Since 2018, I have been painting flowers I don’t know the names of. We all recognize certain flowers like Rosa, Delia, Tulip, and Nelum. We know them because we use them for weddings, funerals, religious offerings, and so on. But what do we know about Wal Sooriyakaantha, or Nidikuma, or Baloliya or Olida and many other flowers—the ones we call wild flowers? And would we use Kaneru or Niyagala to decorate our living room tables?

There are numerous flowers we have seen and barely noticed. We have given meanings to certain flowers: Rosa for love, Nelum for purity, Nil Manel for national identity. These flowers not only convey such meanings, but are also elevated to a higher status. They are never equal to a Nidikumba or Baloliya or Niyagala.

But all of these flowers grow on the same soil, the same earth. We have selectively identified some flowers over others and shoved the rest into unseen corners. We see them as මල් පැළ and වල් පැළ.

This is one way I understand Sri Lankan society. We give meanings to certain castes, classes, and people differently. Some are recognized and some are barely known. Some are dignified, while others are not. This high-low division, and system of value attached to it, continues to deepen the gap between have and have-nots, the known and the unknown. It is we who have given value to these distinctions.