Pramudith D. Rupasinghe

more photos (41)

year in books
J.L.   ...
1,769 books | 4,623 friends

Linda
3,860 books | 2,818 friends

Jeffrey...
3,914 books | 5,000 friends

Taylor
1,443 books | 1,306 friends

Afro Ma...
2,171 books | 441 friends

Olive F...
2,410 books | 3,945 friends

Chomal
283 books | 277 friends

Julie
7,229 books | 3,027 friends

More friends…

Pramudith D. Rupasinghe

Goodreads Author


Born
in Gampaha, Sri Lanka
Twitter

Genre

Influences
Khaled Hosseini, Ernest Hemingway, Gabriel García Márquez, Paulo Coelh ...more

Member Since
January 2014


Pramudith Rupasinghe is one of the emerging authors from Sri Lanka who has been privy to the world and what goes on in it. Born in Gampaha, Sri Lanka in 1979, he soon discovered his vocation for writing though he still works in the humanitarian sector. As a humanitarian diplomat, he has served in several countries around the world. While working as a humanitarian, Pramudith has had the opportunity to explore the unexplored side of human life, connect with cultures that have not been in touch with the external world, and experience the emotions of people who have been through trials. Trials which are more distressing than words could ever describe. It is through his experiences that he endeavours to relate their meaningful stories giving tho ...more

Popular Answered Questions

Pramudith D. Rupasinghe Cut the fence of hesitation, break the wall of negativity, be confident that you can jump over the hurdles that pop up from no where in yourself durin…moreCut the fence of hesitation, break the wall of negativity, be confident that you can jump over the hurdles that pop up from no where in yourself during the journey of writing…. Moving your pen is moving your life… towards the self-actualization. Listen to positive vibes of your soul that would say ‘nothing is easy but not impossible’. Grab the part ‘Not Impossible’. You will enjoy a horizon where only a few have gone. (less)
Pramudith D. Rupasinghe Hello, Your are not the first one who asked me this question, I believe the genre of the book confused you a bit. The protagonist is s real (existing)…moreHello, Your are not the first one who asked me this question, I believe the genre of the book confused you a bit. The protagonist is s real (existing) person, what he goes through is also real, but I have not mentioned his real name for maintaining confidentiality. Besides that why the book is considered as a semi-fiction is based on the fictional elements added to supplement the main story, such as some additional characters. I believe I responded to your question.(less)
Average rating: 4.57 · 185 ratings · 86 reviews · 4 distinct worksSimilar authors
Behind the Eclipse: The Unh...

4.81 avg rating — 64 ratings — published 16 — 13 editions
Rate this book
Clear rating
Bayan

4.62 avg rating — 81 ratings — published 2018 — 11 editions
Rate this book
Clear rating
Footprints in Obscurity: A ...

3.94 avg rating — 31 ratings8 editions
Rate this book
Clear rating
The Rain of Fire

4.56 avg rating — 9 ratings — published 2017 — 6 editions
Rate this book
Clear rating

* Note: these are all the books on Goodreads for this author. To add more, click here.

10 extraordinary books by male Sri Lankan authors

Reading this piece of review published in Curious Reader Magazine, I discovered that my very first book, Footprints in Obscurity has been listed among 10 most extraordinary books by male Sri Lankan authors.
Here goes the intro of the review:
"Last year, when I visited Sri Lanka, I was struck by three things- the beauty of the country, the kindness of its people and the deliciousness of its food. A Read more of this blog post »
2 likes ·   •  0 comments  •  flag
Share on Twitter
Published on December 29, 2019 04:53 Tags: footprints-in-obscurity, pramudithdrupasinghe

Upcoming Events

No scheduled events. Add an event.

Footpints in Obscurity - Hard Cover edition (Travel)
1 chapters   —   updated May 15, 2016 09:44PM
Description: A boy who was longing to discover the imaginary world that conquered his mind when his father was narrating "free-time stories" reaches the final destination after three decades, breaking frontiers, overcoming diverse hurdles, and thus making the journey a unique and colourful experience. "Footprints in Obscurity" is an impressive effort by the author in taking the reader on a real-time journey across twenty-nine African countries. It's a story of endurance, perseverance and transformation meshed with contemporary African realities, encapsulated in twenty chapters dedicated to carefully selected themes based on the author`s first-hand experiences during half a decade of travels. An unconventional revelation and a true story about Africa, the book also provides a profound psychological insight on how childhood dreams often shape one`s adult life.
Footpints in Obscurity (Travel)
1 chapters   —   updated May 15, 2016 09:33PM
Description: A boy who was longing to discover the imaginary world that conquered his mind when his father was narrating “free-time stories” reaches the final destination after three decades, breaking frontiers, overcoming diverse hurdles, and thus making the journey an unique and colourful experience. “Footprints in Obscurity” is an impressive effort by the author in taking the reader on a real-time journey across twenty-nine African countries. It's a story of endurance, perseverance and transformation meshed with contemporary African realities, encapsulated in twenty chapters dedicated to carefully selected themes based on the author`s first-hand experiences during half a decade of travels. An unconventional revelation and a true story about Africa, the book also provides a profound psychological insight on how childhood dreams often shape one`s adult life.

Pramudith’s Recent Updates

Pramudith Rupasinghe rated a book liked it
Funny Boy by Shyam Selvadurai
Rate this book
Clear rating
1113994 1108466
43985348
Bayan by Pramudith D. Rupasinghe
"Bayan is the word for the musical instrument, the accordion, used in Russian. And Bayan, the book is the story of an older man in rural Ukraine, caught between the two worlds of the setting Soviet era and the dawning democratic nations. It begins on " Read more of this review »
සිසිර ගීතය  - Bayan Sinhala Translation- by Pramudith D. Rupasinghe
"Bayan is a different level novel with riveting narration and profound psychological effect. I picked up this book thinking Bayan a name of the character. Well, it is a sort of a Russian musical instrument. The story peeks into life of a seventy-year-" Read more of this review »
Bayan by Pramudith D. Rupasinghe
"[Note: I will give it around 7.5 stars out of 10, the stars above are rounded off
You can find our #BookReview for "Bayan" at: https://thinkerviews.com/books/englis...]

From our team, I got a chance to read Kindle EBook version of Bayan, and I found it" Read more of this review »
Pramudith Rupasinghe rated a book really liked it
A Noble Radiance by Donna Leon
Rate this book
Clear rating
Its not the Roberto's death and the intrigue and suspense that every word carries every single second of the read, it is the flow and how sophisticatedly the story is woven that gripped me from my right wrist. I could not drop the book down since the ...more
More of Pramudith's books…
“Life is an orbit where light and darkness follow each other in a mercurial cycle.”
Pramudith D. Rupasinghe

“Life is a sky where clouds are looming over till the apocalypse".”
Pramudith D. Rupasinghe, Bayan

“Life is an orbit where light and darkness follow each other in a mercurial cycle, just like night is followed by a day and every day is followed by a night,”
Pramudith D. Rupasinghe, Behind the Eclipse

“Life is an orbit where light and darkness follow each other in a mercurial cycle.”
Pramudith D. Rupasinghe

“Life is a sky where clouds are looming over till the apocalypse".”
Pramudith D. Rupasinghe, Bayan

“Rumors are are like ripples in a paddy field.They are ephemeral, but they do indicate which way the wind is blowing'.”
Pramudith D. Rupasingheith

“There is one thing I've learned about people: they don't get that mean and nasty overnight. It's not human nature. But if you give people enough time, eventually they'll do the most heartbreaking stuff in the world.”
Jennifer Mathieu, The Truth About Alice

“That is the motto women should constantly repeat over and over again. Good for her! Not for me.”
Amy Poehler, Yes Please

207338 Reader Cental: Pramudith D Rupasinghe — 2 members — last activity Apr 04, 2020 11:14AM
The Sri Lankan author PRAMUDITH D RUPASINGHE is considered one of the emerging authors of our times. His books have sold more than half million copies ...more
25x33 Humanitarians born with pens — 1 member — last activity May 15, 2016 09:10PM
This page is a liberal space for the writers who emerged from humanitarian arena.
516094 Readalongs with Ange — 463 members — last activity May 28, 2019 10:49PM
Here I will be hosting readalongs from time to time. Please join in the fun and discuss the books we read together :) My YouTube channel is: https:/ ...more
574167 Lizziefaye's Comfy Corner — 232 members — last activity 6 hours, 9 min ago
This is a group where we read feel-good books, fun books and all around "comfort reads." ...more
535774 Telugu Readers — 219 members — last activity May 21, 2021 05:33AM
A group for those who enjoy reading telugu novels and literature. తెలుగు సాహిత్య అభిమానులకు స్వాగతం.
689509 THE SWORD AND TOME — 50 members — last activity May 06, 2020 03:54AM
What is the Fantasy Genre you ask? Well, the Fantasy Genre often describes any book that contains unrealistic settings, or magic, set in a alternate h ...more
817630 Dragons & Tea Book Club — 5274 members — last activity Mar 09, 2021 11:19AM
Hello! This is a book club, hosted by four Asian book reviewers, dedicated to boosting marginalized voices and celebrating diverse books, while always ...more
174090 Nonfiction November 2020 — 1530 members — last activity Dec 03, 2020 03:20PM
This is the Goodreads page for the #NonfictionNovember challenge on Booktube. We challenge you to read four nonfiction books (or as many as you can ge ...more
1133459 7 Days to Christmas (readathon) — 26 members — last activity Dec 28, 2020 04:20AM
A group for people interested in participating in this readathon. Check out the challenges in the topics below and don't forget to ask questions if so ...more
1108466 The Book Club 52|52: Reading non-fiction for self-development & growth community — 692 members — last activity Jun 14, 2021 01:03PM
👋 Welcome to The Book Club 52|52: Reading non-fiction for self-development & growth community! 📚 The positive, inclusive and supportive community fo ...more
More of Pramudith’s groups…



Comments (showing 1-5)    post a comment »
dateUp arrow    newest »

Majenta Peaceful greetings, Pramudith! Thank you for contacting me! Congratulations on your books! I hope you are well and having a great week and a great life. Happy reading, writing, and everything else. Blessings!

Best wishes from Majenta


Pramudith Rupasinghe I remember the days when Oldman was strong he used to go to the bush almost everyday to set his snare for bush-meat. A monkey, grass cuter, porcupine, a python or at least a big rodent; he used to bring home when he comes back from the bush. Cleaning is my grand-mother`s speciality and other wives of my grand father used to support her. He had eleven wives, all were old friends of my grand mother who always said that without their support her life would not have been the same. The day he did not return from the bush was a full moon day and everyone was silent in houses except my grandmother and all of his wives were pleading the moon to send him back home from where he was hidden. My grandmother started boiling palm oil when the moon raised right on her head, it was midnight, and started whispering something that I learnt later that those were ‘phrases of power’, from the secret societies. Once oil started bubbling she added some herbs that one old woman had brought home once some of the villagers got to know that old man was missing in the bush. She took the pot out from the fire and took it to an open area in the front-yard of our cluster of mud-huts. The wives who were pleading the moon, sitting at doorsteps of their huts started moving towards my grandmother silently with very careful steps still looking at the moon. I was looking at them although I did not have a clue of what was going on, I felt a very strange feeling about old man. My instinct hinted me that we would not see him again. All wives made a circle around the pot and sat on knees, bending towards inside the pot as if the were trying to find something inside boiling oil. A silence that was mystic swallowed the surrounding when an old lady brought a rooster into cycle of women. They passed the rooster from hand to hand and finally to my grand mother who cut its neck and pour its blood into the oil pot. Then they kept on watching as if they were waiting for something to happen inside the pot. After a while other wives of old man started moving back to their mud-huts where there were several dozens of children waiting to for them. They walked in a melancholic way, they stepped as if they were lifeless, face looking down while no-one said anything. The pale moonlight added a dead rays to their slow movements giving a ghosty look.
After a while, men came with traditional lamps made out of palm and coconut leaves, and went into the bush while old lady and my grand mother were left near the pot.
I do not remember no one except my younger brother slept that night. Everyone was expecting something, something that they dared not to verbalize; something that they did not want to hear but they tried to suppress that with hope. Hope that old man would return, alive. The silence reigned between my grandmother and other wives of old man was a sign of a hope and despair, A silence of faith and incertitude. It was like a bridge between life and death.
“Whoop, whoop whoop.......” an owl was desperately calling for a mate. Its whooping crossed the empty air, hit dumb Lofa mountains and echoed unheard. It whooped till the bats started returning from clearing skies with maiden rays of rising sun and stopped. My grandmother, returned to the hut, as if she gave up waiting. When a drop of hot tears from my mothers eyes fell on my hand, I heard the clapping sound of wings of the owl which was flying for his hideout after a long hopeless night of waiting for the answer from the beloved. Instead the light that the sun usually beings, villagers who returned from the bush with no news about the old man, not only our huts, but the whole village felt as if it was the beginning of a long dark time.
“We found nothing” One said loud.
“We will go in again, old man should be somewhere.” Another raised his voice with a hope.
“He knew all wild animals, he should be safe somewhere.” It was my mother who talked after a long silence.
“Devils and witches are dominating the night and full moon.” My grandmothers voice followed my mothers, as if she was in denial of what she heard from my mother.
Everyone said that my mother and grandmother could not live in the same space. They had disagreements that often ended up with a quarrel that the old man had to intervene however even he could not resolve them but stop the violence whenever irrupted. But for sure, both of them loved the old man, and respected him. Whenever he says something they both listened to him. Whenever he was not at home, the huts were never at peace. After each fight my mother used to come to my father and complain that he took never saw that grandmother was wrong. Then my father used to beat her; sometimes when I was in her hand. That was the most scary thing I had seen in my childhood. One day he beat her till she fell down and kicked her back many times ­it was merely because her verbal aggression.
“Last night the dogs where baking.......plenty.” it was another man from our little village. Tamba who was famous for his talkativeness but he had gained a fame for his unbelievable ability in forecasting too. Two days before my uncle was killed by a black mamba bite, he had visited him and had told him to avoid the bush for one full moon. My uncle did not want to listen to him but my grandmother was worrying about what he told and pleading him to not to go to the bush. The day he was brought home still and cold, my grandmother collapse d like a banana tree that could not bare the weight of the fruits. She said only one thing. “Tamba you are a witch, you knew this.” His presence at the scene heightened the level of anxiety of everyone who was there as many did not denied that belief that he was a witch, although non of them dared to spell it out. Nonetheless no-one commented on what he said; probably because non of them wanted to accept what they were already feeling.
“Ooo....... he had left this on the log, I knew that it was the reason.” Kumba came running from her hut. She was the youngest wife of old man. She was not more than fifteen years - I was not pretty sure about her exact age as we did not use christian calendar those days, however she was younger than most of the children and grand children of the old man. He loved to stay most of the nights in her hut and the night before he disappeared in the bush he had been with Kumba.
Old man always used to wear a charm for protection since the time of I know. He told that it was given by his grandfather; a well renounced voodoo practitioner from Sierra-Leone who once kept a tribal leader immobile for seven days.
“Not a single pea flying over his head.” told old man one day while relating on one story about his childhood. He always talked about his grand father whom he used to call Broh with a fear mixed with respect. He had an extremely profound faith in the charm that had been passed to him from Broh; everyone else also believed that the charm was the sole protection that kept old man safe in the bush.
Seeing what Kumba was holding in her hand, my grandmother nearly fainted; my mother nearly dropped my sister from her hand; other wives of old man started crying loud and my grandmother who was on the ground started rolling and eating the soil as if there would only be soil for us to feed on anymore. Amid of unprecedented flood of emotions, the old woman who brought the rooster approached my grand mother, her tone was firm.
“Let`s go to the river!’ it sounded more like an order than a request.
“I saw my grandmother`s face looking up at the old woman; her tearful eyes were shining in the moonlight and she was trying to tell something that he mouth would not want to turn into words’
Under the pale moonlight she moved with other ladies towards the river and some men followed them. My mother was watching till the lights of the palm-leave candles disappeared into the bush and started sobbing.


back to top