what to do?

When the dullness
comes, and there
is no room for joy-
deep breaths and
non thought- a zen
like existence
is the best bet.


wedged heart

Deep in my heart a wedge does lie

I’m willing to throw a dart to hit it clean and fair

Instead I breathe, breathe deeply and sigh

The cause of the wedge is mine—let’s try.


Was it the afternoon I drove back from Galle?

Hail! Thunder and Lightning quite a scare

Voice on the radio warning us to go with care.

the highway is dangerous to drive anywhere.


Wait! is the wedge my children? My poor mother, too.

My husband, Dom, my in laws? ‘How do you do?’

A lost love, another life, what could have been?

it’s  bittersweet now, all that I have seen…


The wedge comes and goes. Today it sticks, like a thorn to a rose.

Tears pour down my face, I am thankful for god’s grace.

To analyze the pain, sitting in the car in the rain

One goes back in time, breathes, the mind arace.


To gratitude: of course, I’m grateful! So what if I’m Fey?

The wedge is lodged, embedded deep. I long for the comfort of sleep

Not yet, not there, the exit is quite far. Stay awake!

Don’t fall asleep. Keep breathing the wedge out, however deep.


At last the exit, I take the turn, drive to the booth to stop.

Pay my toll and on my way, keep breathing the hardness away

And suddenly, I am aware, that this feeling of a wedge

has disappeared, is not there?  was it the stress of the drive?


Maybe. Could be, should be, yes! Driving is difficult

When one can barely see, the car in front, the road, a tree.

The rain is ceasing, the breathing is easy

At last: Home. the dog runs to greet me.


Unpack my bag get on the mat

Do a few yoga poses, here comes the cat!

5 kittens to feed all are shivering.

My body feels better, no more dithering


I draw a bath then into bed, take meds, then cover.

Dream of mayhem and accidents oh what a shower!

I suddenly wake up to another day. Stretch and yawn.

The wedge has gone, the sun shines bright. Oh how I love, love, love the light.



N.S.  APRIL 15, 2018




Closed Door

The building looked impressive at dusk. The setting sun’s rays hit the structure at the angle so the front face of the property was bathed in a golden light; diffused, and as beautiful as any building could look given the time. It proudly stood as it had for centuries beckoning us over so that we could not resist and did just that. We walked to the bottom of the steps that lead up to the front door, pausing, to take in its’ magnificence, wondering what was behind the door? A Museum? A Church? A grand home? Three of us stood staring at the door, the light fading as the setting sun was disappearing fast this winter night. The other two in the group were embracing twenty feet from us, their arms entwined around their bodies as new lovers are apt to do.

We whistled out to them, gesticulating that we were about to head in. John and Jo gave us a thumbs up sign to say they understood and would follow-

We reached out to open the doors and failed—it felt heavy. Much heavier then it looked. I guessed it was about three feet thick. We tried the doors again, this time we thrust our body weight against the wood turning the handle at the same time so that it finally gave way. We stumbled into an ante chamber, smoke filled, an air of palpable excitement permeated the room. We could barely see; the smoke was dense and heavy. It took us seconds to see a silhouette of a man with a saxophone raised to his mouth, his beard scraping the pipe of the instrument. As the water cleared from our eyes the opening bars of “the closer I get to you” filled the room. We shivered, goose bumps popping up and our knees buckled as we sat down on the stools and listened to the most sensual, evocative music that we had ever heard. I ordered a beer as did the others-mesmerized by the music, not wanting the moment to end.


druvinka (1) (1) 5*6

Druvinka 2017B

The Spiritual Aritist
Born in 1971, She was sent to art school as she was considered an introvert. She placed herself in a corner in order not to show her work;  never happy with her paintings, she used to hide her works of art.
She was inspired by Cora Abrahams and Nilanthi Weereratne-she was inspired by the conversations she had with them about art and books. (fascinating)
(Anjalendran was a big fan especially during her early years, He sold a lot of her paintings during that time.)
Cora Abraham, a famous art teacher in Colombo took her in as a special child, because her father was in the military.
Druvinka was introduced to many artists and their work by Ms. Abraham; she especially liked TURNER. His paintings of landscapes and the sea — she thought his paintings very mysterious– She was given blank canvases by Cora who said, “Be Free, Druvinka. Be Free! Express yourself!
Druvinka showed exceptional control and hand movement. It was then that her work went up on the walls and was exhibited in a small way.
She had her first solo exhibition at the Galadari Meridian. Arlene (her mum) and Druvinka organized an exhibition because she got a lot of praise and encouragement from her teachers, mentors, peers and other artists. She spent some time in Manchester, she submitted her portfolio of landscapes and was accepted (Manchester University, Portfolio of Landscapes. )
She graduated from Visaka, went to Manchester and then applied to Shanthineketan (got in and went) Why paint and make a living? “Because even if I have to be on the road I will try and make it” to the best of my ability. When she draws the character, the essence, of her inspired content comes through, other than a photographic message. I cannot get rid of the innermost feelings even now. Soul, essence and skill. Unlike early on, she is not at all inhibited by society or shyness.
Druvinka is spontaneous in her approach to her art, never scared of pressing oil colour onto canvas until something comes up. She paints in layers.
“Shanthineketen showed me the truth; India, Incredible India. One cannot bullshit your way through. Out went cushioning, the comfort of Colombo – In India she confronted reality – Felt small. A nobody. So you have to make it work. A survivor. Classmates left me alone, batch mates never exhibited, but Druvinka had experience. She kept to herself gathering information (an introvert) I didn’t know anything, spoke only when she knew the answers.
Druvinka is now secure in her art.—At Shanthineketen she met her husband, Bodh, a super artist and teacher, who controlled her totally. Bodh and a few others, made up a group called “We are International 1998.” They projected their work onto city walls and trees.
You are a great artist, I think you should work” You are a working artist, Bodh criticized her work, made her work, to make it better. She exhibited at the Lionel Wendt in 1995 and 1996. Druvinka is competent in pottery, sculpture, printmaking, textile design, painting, history of art, western, far eastern, and indian.
Druvinka chose to exhibit at Gallery 706 in 1996 where she showed her Embryo series.
This was soon followed by:
· Refugee series
· Karmic forces,
· Rising
· Lingam
· Beneath beyond
For Druvinka the process is crucial. She paints on raw canvas, bamboo paper, and rice paper. She paints vast metaphorical themes such as gods, goddesses, the universe, the afterlife. Therefore, her paintings are large; the largest is 15ft * 6ft. she exhibits at the Barefoot Gallery and has a special relationship with Nazreen Sansoni the curator of the Gallery. They are often mistaken for sisters.
Today, she paints on 1*1 canvases and paper but only for practical reasons. Even though the work is small, the concepts remain large.
1) Magic
2) Tantric
Without the darkness there is no light, dark and light work together — however, dark –eventually light comes out. However much you play with dark, the dark is only used for light to shine. Light is powerful it has to come. Think Leonard Cohen: There is a crack in everything, that’s how the light gets in.
I have learnt through my Sadana how to keep nothing inside, only the moment of being, so it’s becoming childlike, wisdom with no knowledge, It’s not possible to connect with the spirit world without being empty.
I no longer paint but only my body is used as an instrument for channeling from above, to canvas, so whatever appears is original and a message. Pathal means the underworld… one of the three worlds
Sadana is sacrificing certain things in life and sitting in meditation till you achieve something that you were searching for. Tantra is `connected to dark and light and represents the cycle of life, which is called: Samsara. Whatever Druvinka indulges in comes out in her paintings.
The 5 elements: water, earth, sky, fire and air, this is the magic and god. That’s what we are made of in illusionary world. The universal truth is Satyam, Shivom, and Sundaram.
Satyam means truth, Shivom is never dying soul, and Sundaram is the beauty of it all.
The spiritual and happy artist; DRUVINKA.
Nazreen Sansoni as told to by Druvinka.
December 2017



Werewolf in Nuwara Eliya

That night in Nuwara Eliya
When Dom and I stumbled
Into the Grand, we had just re-met
And every moment was precious.
It took us ten minutes to find the bar
It was cold for Nuwara eliya and we
Needed a drink, desperately.
A single malt for Dom and a Port
For me. This was in 1993,

I turned towards the barman to place our order
And stopped, shocked. Next to us was the most
Extraordinary man I had ever seen, he was approx.
7ft tall. His ears were pointy, nearly as large as his head
A beard that tapered to a degree
His sideburns, thick, wide, designed
Angled to his mouth
A sweet smile. It was disconcerting.
Basically, your friendly neighborhood werewolf.
He bought us a round of drinks and
Seemed very glad to meet us.
We drank with him up to a point.

Said our goodbyes
And staggered outside into a sea
Of mist. It must have been midnight
the moon was full.
Shining bright with light
To show us the way
To the car-
we drunkenly
Drove the windy
Road back to the club.

Quietly distressed by the
Meeting of the man
Who looked like a wolf.



June 2017


Sweater Weather



Short days in Michigan

When the leaves turn to

colours of the earth.


The old man mowing his lawn

Wearing his slate cashmere v-neck with

holes under the arms, has never bothered

to get the thing darned.


Billy used the season to shoot

He would walk out into the woods with his Colt 45

Looked for Rabbit, Deer, if lucky, a Bear.

He wore a brown, round, wool neck sweater

that kept him warm.

It also camouflaged him really well.


No-one mentioned the time he was down by

The creek – – a body floated up, face down–

bloated and gross from being in the river for over

A week.

The sheriff hushed It up,

Billy was his son, you see.


The Sheriff wore a red lambswool sweater

to suggest authority, or perhaps, danger? and to keep visible.

He was beautiful to look at – A Cary Grant—with manners.

How us County people respected him.

The sole reason we never pursued the body story.

His word was Final.


Me, Autumn in Michigan, meant road trips—a six pack of

Molson in the car;  Ruben sandwiches and my best girlfriend.

We’d sing to Joni Mitchell and Carol King—perfect tunes for a fall sunset

that seemed to last forever. At night, Deborah Harry

blasted from the CD deck the stars shining brightly.


We did not need the moon or headlights to show us the way.

My girlfriend wore her purple sweater, made of Angora.

It smelled of Opium. I wore a cashmere jersey

in lime green.


We drove for days hitting the west coast

Got down at Full Moon Beach.

Threw our sweaters off,

and with it, our angst spinning emotions

Jumped nude into the Pacific Ocean


The water was cold.

We could very well had been swimming in

Lake Michigan—but,

It was worth it.

For the Road Trip.

2261 miles of it.

NS May 7th 2017.

Machine I loved

A low slung Volks

turbo charged, fast


did 130 miles on

the Arugumbay

Moneragala road

‘A poor man’s porsche’

my friend said.

Leonard Cohen crooning

as we looked

at the mountains

whizzing by

light poured in

the driver seat

comfortable enough to

race in.

I down shifted to third

then, back to fourth, fifth

as we turned the corner

on two wheels

the car did a one eighty

and smashed against

the hillside

we poured out

stunned, bruised, bleeding

we were ok

the car ok, too

German engineering

I thought

I loved this car

I was biased

Thank god we weren’t

driving the Prius.

NS FEB 13, 2017


Prasad Hettiarcahi

Prasad Prasad, born in 1975 in Colombo, has lived and worked in the highly urban atmosphere of Rajagiriya in Colombo, his entire life. He had won numerous awards and participated in art workshops and projects in his high school days in early 90s. At this time, one of his works was selected to be held at the 1994 Art Exhibition in France at the UNESCO Center by the Sri Lanka Cultural, Social and Educational Association of France. However, to date, Prasad does not possess a formal certificate in visual art. Nevertheless, he was fortunate to get selected to follow and complete a course in archaeology at the Post Graduate Institute of Archaeology in 2011. Since early 2000s Prasad has played a role as an artist in an active leftist political party in Sri Lanka, doing calligraphy, posters, huge stage designs, etc. He earns his living working as a freelance artist, doing graphic design and various visual works. In this series, he continues his work on the theme ‘An Unbelievable Taste!’ Here he incorporate visuals of traditional Sri Lankan rock and wall paintings, colonial heritage, urban life and the main motive is the betel sellers or the ‘saravita karaya’ of the very lower strata of society, and their decorative ‘saravita box’. ‘Saravita’ which could be called a contemporary tradition, is tasty substance for some and unpleasant for others. It is chewed to freshen your mouth but is also a main cause of oral cancer in Sri Lanka. The taste symbolically speaks about the visual taste generated by ‘development’ work in Sri Lanka that is also imbued with grave financial and social issues—an unbelievable taste! –

Lalith Manage

Lecture Series

The Directors of the Barefoot Gallery invite you
to an open discussion by

Lalith Gunaratne

The conflicts around us, poverty, climate change and the fast pace the world has taken on with technology may deem us powerless to do anything about it. This discussion is for us to reflect on whether we are really powerless or can we contribute to slow our lives down and make an impact on changing the status quo.

Lalith Ananda Gunaratne here from Ottawa, Canada for a few weeks will facilitate an interactive dialogue on 25th August at the Barefoot Gallery

Date: Monday 25th August, 2014
From: 7:00 pm
Seating on a first-come, first-served basis.
RSVP 2505559

Lalith Gunaratne, Dip Mech Eng., Dip Mkt (CIM-UK), CET, MSc Sage Ontario for Mindful Leadership
LGSE Partners Inc. Tel 613-857-0912

704 Galle Road, Colombo-3
(Behind Barefoot entrance via 8th Lane)