 The uprising
The all male toddlers met.
The venue a cosy mattress, left their soothers in their cots, their
stature to others impress,
“To each a topic,” said the one toothed chief, “pray do not from the
subject digress,”
“All will have the rostrum for their views to express.”
“Too lazy to wash the nappies, so in pampers they clad us, with dozens
on the ready,
Laden with ‘shoo’, crushed to anhillation, Oh! our one and only ‘doody!”
“We bore the heavy burden,” said tiny Tommy, “Akin to a Olympic weight
lifter.”
“Yes!” said another, thought my ‘doody’ will vanish, making me a miss
instead of a baby master.”
“No son for Amma and Thatha but a boyish looking daughter,
“Like for Hermes and Aphrodite, to my parents a disaster.”
“They strapped us in ‘carry cots,’” said Hefty the brag,
“But, me like baby Hercules, heaved the mobile cot as though it was a
rag.”
“And now,” said toddler Andy, “We are dumped into a prison, two by two
metres, securely well walled.”
“The dreaded so called play pen-once in it, how we bawled.”
“Our rights fundamental, grossly infringed - all elders to the Toddlers
Supreme Court, let us sadly drag verdict in their favour. So lets all
get set to climb lifes uneven crag.” While praying for that cosy
sojourn, floating for 260 odd days, in our sweet Amma’s “Water Bag.”
- Siripathy Jayamaha
The missing R!
A young monk arrives at a Monastery. He is assigned to helping the
other monks in copying the old canons and laws of the church by hand. He
notices, however, that all of the monks are copying from copies, not
from the original manuscript.
So, the new monk goes to the head Abbot to question this, pointing
out that if someone made even a small error in the first copy, it would
never be picked up! In fact, that error would be continued in all of the
subsequent copies. The head monk says, “We have been copying from the
copies for centuries, but you make a good point, my son.”
 He goes down into the dark caves underneath the monastery where the
original manuscripts are held as archives in a locked vault that hasn’t
been opened for hundreds of years.
Hours go by and nobody sees the old Abbot.
So, the young monk gets worried and goes down to look for him. He
sees him banging his head against the wall and wailing.
“We missed the R! We missed the R! We missed the R!”
His forehead is all bloody and bruised and he is crying
uncontrollably.
The young monk asks the old Abbot, “What’s wrong, Father?”
With a choking voice, the old Abbot replies,
“The word was...................... CELEB(R)ATE!”
‘Who is the closest to Mother Earth?’ was the topic of the debate
that morn, who else but me, so graceful and innocent said the nimble
fawn,
“I am the closest, I kiss her body,” said the slithering reptile to
the debate well drawn,
 “She is very close to me” said the big leopard, do let me warn, well
drawn,
“Mother loves me most, she’s closest to me”, mooed the cow from the
barn.
“We have the deeds we made her so lovely” boasted the human,
In flew the owl, wise and big eyed “I heard your talk, spare me a
yawn”,
“Man, step aside what with your despicable deeds into parts mother
earth you have sown,
You have sodden Mother Earth with the blood of your kindred own,
Her dearest is her name bearer and silent soil tiller, the gentle
Earth worm, who lives just below her sacred body, inches
beneath the green green lawn”.
- Siripathy Jayamaha
 Mrs. Thomas, passed away and the undertaker wanted to know whether it
would be a burial or a cremation. The email reply came from the
daughter-in-law of Mrs. Thomas “Have both take no chances!”
An epitaph in a lawyer’s tomb “Here lies a lawyer who will lie no
more.”
- Ernest Dissanayake
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