Gaveen Prabhasara

SysAdmin, Programming Language Tourist, and Petty Dabbler of the Written Word

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We are on our own

I’m early to work, because the roads are mostly empty. That’s not because of an extended holiday season. No, that finished last week. People are trying to stay home because of the Easter Sunday Attacks—they are uncertain where to go from here.

As I type these words away, I’m but a walking distance away from Mahawela Gardens, where one gruesome episode of Sunday’s events took place. I also hear stories in the background about colleagues who have lost family members. I think back to Sunday, as it unfolded, I remember holding my baby tightly in my arms while my mind kept repeatedly asking for his forgiveness for the world that we have created for his generation.

There’s no point of leaving yet another anecdote of the terror that took the lives of at least 310 people (including both Sri Lankans and friends of Sri Lanka) and left twice as many injured. They attacked places of worship, they...

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I thought I knew

I thought I knew how being a father would be. I have a father, a good one. I understood that much. I have nephews and nieces, and I love them to bits. I understood that much. So when we become pregnant, I thought I had a pretty strong grip on how being a parent felt.

I knew I wasn’t nearly ready as I wanted to be, but I didn’t think I had a big gap of understanding on how a father felt about their child. I had experienced a large swath of the human emotion spectrum, and I’ve gathered a lifetime of experiences leading to that point. So, I thought I knew how being a father would feel.

And then, I became a father. Just like the flipping of a switch, everything was turned to 11.

My ears wanted to hear every single sound my son made, my eyes didn’t want to rest so that I may not miss a single movement of his tiny limbs. I was fiercely protective of him from the every so slight change in...

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Whatever happened to that book?

Today is the Sinhala (and Tamil) New Year day. As I sit in front of the computer to partake in my trade—as one does according to tradition—I want to try an answer a certain question.

Whatever happened to that book you were writing?—is not a question I have been asked too many times. You see, I am not a well-known writer at all—but I digress. I have in fact, been working for a while on at least two, maybe two and a half books—none of which are actually ready yet.

  • an untitled poetry book (in Sinhala)
  • an untitled sci-fi novel (in English)
  • an untitled poetry maybe chapbook (in English)

If—for whatever unfathomable reason—you wish to know more about what has been happening with these, you might like this update. Let me start with what is closest to being complete.


Untitled poetry book (Sinhala) #

Eventhough I work in technology—and am very passionate about that—there are other...

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This one weird trick can increase your information security—Mind the (air) gap

The year is 2019. People are connecting all sorts of things to the internet. I am sort of surprised I even have to mention this but—for the most part, we are not really thinking this through.

For the last five years, I have been working with a group of companies—with whom I have worked before—to get a data center business up and running. Our team did not forget that everything is on the cloud now, we just remembered clouds also need to be made of something—Linux servers, mostly.

While this has been ongoing, I have also seen “Internet of Things” (IoT) go from a mere buzzword to an internet breaking, botnet making steam roller. Chances are, as you read this, you also have “smart” devices connected to the internet.

This is not really news. We have been connecting things to the internet even before Internet of Things became a thing and we started slapping the “smart” sticker to everything...

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Paying for the free services

You may be already tired of hearing this, or at the least, you must have heard a variation of this—"if something is free, you may be the price paid". While I think this is cynical, I cannot disagree that it holds up true in many things we happily consume today.

Like it or not, we are in an era of transition—specially when it comes to the way we think about privacy. For the most part, we have been complacent in selling our privacy in exchange of some conveniences. We are complacent enough to let Google track our every movement, as long as it can give us turn-by-turn directions with live traffic updates. We are complacent enough to let Amazon listen to us in our homes, as long as it can order things for us. We are complacent enough to let Apple deny customers full-ownership of the products they already paid for, as long as we get shiny new gadgets to carry around. We are complacent enough...

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What is the meaning of that poem?

I am a poet, and that much I can say without the uncertainty I allude in the current bio section of this blog which reads “SysAdmin, Programming Language Tourist, and Petty Dabbler of the Written Word”, or my first post here.

My work as a poet, or a writer is mainly to write. But, I write mainly for the sheer joy of reading it back, in every way I get to. Let me explain that a little bit.

Once I have something written and shared, it is yours to read, mine too. When you read it, if you think what I wrote is profoundly about a fat lady dancing like an angel on a tight rope over the Grand Canyon while wearing a pygmy hippopotamus as her head wear, then, it is about that too.

In short, I do not think poetry has an intrinsic nature as poetry without the reader. At least, this is my current level of understanding. I, like many before me, have thought long, hard, and often enough about this...

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Here we go

Where should I begin? Is this on?

Hello there! Welcome, fellow human being, and of course, any other that is reading. This is presumably Gaveen, and—despite all my efforts—you have found my blog. If this is the choice of Steins;Gate, who am I to complain!

There are no grand introductions here, nor any road maps to unveil—just the simple realization to be had that I may have moved my blog yet another time. There is however, a simple promise to write when I can, and a promise to enjoy the promise of writing.

To say the least, I write because I enjoy writing. Even more, I write for the joy of reading it afterwards and enjoying it in the ever so slightly different way I possibly can. The trick is to have someone else along for the ride, which would make things far better. Hopefully, this is where you come in.

So, here we go, fellow traveller. One part of my journey is over and behind me...

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