From Colombo to the Cosmos

How a Sri Lankan Boy Dreamed in Hollywood VFX

When I was around twelve years old, I had a life-altering encounter—not with a spiritual guru or a philosophical text, but with a VHS tape. Two, to be precise. Star Wars and The Terminator. That double bill of space opera and cybernetic chaos quite literally rewired my brain. While other kids were busy playing cricket or learning the finer points of being a doctor/lawyer/engineer (South Asian holy trinity), I was off daydreaming about galaxies far, far away and Austrian robots with questionable morals.

By the time I finished school in Colombo, I knew, unequivocally, that I wanted to work in the cinema industry. Not as an actor—no, my face was far too expressive for that—but behind the scenes, where magic really happens. The only catch? I lived in Sri Lanka. And let’s just say the local cinema industry didn’t quite have the infrastructure for intergalactic wars or Skynet-style takeovers.

Worse still, I had absolutely no idea what I was doing. I didn’t know a Fresnel from a fluorescent, and the only time I had shouted “Action!” was while directing my cousins in a highly questionable home movie involving a cricket bat, a dog, and a lot of shouting. (We don’t talk about that film.)

But, like every good South Asian child with big dreams and limited context, I did what we do best: I enrolled in a tertiary education institute. Graphic design, multimedia, and post-production—words that sounded impressive enough for my parents and just vague enough to cover my actual goal of breaking into cinema.

Two weeks in, I realised something crucial: theory was like learning to swim on dry land. All well and good until someone actually throws you into the deep end. I needed real, messy, chaotic, on-set experience. I needed to see how the proverbial sausage was made.

So I did what any mildly delusional, overly ambitious creative would do—I hustled. I wrote letters, sent emails, begged for meetings, and generally made a nuisance of myself in every production house across Colombo. And eventually, the stars (or a particularly exhausted production manager) aligned.

I got my first break as a production assistant.

Was it glamorous? Absolutely not. I spent most of my time fetching coffees, untangling cables, and trying to look useful while secretly Googling the difference between a dolly shot and a jib arm. But I loved every moment. I was finally in. On set. Part of something. Witnessing the magic of creative collaboration—even if it was just a shampoo commercial.

That first gig in Colombo was the flicker that lit the projector of my career. It was chaotic. It was exhilarating. It was the start of a journey that would take me from the humid streets of Sri Lanka to the drizzle of London, the hustle of Shanghai, and eventually, the sun-drenched, eucalyptus-scented charm of Adelaide, South Australia.

But that’s a story for another blog.

Stay tuned.