Archive for the ‘Non fiction – English’ Category

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Mechanics of International Trade

March 10, 2014

Mechanics of International Trade – A Guide with Special Reference to Sri Lanka
By Ananda Liyanage

Foremost Publishers

Table of Contents

01  A brief description of the economic development of Sri Lanka from ancient times
02  The efforts of the banking industry from the very beginning to cope with the demands of the economy
03  The rationale for a country to engage in international trade instead of thriving for self sufficiency
04  The economic indicators which a country has to monitor when engaged in international trade
05  The role played by the Monetary Authority of a country in managing its economy
06  The regulatory framework in Sri Lanka for banks engaged in international trade operations
07  The theory for determining the value of a currency against other currencies.
08  The key factors to be considered before entering into a contract of sale in international trade
09  The risks and uncertainties of international trade as opposed to domestic trade
10  The various documents that  are required in international trade and their significance Read the rest of this entry ?

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Switching off By Deepal Sooriyaarachchi

February 26, 2014

Sarvodaya Vishva Lekha Publishers

Contents

# I switched off my mobile phone! # “As I am, so are others; as others are, so am I” # Do your part to protect the earth # You cannot live alone, so help those who need! # How is it to feel jealous? # Can we live without getting hurt # How to enjoy a fire at 39,000 ft. # Haven’t you see, there is someone waiting to be nursed by you? # The Art of Living # The Art of Giving # Buddha’s last journey to Kusinara # Worries – are they worth worrying about? # I beg your pardon # Ten ways of perfection # Urgency

1

I switched off my mobile phone!

I left home early in the morning for Kandy to spend the forthcoming long weekend at the company holiday bungalow. As I was driving through Battaramulla I saw my friend Buddhi waiting for a bus towards Colombo.

A senior manager of a leading company with a company car, I was surprised to see him in denim jeans and a T shirt carrying a back-pack waiting for a bus like a tourist on a shoestring budget. I stopped the car, crossed the road and asked him what he was doing there.

“I am planning to go to Kandy on a holiday. I am waiting for a bus” he said quite casually.

“Come with me. I am also going to Kandy,” I said.

Buddhi liked the idea.

Still puzzled by what Buddhi said, I asked him “Why are you waiting for a bus, what happened to your car?”

“Ah, this is a different kind of a holiday, it is better to be without the car” he replied.

We placed his back-pack in the boot and set off.

“Tell me, what is this special holiday you are talking about, are you on a secret mission or doing a consumer research?” I asked.

“Yes, in a way it is a kind of research” Buddhi said.

I became even more inquisitive. Read the rest of this entry ?

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In My Kingdom of the Sun & the Holy Peak

February 24, 2014

Three Stories of the Betrayal, the Redemption and the
Last Phase of a Land and its People

By Tissa Abeysekara

Vijitha Yapa Publications

The Betrayal

AD 1778 – 1815

A WHITE HORSE AND THE SOLAR ECLIPSE

Myths and Legends of the Last Years of a Kingdom,

recounted in Samudraghosha.*

*Samudraghosa, is a metre widely used in both classical and folk forms of Sinhala poetry. It prescribes four rhyming lines, a quatrain, per stanza, which when sung are believed to simulate the sound of the sea. Like waves, each line overlaps with the next, until the last line rises sharply in a crescendo to end in a dying fall. Apart from this euphony, a four-line stanza written in Samudraghosa also attempts, especially in folk poetry, an unusual juxtaposition of imagery in that each line presents an image or an impression not obviously related to each other; only the last line qualifies the previous three lines and makes them fall into a coherent and unified sense.

 This story is written in Three Movements and each Movement is composed of four narrative strands complementing each other and converging to a point which takes the main story forward.

I

The Sun

Only the Kotmale river, a slender ribbon reflecting the white light falling from above, could be seen – a long luminous serpent, still, He came up slowly through the mist from the floor of the valley. The mist swirled up in columns along the mountainsides like smoke from a gigantic cauldron. Dawn was just breaking over the rim surrounding the valley. Down below, where the peasant huts of straw-thatched roofs were, huddled together like animals for warmth, it was still dark.silent, and waiting, hibernating in the cavernous dark of the valley.

Ponner Naekathar kept climbing steadily, not too fast, not too slow, his bare feet and splayed toes seeking each step on the paved pathway with instinctive assurance; the white quartz on the narrow path, worn smooth by millions of feet walking over them for centuries, were cool and wet with dew. The man looked up and noticed the sky brightening over the tip of Kadadora Hill, but there was no quickening of pace. Ponner Naekethar knew the exact moment when the sun would appear.

He was a small dark man with a long beard falling midway in his chest and he moved so easily, he seemed to float. He gave the impression of some enormous power coiled within him and the eyes were sharp, unblinking, and fiercely focussed.

Having reached the top of the Thispane Rock, Ponner Naekethar settled into the lotus position immediately. There was no pause in-between; the long walk flowed unbroken into the sitting position, and then everything about him became still, except the eyes that looked straight ahead towards the Kadadora Hill, now quite near and opposite him. The eastern sky over the hill was turning a luminous pink.

In a moment the sun flashed over the hill and Ponner Naekathar stared unblinking into the burning rays. Rainbow colours sprouted in a fountain and broke into a million particles of light and the small dark man with the fierce eyes of a serpent stared with eyelids frozen-open like in death. Shards of light, burning blades of steel, and multi-coloured splinters slashed through his eyeballs, and still he stared and the sun began to dance, spinning-turning-shivering-dazzling-burning, faster and faster into an explosion. ooooOOM! The sound kept turning in a cycle and the sky reappeared, cloudless and blue, sunless and cool, and then, first a white speck in the blue vastness and expanding slowly to fill the heavens, came the horse, the white horse with a hint of blue in its flanks, the mane waving in a milky streak, legs stretching and folding in a dance, galloping, yet moving like an awesome bird across the sky. Read the rest of this entry ?