Theatre people felicitate Hewakapuge

THEATRE: We felicitated this man called Somapala Hewakapuge, 'Some' to most of us, 'Some Maama' to a younger generation and 'Babu' to his many nephews, nieces and a whole generation of little and not so little grandchildren, on April 3 [just for the record] at the friendly and charming John de Silva Memorial Theatre.

I have never seen such a vast crowd at any felicitation ceremony I have witnessed in my 76 years of life. There were at least three generations of 'Theatre People' meaning writers, directors, actors, actresses, and back stage men and women. There were singers and musicians, dancers and choreographers, set designers and costume makers. There were men and women from the print media, from the Press and of course from the electronic media.

I am not sure how many formal 'invitations' would have been sent out by the organizers. Strangely enough there is no mention of a name or a title of the organizers, in the attractive souvenir that was distributed that night. But I saw many men and women of the theatre, the cinema and the electronic media busy with one duty or another at the entrance, in the hall and backstage.

I have a feeling that the majority of that vast audience that was there that night had, in fact, come without invitation. For most of them it was a 'pilgrimage' to pay their obeisance to a man they respected, loved and cherished.

So were the singers who sang hosannas for him - Nanda Malini, Sunil Edirisinghe and Victor Ratnayake and the conductor and composer, Rohana Weerasinghe. And of course the entire, enchanting orchestra. I don't think there was a single person in that setup who got 'paid' for his services which include the drummers and the Kandyan dancers who took 'Some' and his family by procession from the gates to the hall. For everyone concerned it was an act of sheer dedication.

Press

As Jayalath Manoratne, the presenter-par-excellence put it, Somapala Hewakapuge never penned a lyric or a poem, never wrote a play or a novel, never produced a play or a ballet, never published anything written by him. But HE WAS WITH ALL THE WRITERS, THE PLAYWRIGHTS, THE PRODUCERS AND DIRECTORS, THE ACTORS AND ALL SUCH PEOPLE ALL THE TIME DURING A LONG PERIOD OF NEARLY FIFTY YEARS. His little press at No.10, K.D.David Mawatha, Maradana [the I.P.B. press] with its 'Victoria' Press Machine and its 'Gold & Jobber' Printing Machine was the haven of writers, poets, playwrights, producers, directors, actors and aspiring young men of the theatre for over four decades.

Somapala, the youngest in a huge family of more than a dozen brothers and sisters was sent to Colombo by his mother to keep company to his elder brother Edwin when he came to Colombo to accept his appointment as Art Teacher at Kumara Vidyalaya, Kotahena.

The elder brother Edwin was an enterprising young man. In his little room near the main Dematagoda Railway Crossing, he soon started night classes to teach English to poor children - free of charge. He also started a small printing press and that is where Somapala broke his first 'printing teeth'. The duo later shifted to Maradana and started the I.P.B. Press. Very soon it came to be known as the poor man's press - or rather poor Theatre Man's press.

Young men like me at that time, could not afford to get our theatre posters, hand bills and souvenirs etc. done at more expensive printing presses with their array of off-set machines etc. Edwin and Somapala had evolved a new mode of poster-designing.

They cut their designs [or rather dug] into a sheet of linoleum and obtained excellent results, exceeding the flip and polish of the products of off-set machines. Naturally, we who got up a play with the skin of our souls, so to say, made a beeline to I.P.B. at Maradana. If I remember right, the very first 'linoleum poster'was designed and printed by Edwin and Somapala for my play 'KUVENI', which had won several awards at the State Drama Festival. The year was 1963.

From then onwards, there was no looking back for Edwin and 'Some'. Entertainment people visited them by the hoards and clamoured for their services. Edwin, the elder brother, known to everyone as 'Iskole Mahattaya' was the man in charge and 'Some' was his assistant. Most of the theatre men who sought their services could hardly afford to pay the printing bill - they worked under such difficult circumstances. It was mostly a matter of 'denggnag kaasi' [pay later]

Edwin was a bit of a taskmaster and would not willingly agree to such an arrangement unless he 'knew' the client well. So it was to Somapala the poor theatre men took their woes and asked for relief. 'Some' would somehow 'smuggle' the posters etc. out of the back door and provide relief to the poor fellow.

Episode

In the evening he would ride his ramshackle scooter to Havelock Town Theatre to collect the dues. When he sees the poor crowds he finds no heart to ask for payment of the printing bill. He would pat the director on the shoulder and mumble 'passe balamu' [let it be later], watch the play and depart, after making a present of his last fifty rupees to the producer.

This was no single, isolated episode. I am not sure whether the producer paid his bill later, but Somapala never complained. He would mumble something to his brother and get on with the next job.

No wonder the hall was full at the felicitation to Somapala Hewakapuge. A good many of them could well have been his 'nayakarayas' [debtors] Carrying on with I.P.B. was no easy task with so many 'chit karayas'.

But they somehow managed - the two of them with a staff of three or four printers, binders etc. I.P.B. was closed down a few years ago, by which time Edwin, the elder brother was no more.

The Entertaiment Industry had really taken the proportions of a massive 'Industry' with all kinds of modern gadgetry such as digital printing and massive publicity budgets controlled by big companies and corporations. A little press like I.P.B. [according to Jayalath Manoratne, 'INDA PODDAK BALANDA' PRESS]could hardly survive.

Just for the record I.P.B. actually stood for 'International Publications Bureau' - a very ambitious undertaking. But the Press DID SERVE ITS PURPOSE at a crucial time of our Theatre and Entertainment scene - from the sixties to the nineties, when 'quality' and not 'publicity' was the criteria.

To come on a personal note, I have known Somapala Hewakapuge for over forty years - ever since he was a sprightly young man.

He printed ALL my theatre posters from Janelaya [1962] to Makara and up to the revival of Hunuwataya in 1999 and 2004. He printed all our tickets and did all our souvenirs. That is business.

Apart from that he has been our family friend, mentor and helper-in-need, for the same length of time. As Nanda Malini put it quite rightly that night, he was always there at your time of need, especially when you are in sorrow. Be it an illness, a tragedy, a wedding, a moment of happiness, 'Some' would be the first to arrive. He would suddenly drop in, from the blues as it were - as if by premonition, when he was most needed.

Theatre festival

Sompala was responsible for our very first outstation Theatre Festival, at Matara, in 1967 - this was almost after Hunuwataya. We had a festival of four of my plays - Janelaya, Kuveni, Tavat Udesanak and Hunuwataye Katawa.

It was a Theatre Festival-cum-Seminar-cum-a-cricket match. In the mornings we conducted a Seminar plus Mini Workshop at the Rahula College auditorium. Followed by a sea bath at Polhena before lunch. Then lunch, a little bit of rest and performances at 3.30 and 6.30 in the evenings. We had a five day Festival with two days of Hunuwataya and one day of the other three plays.

We were put up at Meddawatte, in a sprawling bungalow occupied by Somapala's brother-in-law Yapa Abeywardena [Tojo Mudalali of Matara] and his family. We were young and we knew no weariness. And so, after the day's performances were over it was a long sing-song at Mr. Abeywardene's house, where he, our host, took the role of Master of Ceremonies and the sole player of the harmonium. He chose the night's fare both culinary and musical.

Of course after a few 'cups' we sang our own songs, did our own mimes at which the host, Mr Abeywardena and his charming wife and children were rapt spectators. It was well past midnight that we retired to bed in the sprawling dormitory on the third floor of the house. If not for the seminars and workshops in the morning, starting at 9 a.m. sharp, we would have gone on longer.

Delightful days

Those were delightful days and Somapala was a fine organizer as well as an indefatigable host. During meal times he would pry us with all kinds of Southern delicacies of which the 'halmesso beduma' was one of our favorites. I had to caution 'Some' NOT to overfeed our men and women lest they fall asleep on the stage!

Once one of our actors had partaken too much of 'kiri peni' during lunch that we had to somehow find 'toilet leave' for him during the matinee performance. Fortunately he was the 'Narrator' and he had plenty of free time between scenes!

My dear 'Some' - Somapala Hewakapuge, my brother, we all owe you a debt of gratitude. The others paid it to you on April 3 at the John de Silva Memorial Theatre with that memorable evening of 'DAYABARA 'SOME'. Here is MY personal tribute to you for half a century of dedication to our cause - not that it is enough!

Thought of the week

'Avurudu' has come and gone. It is a time when the whole country comes to a halt during 'Nonagathe'. It is also the time when families, however far spread they are, come together for the first meal, Veda Alleema, Ganu Denu, Hisa Thel Gaema, and other Avurudu Charitra.

The men and women working far away from home make a beeline to the big bus stands and main railway stations for their journey home. All the factory girls, free trade men and women, all the Baas Unnehes, carpenters, shop assistants, domestic aides and a myriad of other employees in and around Colombo who have saved for Avurudu for a full year, make a beeline to the Fort railway station or the main bus terminal at Pettah, just a day or two before Avurudu to take a train or a bus which will take them HOME. And this is where the RUB comes in.

In spite of repeated announcements over the print and electronic media about extra trains and buses etc. the actual experience of getting into a bus or a train becomes a Herculian task.

The Pettah bus terminal is one of the worst experiences for a traveller during this time. It is muddy, full of pot holes, unkempt, and in total disorder. On a rainy day especially, it could be hell for the traveller. Worse still, there are no toilet facilities for such a vast number of people. If any there are, they are unusable and run by a self appointed 'toilet mafia'.

My wish for the next Avurudu is that travelling is made as easy and comfortable as possible for the poor, weary, home-bound traveller. Clean up the Pettah bus terminal, provide essential amenities and make it as pleasant as Avurudu should be. That would be the BEST AVURUDU PRESENT to the traveller from the authorities.

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