Iridata Palliyedi (Mage Massina) Lyrics by Daddy

On Sunday at church, on Monday in class,
even on Tuesday I’ll meet you again

On Wednesday and Thursday, I’ll steal a kiss on Friday
There’s no Saturn for us, as long as my brother-in-law stays away

We’ve talked it all over, Saturday
won’t be counted as a day in my week
From the day I started loving you, this much became clear to me
That from the weekend on, when I’m free
my brother-in-law shows up and locks my girl away
It isn’t fair, taking Saturday away from us
Even if Saturn won’t be met, every single other day is ours

The sun rises on Saturday
but I can’t smile on Saturday
I can’t eat, I can’t drink
there’s no work for me on Saturday
Nothing feels right on Saturday
I get no sleep on Saturday
Even my calendar loses Saturday, as long as my brother-in-law is around
Even if Saturn won’t be met, every single other day is ours

This is a playful, clever song built entirely out of the Sinhala names for the days of the week, and the joke at its heart only works once you know how those names sound. A young man wants to be with the girl he loves every single day. He maps out their week, Sunday at church, Monday in class, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, a stolen kiss on Friday. Every day is a chance to see her, except one.

The trouble is Saturday. In Sinhala, Saturday is “Senasurada,” and it carries the name of the planet Saturn, “Senasuru” or “Shani,” the planet astrology treats as the harsh, blocking, unlucky one. So when he sings “there’s no Saturn for us,” he is wishing away both the planet and the day it rules. The villain of the song, the one he keeps calling “mage massina” (my brother-in-law), is really Saturn dressed up as a relative who keeps showing up and “locking my girl away.” That is the wordplay: the malefic planet has become the meddling in-law who ruins the one day a week the couple should finally have free.

The comedy lives in how heartbroken he pretends to be about a single day. Saturday is the weekend, the day he is finally off work and should be free to see her, and that is exactly the day taken from him. So he goes full melodrama: on Saturday he can’t smile, can’t eat, can’t drink, can’t sleep, nothing feels right. He even decides to strike Saturday off his calendar altogether, as if refusing to count it will make the misery go away.

Underneath the joke is something sweet and very human. He is so smitten that even one lost day out of seven feels unbearable, and he keeps comforting himself with the same line, that even if Saturday and its unlucky star are beyond reach, every other day still belongs to the two of them. It’s a light song about young love that turns a calendar and a bit of astrology into a running gag, and the affection in it is real.