The 12th installation of the Gavel Club of University of Colombo was the midnight sky. Stars scattered. A little dark, a little glow. It wasn’t just a theme. It felt like a bunch of young souls getting ready to shine in the dark. That evening, I wasn’t just one person.
The day before, my hands were covered in paint, and I was a painter for the canvas. By the next day, I was an artist on the stage, a character in the drama. In between, I was inducted as a Gavelier, receiving a certificate, and being recognized as a sub-committee member of education. I was everywhere. And yet, I was fully present in every moment.
But awards and roles fade. What stays is the feeling. No one was there for money. No one was there for fame.
“We didn’t gather for what we got. We gathered for who we became together.”
That was the pulse of the day. Everyone moved with one promise: “Let’s make this event beautiful and memorable for each other”.
For many, Gavel is home. For me, it’s something quieter and deeper. It’s dignity. It’s a mirror that showed me I can speak. And then it came to an end, my favorite memory.
The event was over. Flashes were popping. Everyone was grouping for photos. I was away for a minute. When I returned, voices were calling me, almost scolding me. “Where were you? We were shouting your name. We need you in the photo!”
I smiled. And I remembered.
In school, my friends would take photos without me. Back then, I would shrink. “Why am I always the one missing?” But that night in Twilight Overture, the same absence felt different.
“It’s not about being in every picture. It’s about being missed when you are not in one.”
That’s what Gavel does. It doesn’t just put you in the picture. It makes you matter enough that people look for you when you’re not there. So, it was a twilight, not an ending, but an overture. A memorable and starry beginning.