Article by:
AATISH TASEER
“The beauty and the horror,” the Sri Lankan–Canadian writer Shyam Selvadurai said to me in Jaffna. “Both things must be there. Otherwise, it’s not Sri Lanka.”
We sat in a busy restaurant in a city ravaged by war. I was at the end of a journey north across this island country and the writer’s remark felt now almost like shared knowledge. But it was something that had come to me slowly, this awareness of the Sri Lankan duality, of the creeping horror. Because, 12 days before, when I had first landed in Colombo, there had been no trace of it. Then there had been only the beauty. Read the full travel article here.
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