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    Travails of the Human Jungle
    Travails of the Human Jungle
    Travails of the Human Jungle
    Ebook92 pages1 hour

    Travails of the Human Jungle

    By Jayamal Jayaweera

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    About this ebook

    The complex social milieu pervading the fabric of our current society is instrumental in influencing the contrasting characteristics and traits found in human beings. However, a fine thread mirroring the spiritual dimension of the universe tend to bind all homo sapiens intrinsically with varying degree of strength. Thus here lies the difference between good and bad, right or wrong and superior and weak characters that we encounter in our day to day lives. The 7 short stories in this book attempts to portray the different perspectives of these human traits that have been largely influenced by the above scenario. "The Sins of the Fathers" describes a complex but realistic social situation and how human beings are intrinsically impacted by the actions of the previous generation, albeit having little or no control over the outcome. "The Easter Sacrifice" attempts to portray how some people can find solace by withdrawing from social situations and enclosing themselves in seclusion supported by a higher spiritual awareness from the universe. "Destiny" provides a realistic overview of whether a hidden power can have control over people on what has to happen. "Degenerated Man" attempts to portray the dark side of a human being and questions reason for its existence. "The Cause" explores how human relationships can break down cultural and social norms created by human beings and in the process be detrimental to their own existence. "The Last Gift" is a tale depicting how actions of separate social segments can impact the lives of people who have no involvement with the former. Finally "Reality of Karma" is a depiction of how unseen Karmatic forces can have a hand at defining the lives of people. Thus "Travails of the Human Jungle" is a collection of short stories that attempts to depict the complexity of human relationships and the unforeseen outcomes of these relationships, influenced largely by individual and social traits acquired from the social fabric.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherDynamic Talent
    Release dateAug 20, 2024
    ISBN9798227930262
    Travails of the Human Jungle
    Author

    Jayamal Jayaweera

    Jayamal Boniface Jayaweera MBA (PIM-USJ), MBCS CITP, CSCM(ISCEA), CMILT Jayamal has an MBA from the University of Sri Jayewardenepura, Sri Lanka, and am also a Chartered Information Technology Professional from the British Computer Society. In addition, he is a Certified Supply Chain Manager from the International Supply Chain Education Alliance (ISCEA), USA. and a Chartered Member of the Institute of Logistics & Transport UK. Furthermore, Jayamal is a holder of the Postgraduate Certificate in Higher Education and have been awarded the Fellowship of the Higher Education Alliance UK. Writing has been one of his main passions from his young age and hence have made it one of his hobbies. He has focussed more on writing short stories. Currently Jayamal is working on his first novel. Hope to publish it by 2025 latest.  He is also a musician with a flair for playing keyboards, and have his own home studio for music recording. 

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      Book preview

      Travails of the Human Jungle - Jayamal Jayaweera

      The Sins of the Fathers

      Neil ducked hastily behind the sand-bag barricade in order to avoid the fresh onslaught of ricocheting bullets from the terrorists. His companion wasn’t quick enough and so lay dead beside him. A thin trickle of blood from his mouth signified the fact that he had been hit somewhere in the chest. Neil closed the half open eyes of the dead soldier and covered his face with a handkerchief. He wasn’t emotionally moved at all. He had learnt and fervently believed in the fact that crying for the dead paid no dividends. You were born, you survived by either sheer luck or grit, and then, when your defense mechanisms broke down, you stopped surviving. Death according him was only an absence of survival. You were born to die. That was his philosophy.

      There was a sudden lull in the firing. He raised himself slowly to his knees and had a peek. He didn’t like it at all. It was always usually calm before a storm. He knew by instinct that the terrorists had retreated only to plan a fresh offensive. They would be back very soon. He glanced to his left where some of the troops lay huddled together against the sandbags; their rifles cradled against their chests, waiting anxiously and expectantly for the next onslaught. To his right the wide expanse of the open trench receded up the hill, pockets of what was left of his garrison making use of whatever cover they had to ward off the sporadic attacks from the front.

      He was tired.

      He lay down with his knees drawn up against his chin and his back against one of the sandbags. He kept the rifle on the ground beside him. He had this strange persistent feeling that he would never get out of this war alive. It was indeed a stupid war. Mankind seems to have degraded themselves to the level of the animal species, and was fighting each other for a piece of the earth.

      He thought about Nilanthi. If only things had not suddenly changed overnight! Well you couldn’t turn back the time, could you? He wondered what she was doing at this moment. Maybe she was cooking the evening meal or still on the way home after work. He had not seen her since the day he got his posting to the North. That was well over three years ago. He visualized her smiling face with that mischievous twinkle in her eyes. He tried to speak to the visual image in his mind. He felt the sudden familiar ache within him. He longed to be beside her; to hold her in his arms. The longing filtered itself out, as usual, to a melancholy of frustrations as he realized his inability to be at her side this very moment. She had been the only thing in his life that had any meaning. Everything else had been mere illusions....

      He came out of his reverie when a splatter of bullets beat against the sandbags. He raised himself stiffly to his knees, brought his rifle back to his shoulder and fired a round. From the cluster of trees, a few hundred yards away, came a high pitched scream. A figure clad in the yellow-green striped jungle fatigues used by the LTTE fighters darted out of the covering and started running towards where Neil lay. He fired another round and the figure stumbled and fell. The firing stopped abruptly. A few minutes later Neil made his way cautiously towards the fallen figure amidst warning hisses from his companions. The figure was only a boy not more than about eighteen years of age. Neil knelt down beside him and cradled the boy’s head in his arms when he realized that the boy was alive. The moving lips were striving to tell him something. His concentration at what the boy was trying to say was so intense, that he didn’t hear the warning shout of his companions. Therefore, he failed to see another figure that had suddenly emerged from cluster of trees to his left toss a hand grenade at him....

      C:\Program Files\Microsoft Office\MEDIA\CAGCAT10\j0088542.wmf

      THE ARMY JEEP TURNED into the sandy drive that led to the house. It was one of the cottages that was built in the same compound, obviously as that of the other relatives. The Army Major got out from his jeep and noted with pleasure the orderly way the cottage and the compound was kept. The girl came out hastily wiping her hands with a large piece of cloth. He recognized her at once from the photograph. Her pose and features gave an inclination to a possible streak of inherent determination where values were concerned. She held herself aloof, her hair falling carelessly past her shoulders. She seemed to be curious but not unduly afraid of him or his uniform. The serene and placid look had a strange attractiveness that seemed to capture him totally.

      "Mahattaya, Kawada Hoyanne?" she asked in Sinhala. (Whom are you searching for?)

      Er... ow. Mama poddak athulata ennada? Mata wadagath karanayak thiyanawa kathakaranne  (Er... yes, may I come in ? I have some very important matter to discuss with you)

      The beginnings of something akin to fear seemed to cloud her face. She nodded silently. The Major stepped inside the house into the verandah and sat down in a chair that was offered to him.

      Do you recognize this photograph?, he continued in Sinhala while taking a photograph from his tunic pocket and showing it to her.

      She stood looking at it for a moment; then jumped forward and snatched it from his hand. It was a photograph of herself taken about five or six years back. She had posed herself against some bushes of roses, grinning at the camera.

      Where did you get this from?, she demanded, turning the photograph over. The inscription was entrenched in his mind:

      Yatharthaya piligatha uthuwa atha. In pala yama wadak natha- Nilanthi

      (Realities are only to be Accepted; Not to Run away from – Nilanthi)

      I am sorry Nilanthi. He died in action last evening.

      Nilanthi sat down in a nearby chair quite abruptly. The change in her was incredible. Her self control seemed to dissolve right in front of his eyes.

      No No, it cannot be, she began repeating softly; her breath coming out in great gasps. The cool serene look was shattered.

      Rohan, Rohan, she cried out, the gasps of breath turning out to be nerve wracking sobs.

      A young man came hurrying from inside the house.

      What’s wrong?, he asked concernedly glancing from one to the other.

      "Aney Rohan, Neil – Neil is dead", she sobbed loudly. Her loud sobs attracted the residents of the other cottages

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