the world had made unforeseen situations to arise in various sectors of the society. This novel also focused on a similar situation raised in the nuclear aspects of the asian family and its values in different asian cultures [hear between Japan and Sri Lanka]and is fabricated in the novel how it affects female, basically in the female point of view which is primarily governed by the oedipal forces of mind.

Back page of "Denethra "
We are fortunate to enjoy two debut anthologies in this year, making a remarkable astonishment in our mind, significantly giving a hope in future of each direction of literature.

One is a short story anthology which was written by Nedimale Hector, the so called short story anthology Denethra [Two Eyes], and poetry anthology by Mahinda Prasad Masimbula, the Hiruth Hima Piyallaka,[Sun also in a snow flake].

I would like to show off one poem from Mahinda’s book. This has been translated by Malathi Kalpana Ambrose, which is written originally in Sinhalese.


In that glamorous twilight
As I came to see you
I sensed I was convinced
It was only *Galaha Road
The biggest road in the world …

It was the day
The biggest rain drop in the world
Ever fell on to the earth

Three storied, enormous
The biggest university in the world
Was floating in a massive misty flow
I sent you the biggest massage
In the world ever sent
“I am hear to see you”

With the fastest walk in the world
You drifted towards me
The sparkling face and painted with
The most gorgeous smile in the world

Cleared the solitude together
We set up the biggest moment in the world
So then started to flow
The largest river in the world
Filled with love
Touching the bottom of our hearts

Then came the biggest obstacles
The walls of separation
Built up in the between
There were no doorways
On the top of those walls
There placed the biggest thorns in the world

Amongst all the biggest
Souvenirs and statues
I still sense and feel
I am the smallest in the world…

Mahinda Prasad Masimbula
Translated by Kalpana Malathi Ambrose

*Galaha road is the road driven to the University of Peradeniya.

I have just finished reading of Indiyawa- Shoonya Seweem [in pursuance of null in India] which was written by Eric Eliyapparachchi, a veteran literary critic in Sri Lanka.

It is a kind of travel literature book which author has written about his experience and the places he visited during his assignment in India.

He has colored the essays with large amounts of abstracts from books relevant. Each and every chapter is filled with awesome details in history of India in very readable format with great style and form of each chapter. One can get a snapshot view of Indian Music or Cinema or Media in general or situations of recent past in politics or activities with a quick glance where everything is obviously covered in these 180 pages compactly. I enjoyed it a lot.

One final thing , Boodee is about to start an academic institute, so here you can read about that too… this is for the people who are interested in creative commercial works. Whatever,...

Introducing Lacan

To Whom It May Concern, this is a link for downloading "Introducing Lacan" for Beginners.

Or buy it here:

Deconstructing Harry

Deconstructing Harry
A Pure Fiction

X: Don't fuck-up with politics and poetry.

Y: don’t fuck poets either and get double fucked!

X: Remember Plato’s idea about poets. Poets are searching there true self. That true self is false one. Read poetry of Radovan Karadzic. You find something horrible. Killer of masses can be good poets.

Y: "poets are searching there true self. That true self is false one. "

Hey man, what science is for? Though sciences find true things? [You are terrific moron!] Why looking at poets? Let poets do what they feel and you fuckers keep your tastes with yourselves.

I don’t understand even this crap " killer of masses can be good poets" seem to me you’re fucked up with totally misunderstood endless books or something totally gone wrong somewhere, pls check your credit cards!

If I need to be platonic, it is up to me,, I don’t want you to teach me what i shall read or do. Take some medicine man, ...

X: That is what I wanted. Be your boss of yourself. Trust no one. Deny toxic knowledge. Don't get panic. I will deconstruct your Boondi translations VERY SOON. Those are wrong in many sense.




X: Thanks.

Y: "Deny toxic knowledge."


X: I told you earlier that kindly poet's becomes evil beings. Now you already prove that. Darling i will show how you made mistakes in your Sinhala translations. For example- is it correct to translate phenomenology as sansidhimaya. According to your translation Stalinism is harsher than Nazism in Zizek. Is it correct? I do not want TO destroy you. Please study properly before translates anything. Don't be a tabloid translator.

Y: Why poets can’t become evil in this world as you start this dialogue in a filthy manner stating "Don't fuck-up with politics and poetry.” is that the phenomenological output come from you conscious mind to criticize what I am doing now? In that case I am also consuming the same rights to respond you the way you depict.

Zizek's matter: it is what he has mentioned in his interview. Though he might have different analogies as well, but that was his spontaneous reaction to the said question.

don’t think destroying anybody even though excluding myself by your words, but be mannered and know your limits when you accessing people anywhere in this cyber space, nobody will trust mythical creatures suddenly appear on cyber space, as you claimed before, it is true that I never trust anyone here to accept there opinions in such a way propagating to me. I am using net for last ... I am using net since 1996 so I have enough experience to avoid crazy characters appearing to download their very sickness on to us for their phantasm oriented pleasures.

if you are serious about correcting what ever I have written that is just for the sake of readers not to deconstruct me or something else, if in either direction happens it is just totally upside down story. If so it shows your understanding on deconstruction as you believe it, is the final threat you can throw into someone to stop him or terrorize him. It is "ok" for the guys who are not having gone through the original works of what deconstruction means or as a tool what the extremities that it has operable, not for me or my studies. I haven’t done any philosophical work here to deconstruct by any one or no one.

all I have written is to just put some attempt to initiate some lateral thinking on poor readers who are caged on Sinhala only reading, if and only if that prevails, I wrote though more or less perfect writings doesn’t mean to be attacked in a such way, but to rectify the shortcomings with some gratitude towards the humble readers. Even though i can retain myself without doing any damn thing or without sparing some labor onto these translations, but I committed myself to do something even though nobody is attempting such in this space, [have you done anything in Boondi to hail the reader's knowledge what you preached me that I hate toxicity or what ...?] That is the fact you have missed at the end of the day.

Criticizing is essential but do something to enlarge the minds of others, just without trying being some pioneers to self or becoming theoreticians to kill opponents throwing words or writing word games to prove or disapprove enigmas and becoming daydreamers.

Nobody has done anything perfect since ever.

few last things, I want to acknowledge you that I am not a poet in any sense of what you are thinking of or else and I don’t want to exchange ideas with anonymous characters , it is a total waste of my time, hence do not expect anymore messages through this contact.

There exist a commenting facility for each and every post at Boondi site; you can express any of your comments except filthy lines, which will be deleted of course we are running a parallel site for kids as well.

For constructive comments, no one needs to get prior consent from the authors or the translators for the sake of the reader’s goodness.

If you have consciousness to express something for the Sri Lankan readers at Boondi, you are welcome to write your ideas as articles or what ever the form you desire.

X: ok.. Goodbye .

p.s. This is a pure fictional story; no character or event having any resemblence with past or future of actual events and people.

Seven Dreams By: Ajith C Herath

Today I will post here a strange thing as conflicting so far though I was continuing with many misunderstood words and contexts related posts till the last one about high definition matrix of the human eye. This poem is by Ajith C Herath, a veteran revolutionist and critical poet in our time. He depicts the reality of the struggle in Sri Lanka for the last forty years since Sri Lanka was conceived the Marxist specters of armed struggle since radical revolutionary party the so called JVP, Janatha Vimukthi Peramuna or the People’s Liberation Front, proclaimed two unsuccessful revolutions in the island since its origin in late sixties. At the mid of the seventies the North Eastern Tamil people were engulfed into a similar attempt towards their liberation through another armed struggle headed by Tamil revolutionaries called Liberation Tamil Tigers of Elam, LTTE.

This poem depicts the final realm both of these struggles had to face in the capitalistic regimes.

Seven Dreams

First Dream -You never noticed

I was falling
from unimaginable points of infinity.
Mucky water surged
through the streets of the city.
Moments before I fell
On to the water,
I woke up an infant
In a cradle floating among debris.
I passed men and women
Smiling and waving at me,
Wading through muddy water,
Gathering up their clothes.

When the cradle toppled
Into a sewer,
I leaned out,
Shivering and unbearably cold
I crawled out of the cradle
Eagerly following you,
But you never noticed!
Suddenly, someone grabbed me
and threw me back into the surge.
Once again I was falling and falling.
Just before hitting the ground,
I felt I was waking up.

Second Dream –Your kiss did not lift the curse I was suffering

the rain was endless.
You stared out of the window.
The mist from your breath
blurred the Knuckles1 mountain range.

I was falling asleep,
knocked out by chloroform,
when I woke up
from a tear slipping out of your eye.
Stretched out on the dissecting table
I stared at you.

Once, for the last time,
You held me gently and kissed me,
Opened the window and dumped me out,
Then left the science lab
Never to return to school.
And your kiss never lifted the curse I suffered,
Nor did I ever wake up, before falling.

Third Dream - The bridge that could not be conquered

Naked they made you kneel down on the bridge,
Tightened your hands on your back.
To save your life,
I screamed and scraped the earth
For the last rifle none of you ever revealed.
It had carved itself underground;
I could not find it!
Corpses were floating downstream.
Whenever I pass this bridge,
I fall into the waters with a wounded heart.
I am still falling.

Forth Dream - I saw the blue skies and the clouds

sitting on a rotten plank bed
under a passion fruit hedge in the detention camp
I was thinking of ways to escape.
Softly you whispered into my ear
that digging a tunnel
I might be able to see
yet another blue sky with white clouds
beyond a range of seven mountains and large forests.

When the public well was abandoned
And the water was calm at noon,
I sat on the rim of the well
And looking down
Found that tunnel.
The bottomless well revealed
Yet another blue sky and white clouds
From the other end of the earth,
And you stared at me through my own eyes.

Ere the images faded:
Blue sky, white clouds and your face,
I wanted to flee through the well
Before the waters were ruffled
By buckets of detainees by the dozen.
Again. Through an endless hole
I was falling towards the blue sky.

Fifth Dream - Blue tarpaulin pyre

When the cradle was burning
Along with the camp hut of blue tarpaulin,
You came out crawling
Your tiny hands and legs burnt,
As I was helplessly watching
Your fearful struggle.
Once, for an instant, our eyes met.
I will never know, if you noticed.
You passed fossilized me,
Fell into a ditch
And disappeared amongst
Dead bodies and smoke …
The ditch that protected you
Was leveled into a tomb by bulldozers.
As they faded into the distance
All I could see was that tiny hand
Above the sands.

Sixth Dream - As I was late, I missed you forever

I woke up in sorrowful vigilance.
Unaware, if it was early or late.
It was still dark.
All of a sudden, a feeling persisted
that someone somewhere was waiting for me.
Who and where was uncertain,
At times it might have been you.
The days ahead, the tasks and appointments,
Were torn off the calendar.
Only the months and days that had passed are remaining …

Walking along the A-9 road,
I cleared the last military checkpoint,
Yet nowhere could I see you.
As I was late,
I did not know if you had left.
I was in the Vanni2, but you were not there.
So I was sitting on the doorstep
Of a house in ruins
Waiting with your half of the cigarette …

Seventh Dream - The past shattered and floated away

Once the search operation had been completed,
The soldiers left.
And in the demolished room I found
our group’s last portrait
Torn into shreds.
Lingering on those time-faded scattered pieces
was our smile
of the last moments we spent together
Just before going our ways
towards unknown destinies.
I placed the pieces on the window sill
wanting to mend them.
A sudden mysterious wind
stirred them up.
Piece by piece they scattered
with the last autumn leaves
Moving to sites far away.
We had become tiny pieces of paper
tumbling away in the wind.

Reflections on the Metamorphoses

lying on a bed early at dawn,
listening to the song of a bird
Is a dream
which may collapse from a fatal scream
in yet another dream.

Who are you?
Dream by dream …
You follow me, while I follow you
and before we can meet
you escape
only to reappear in different form.
Who are you?

Who are we?
Following each other, escaping each other again
through the mountains, valleys and meadows
that once we crossed.
Who are we?
Thousands of metamorphoses in a single soul,
Thousands of souls in a single shape.

Even now,
I can not distinguish myself from you,
As I cannot tell you apart from the others.
You are the prime universal matter,
while I am but the reflector.

With the second wave,
the corpses were flushed out to sea
and the swords were cleaned.
Everything but the difference
between the quick and the dead
was washed away…

The nights they want to erase from our memory
knock on the doors
of wrecked houses full of bullet holes.
The dreams that were dreamt
during sleepless nights
now are but short notes in an old diary…
Paths never taken at the junction of indecision
are blurring in the mist of time.

The cheap coffin which held your corpse
was abandoned in the middle of marshland.
Yet I saw people in a procession holding up high
the golden baldachin of the killer.
The deception passed justly unnoticed,
as similar ones had recurred in cycles.

A frog nailed its soul to the dissecting table
Split its chest and took out its heart,
while, its tongue stretched out,
it enjoyed seeing its own blood flow.
“This is my blood which I had long determined
to shed for your liberation.”
From that time on, no-one would ever die of starvation.

The last prayer rising up from the sorrowful darkness
Of Gethsemane3 gardens
did it not echo the holy truth
Revealed from Parileyiya4 jungle during the cold rains?

The harmonious calm of solitude
Experienced in a lonely school building in Bolivia
Or in the cremation chamber of Borella5 Cemetery
Or on the sands of blood-soaked Nandikadaal lagoon6,
Is the same silence remaining
at the far end of the universe
which the human race will never reach
while lugging their bundles of sins.


Freedom can only be sensed
an eternal prisoner
Held in a dream of itself.

My dreams, while unacceptable now,
Remain my reality,
though you have forgotten,
we dreamt those dreams
Together, a long time ago.

If this is a dream
I would love to live that moment
just before falling on to the earth.
If this is life,
I would prefer to roam through my dreams.

Moving freely
through time and space,
I would rather die forever unborn in my dream
than surrender with raised arms
to a compromising dawn.

By: Ajith C Herath
January 2010

English version by Dawson Preethi , Kalpana Ambrose and Karin Clark

1.The Knuckles Mountain Range lies in central Sri Lanka, north-east of the city of Kandy. The range takes its name from a series of recumbent folds and peaks in the west of the massif which resemble the knuckles of clenched fist when viewed from certain locations in the Kandy and Matale Districts.
2. Vanni is the mainland area of Sri Lanka's Northern Province. It is considered as an integral part of the traditional homelands of the Tamil people. For over a decade, it remained under the control of the Tamil liberation fighters who ran a parallel administration. Eventually the Sri Lankan government troops who pursued a scorched earth policy gain control over entire Vanni mainland in 2009, after massacring tens of thousands of Tamil civilians and completely destroying entire villages.
3. Gethsemane is a garden at the foot of the Mount of Olives in Jerusalem most famous as the place where Jesus and his disciples prayed the night before Jesus' crucifixion
4. Parileiya Jungle-In Buddhist literature, Parlileiya jungle is described as a place Lord Buddha chose to live, in order to stay away from his own disciples who fell out with each other.
5. Borella Crematorium-The leader of the People Liberation Front, Rohana Wijeweera, who was captured by the Sri Lankan government troops for leading the second Sinhala youth uprising in Sri Lanka in 1989, was killed and cremated in Borella crematorium. The uprising was crushed by the government troops by massacring over 60,000 Sinhala youth.
6. Nandikadal Lagoon-In May 2009, the final battle between the Sri Lankan government troops and the Tamil liberation fighters took place in the area surrounding Nandikadal lagoon in North of Sri Lanka. It is widely believed that at least 40,000 Tamil civilians were massacred during this massive military onslaught.

The elements of the poem in its fundamental analysis of the reality and its metaphors as dreams has been separated into two major conscious levels which denotes the symbolic and imagery to clear cut the suture of the real. It needs some time to work on to see the deep layers of the poem in each space time continuum of which a total of seven.

Dreams and Photoreceptors

I was awakened by a dream. Suddenly I realized it wasn’t a dream but I have wakened into a dream!

Dreams and Photoreceptors

I don’t know how exactly I have witnessed this dream by my own biological eyes. Just to mention human has an eye made of flesh and nerves connected to the brain, the neural network of nature, which has the capability of distinguishing image data. It works more or less similar to a manmade camera in many senses. Just my belief is human has made a prototype of natural eye using some metals, plastic and electricity. Though we can see images in a flat continuum [say its flat but it isn't at all flat;retina is spherical], I mean we use our eyes to understand images without pixels! Is that a miracle? How we can see things without any distortion or discontinuity even though eye is made of distinct cells that have sensitivity over light in discrete pattern?

Let’s simplify this question.

We can assume the retina, which is sole responsible to convert light signal through some sort of electro chemical reaction into ions that will enable to transport the light data to the brain along the wires of nerves. In this case retina is made of tiny special cells called rods and cones. Both cell types will convert light data into ions which carry signals along the neuron chains.

In this manner rod cells and cone cells will make the surface of retina as a continuum to catch the light image and proportionately transferring those quantum energies into energized electron radicals through the optical nerve. So we sense the imagery data.

My problem is, if these distinct cells or discrete cells arranged over an area must generate light signals individually and those must be acting as separate data loggers hence the image we should sense must be having dots of colors of image parts similar to a printed picture on a newspaper. Because individual light sensing cell produces its own signal and brain is suppose to capture the entire picture by assembling all together. But if this is the process, it is there a chance to reproduce the image as a combination of a data which was generated by individual cells. For example if we have rod and cone cells[these are actually not in the same proportion. Anyway!] in a matrix of 1000x1000 then the image must be having dots or signals of the same 1000x1000 matrix!

wow...this is so mysterious! Is that the Matrix movie all tells about this?

"No.. no... it isn’t, please don’t misinterpret. Matrix is a more general term. Not only the movie itself! ;)"

But in nature we can see objects without the dots of separation so called pixels in digital context.

How can this happen? Are the photo sensitive cells interpolating the missing data at their boundaries through an algorithm who acts in the brains visual area?

Or though we have this nature of discreteness in the seeing objects but we are unable to disintegrate the actual image?

Or are we really getting perception of totally delusional field of light integrated with a seamless color matrix?

My quest finally is whether we involved seeing aspects of retina while we are dreaming?

I was searching some fact sheets available in the web to investigate this phenomenon of the eyes, but I rarely found free content for these areas as shared research papers on the subject. But whatever my argument stands still for the clarity of the resolution of our own human eyes images which should be bound to the limit of the number of rod and cone cells.

If we carefully study the arrangement of the retina we can see these rod and cone cells are discretely organized on the sub surface covered with another membrane of transparent which covers and protect the retina from the internal fluid of the eye which makes the media for the light to travel through the lens to the retina wall.

Retina – A thin multi-layered sensory tissue that lines the back of the eye. The retina contains two types of photoreceptors called rods and cones. Visual information received by the photoreceptors is translated to neural signals by the nerves called ganglion cells. The rods are more abundant in the peripheral retina and work to detect light/dark changes as well as shape and movement. Cones detect color and distinguish fine detail which is why they are denser in the central retina, especially in the fovea.

So it is easy to understand the anatomy of the eye, which shows many details of the eye structure but I want to focus the subject into the retina. So shall I insert another link to pursue the retina in detail?

The human retina contains approximately 120 million rod and 1 million cone photoreceptors. The figure below illustrates that the distribution of photoreceptors across the retina is not uniform. Cone density is highest at the fovea, where recent estimates place it considerably higher than the figure above suggests -- approximately 300,000/mm2; rod density is highest at about �18 degrees eccentricity. Rods are actually absent in fovea (which is why dim stimuli, such as stars, cannot be seen when gazed at directly, but become visible when images slightly eccentrically -- to the side -- where rods are plentiful). Primates and birds have true foveas (some birds, notably hawks and eagles, actually possess two foveas per retina!); other species such as squirrels, cats, dogs, deer, etc., have a less dramatic regional specialization, and possess what is called an area centralize or a visual streak.

What we can say finally? The human eye is the most High Definition screen for mankind rather to the manmade LCD or LEDs upto now. Isn’t it?

But my quest remains. What about dreams? Are they High Defined or not?

Reading with Music [“මළගිය ඇත්තෝ”]

Yesterday I was reading a 'novel', for the second time, which one of the most famous novels in Sri Lankan literature history, written in 1959 by professor Sarathchandra; actually it’s rather a great one for me because it reflects some of my experience being living outside in another country too. How can I say the name of the novel? It’s simply the “Dead People”! In Sinhalese its name is ‘Malagiya Aththo’[“මළගිය ඇත්තෝ”], ‘Malagiya’ means dead, and ‘Aththo’ means people, or beings. So this novel is not basically centering its theme into an ideology of death or whatever the consequences of being dying or something similar to 'The Tibetan Book of the Dead' etc, but it spiraling around an human axis which one of the most passive protagonist I have ever come across called ‘Devendora Sung’. The story simply develops around DS who was practicing painting and start his life as a Buddhist monk and so and so. After completing many foreign traveling and some painting exhibitions in abroad, he decided to stay in Japan for a period of his life to achieve some of the skills of traditional painting in Japan. During his stay in Japan he encounters some passionate relationship with somewhat ignorant but very humanistic girl named Noriko. There relationship never well defined and no indication of an affair of love but this entanglement make both so sensitive towards their goals of life and end up the story in a partial tragedy by shifting DS back to his own country remaining both unmarried and helpless.

This tale of an isolated man being alone with his painting tools, starts to live in another country and finding some passion to investigate his inner mysteries is represented in very much poetical language. One of the most influential constituent of the novel is to get some awareness of Japanese tradition and its culture, remarkably fabricated. Most of the spiral arms of Japanese culture are depicted through the pursuance of DS’s inner ambition to find his style in his artistic vision drives the reader to another depth of Japanese arts and culture through his observations. I like this human affair as well as the cultural paradigms emerges into one another through the text is very much unique in the context of Sri Lankan literature.

If you really interested in Malagiya Aththo’s complete understanding of character progression and their fate, you have to read the second part of the novel came in 1965 as 'Malawunge Avurudu da' ['මළවුන්ගේ අවුරුදු දා' 'the dead people’s new year day'] which was written in the Noriko’s perspective, will solve the mystic affairs that made Devandora’s sources and reasons of his internal conflicts of being in 'love'. 

By the way Sepal Amarasinghe has published a critical book on the subject of reading this novel as a recommended book for the Advanced Level students for their examination and another similar book by Widura Abeynayake and some other literary critics too.

These reviews and critical essays are very much helpful to get into the nucleus of the ‘Malagiya Aththo’; is helpful to dig into most perspectives of reading a novel in modern context.

I was reading this novel while listening to some Japanese music made my reading a pleasurable by synchronizing music with text. That experience is very much cinematic and I used some music of ‘Secrets of Zen’ album and some other ‘Ensemble Nipponia-Traditional Japanese Vocal & Instrumental Music’ album with Kabuki backing themes very nicely marching with the contents of the novel incidentally. Most of the time these mystified lovers, Devendora Sung and Noriko are spending their time together in coffee shops listening Japanese music and watching kabuki in opera halls.

Sometimes I think music playing in background will heighten the reading pleasure of some novels mostly poetical ones. I can remember the best novel ‘Baththalangunduwa’ which was won the title by year 2008, by Manjula Wediwardena is the most poetical novel we experienced reading for the last decade in Sri Lankan literary history, I used ‘Bambaru Ewith’ cinema theme music to play in the background to get into the deep contextual singularity of the ‘Baththalangunduwa’ while I was reading it for the third time. Both the movie and the novel fixed their geographical anchor and context into the coastal life of fishermen and so and so. You can hear the breeze of the sea while you are imagining the portrayed architecture of the characters in textual form in the coastal arena is the mystifying thing here.

This nature of cinematic effect due to background music will be there in most of the English novels too which I came across. “The mysterious flame of Queen Loana” by Umberto Echo is another mysterious novel I can mention here with some classical Italian instrumental music in the background to enhance its reading pleasure such as I used to.

By theory there must be some sort of genre of music each novel can be read in keeping playing background is, mostly, very personal experience and rely on judgment.

[thanking for the image source ]