Psalm 91

✍🏽 Disclaimer
This piece is a work of deeply personal testimony. It is written through the eyes of a survivor — someone who lived through the 2019 Easter Sunday Attacks in Sri Lanka and has spent years reckoning with the aftermath. This is not a news report. This is not an accusation. This is not a call to violence or division.

This is grief laid bare. This is faith in crisis. This is truth-telling from a scar that never fully healed.

The words within are raw by design. The narrative includes religious references, strong language, spiritual questioning, survivor’s guilt, and emotional tension. These elements reflect the writer’s lived reality and emotional process, not a rejection of any religion or community. Faith and doubt coexist in this story — as they do in many human hearts.

Names of public figures are mentioned only in reference to events already available in the public domain. This piece does not make any new factual claims — it reflects the internal journey of someone trying to understand how to live after being spared.

If you have experienced religious violence, war, or trauma, please read gently. The emotions expressed may mirror your own, or they may challenge you. Either way, this writing asks you not for agreement — only for presence.

To those in power: this is not a threat. It is a cry. Hear it.
To the reader: This is a piece of hope wrapped in rage. A prayer written as protest. A survivor asking the world to stop forgetting.

Let the world read. And let it not look away.

Side note: The alternating use of lowercase i and uppercase I throughout this piece is intentional. It reflects a vital part of the blog’s artistic and emotional expression. I apologise if it feels distracting — it’s meant to mirror the inner conflict and shifting sense of self explored in the writing. 
In other words,
I = i,  I, (i)I, I(i), (iI) or iI

Whoever goes to the Lord for safety, whoever remains under the protection of the Almighty, can say to Him:

"You are my defender and protector. You are my God; in you iI trust.

You will keep me safe from all hidden dangers and from all deadly diseases. You will cover me with your wings;  iI will be safe in Your care; Your faithfulness will protect and defend me. iI need not fear any dangers at night or sudden attacks during the day or the plagues that strike in the dark or the evils that kill in daylight.

A thousand may fall dead beside me, ten thousand all around me, but iI will not be harmed.”

iI will look and see how the wicked are punished.

Were the wicked punished?

*Or did some of them get away with a fine and an insincere apology? An apology they believe was good enough and does not need to be repeated? What good are apologies anyway? Is it time to let go and stop throwing stones?

*Is god trying to teach me all the different ways (iI) should turn the other cheek? You know, so (iI) really understand the lesson of forgiveness? And what better place than to teach it at church, right?

Location: St. Anthony’s Shrine, Kochichikade.
Photo credits: Verbum TV

On the 21st of April 2019, (iI) experienced how God faithfully fulfilled his promise to me. Either that, or God gifted me with a new hell loop. (iI) recited Psalm 91 like a parrot over and over and over again that day. (iI) chose to believe, at least in a god of Abraham (إِبْرَاهِيم).

"On Easter Sunday 2019, six suicide bombings hit Catholic churches and luxury hotels in Sri Lanka, killing 269 people. Quickly, the perpetrators were identified as domestic religious extremists the NTJ (National Thowheeth Jama’ath), claimed by Islamic State as their own." - The Guardian, 2023

(iI) didn’t have a choice but to believe. (iI), had to embrace Faith-we were long-lost friends rekindling our relationship that day. 

(iI) remained untouched. He didn’t see me as a big enough threat, (iI) suppose. Either that, or God (الله/יהוההוה) truly exists. (iI), was left behind. (iI) cannot say that (iI) truly thank my God (الله/יהוההוה) for being so faithful to me-a sinner, a doubter and a traitor.

My performance puts Judas to shame, at least he got paid. Then again, he did it with a kiss. (iI) would outright slap the god of Abraham for free. No, (iI) pay to do it.

*What can (iI) say, (iI) am competitive like that.

(iI) openly challenge my God (الله/יהוההוה) oh so publicly and God (الله/יהוההוה) has still been faithful to me.

Why do iI still get to live? They truly believed. They prayed for weeks preparing for Easter. iI am just an imposter. So why do iI get to live?

Yes, (iI) still wake up with the irrational fear each day, wondering if my family will find out about my assassination while mindlessly scrolling through Instagram. (iI) don’t know if it would be worse the other way around. That is how (iI) heard about the Easter attacks. 

*Thank you for your service, Hesh. (iI) think (iI) got my news from you 🫡 🇱🇰 You kept us more informed than the dubbed “leaders” of our country 🕊️

*Wait a minute, (iI) have openly criticised our God (الله/יהוההוה), and (iI) still remain unharmed? My God (الله/יהוההוה) really loves me that much?

I mean,

CURSE THIS FEMALE DOG OF A god! The kind who stays silent in the storm.Take your MOTHER CURSING goddamn shot.

Do you really exist, my lord? 

goddamnit, what does a woman have to do to die around here? Hmmm, maybe its the wrong god.

Fine. Let’s throw in the Greeks. The Egyptians. The whole pantheon. Curse all of them-god/s, he/she/they/them, إله
CURSE THEM ALL.
The Egyptians were delusional enough to believe their Pharaoh was god.

Well, CURSE pharaoh too! 

iI was born and raised in a Muslim country 🇴🇲. iI am a proud Sri Lankan 🇱🇰, but iI still call Oman one of my homes-and my goodness, the amount of inner peach 🍑 iI felt while praying to You (God/الله/יהוההוה) is beyond what words can describe.

St. Peter and Paul’s Church is so beautiful. iI loved gazing at the magnificent Altar.

It is Modern Architecture ⛪️.

It made worshipping You (God/الله/יהוההוה) easier for me.  

*Thank you Oman 🇴🇲. You helped me heal 🪬. (iI) come from privilege! 🫡

And by the way, we both feel the same way about Maryam. As for Jesus (يسى ابن مريم / المسيح) whether he was a Prophet, Your Son, G(g)od, politician, or activist, whatever the narrative is-we agree that he sounds like a solid dude. 

But keep one thing in mind: iI say, curse the god of Abraham!

(iI) know it sounds like utter irony in one sense, but seriously, it had been a while since (iI) stopped going to church. (iI) only went for Christmas, Easter and the 31st of January-the anniversary of Verbum TV. But the rumor is that it’s the date of my parents’ wedding anniversary. 

Both indisputable facts. Its all true-(iI) was far more excited for the chocolate eggs at home than receiving communion. The wafer they serve in church is bland and lacks “flavour” folks. And Easter isn’t just about the rituals we perform-it is for family to come together, much like Eid is for Muslims. Every country has its own way of celebrating it.

At my home, it starts by Achchi (Grandma) walking up to every single person, feeding Kiribath (Coconut milk rice). She would even feed the cat and dogs. The kids go nuts over the chocolate eggs-but not as much as Thathi (Dad) and (iI) do.

It is a day to leave our differences aside, a day to remind us that suffering does come to an end, that salvation truly does exist.

Why? Because God (الله/יהוההוה) loves unconditionally.

That day You decided to show me how much you loved me. iI was spared from being murdered by Ishmael (إِسْمَاعِيْل/יִשְׁמָעֵאל). iI still can’t figure out why. 

*The fear of being unconditionally loved by God makes me want to run-sometimes, literally 🏃‍♀️. And if (iI) can’t run, (iI) walk or even crawl on my belly, if that’s what it takes to get to the other side. 

No, wait-(iI)’m not on the farm anymore. (iI)’m stuck at sea. (iI)’m trying not to drown.

Yes.
That’s the narrative.

(iI) feel so much shame. It really should have been me.

Alawdeen Ahmed Muad, the suicide bomber that attacked St. Anthony’s Shrine at Kochchikade, was someone (iI) once called a friend.
A friend-that word still tastes strange in my mouth when paired with what he did. Sadly, the reason we had a fallout was over an argument over religion. Neither of us knew we had walked into the lion’s den.

(iI) had been warned by some teachers that my mouth would get me in trouble someday. (iI) didn’t believe it-untill (iI) saw his face plastered all over the news. That too was of him on his graduation. 

*Didn’t know the guy graduated. (iI) didn’t go for our graduation-(iI) was WFH 🇴🇲

“...an exile named Hanzeer Azad Maulana, who spent nearly 20 years working within the Rajapaksas’ inner circle as a translator and aide. And so we come finally to those headline allegations: Maulana says he was in the room when Gotabaya Rajapaksa ordered the founding of the Tripoli Platoon. Even more seriously, he says that in 2018, the year before the bombings, he brokered a meeting between NTJ members and Suresh Sallay, who was the Rajapaksas’ head of military intelligence. (Sallay, who was demoted to an outpost in Malaysia after the end of Mahinda Rajapaksa’s presidency in 2015, denies this, telling Dispatches he was in Malaysia at the time of the supposed 2018 meeting. Gotabaya Rajapaksa did not respond to requests to comment.)” - The Guardian, 2023

(iI) still don’t know if (iI) believe Hanzeer Azad Maulana when he said on Channel 4 that it was in the works for 3 years. The only thing (iI) know for certain is that Muad was radicalised 2 years before Maulana claims to have helped hire him.

Meaning, Muad’s “makeover” took place between 2014 - 2015.

Who was the President back then? Who can (iI) throw stones at?

 Muad’s change was pretty rapid after he failed his exams and our Facebook chat from what (iI) remember. (iI) think for a while, the whispers on the halls were: “Where is Muad?” 

The man disappeared into the void and made a grand entrance.

Like (iI) said, he had a “makeover”, to say the least, in what felt like a few months-at most, a year, right? 

(iI) looked into his eyes. He was a dead man walking. The kind you hear about on podcasts-people who join cults. The Muad (iI) knew died long before he pushed the button that led to doom. The Muad (iI) knew always had a smile on his face. He even got dressed for Halloween. He knew how tried to live in the moment.

(iI) had bigger problems to worry about than to keep tabs on the new whispers of “what happened to Muad?” Besides, (iI) was still resentful from our last conversation.

But kudos to him for graduating-the man really knew how to hustle 🥂

(iI) owe the victims-both dead and alive-of the Easter Attacks, an apology and (iI) can't even find the words. Yes, (iI) am well aware that if it weren't Muad, they would have hired someone else.

But it wasn't anyone else.
It was Muad.

And (iI) am the woman who told him to “f*ck off” because (iI) felt my truth was the only truth that mattered. In my sea, our God loved me more, and (iI) resented any narrative that challenged it.

Now, the most important question, who should (iI) be blaming? G(g)od?

To be continued…