A rebellion round the corner

THEATRE: Edwin and I took a train back to Colombo and as promised he handed me back to Manel as a cured man. We were back to Normal. Manel too looked rested and I was very happy about that. For the first time after our marriage [in 1962] we sort of took stock of things.

By now we had been married for seven years. We had produced as many plays during that period. We decided to take a rest and not plunge into anything for some more time. We would do the shows that come our way, but take them on more leisurely.

Although we had produced seven plays in seven years, we had not produced something our very own - meaning a child. We decided it was time for that. Meanwhile there were hushed rumours of an uprising. In fact I had felt it when some of the youth had made such a fuss and protested against my play 'Apata Puthe - Magak Nethe'.

The play was about them. But they did not want a hero who hangs himself. [They failed to realize that my real hero was the mother and not the son] They did not want university students who cover behind a tear gas attack.

They wanted sterner stuff. In fact they held several protest discussions about the play. No, they did not invite me for any of them. I got several warnings from friends and well-wishers that the J.V.P. men and women were not too pleased with me.

I had never dabbled in politics. But I knew a number of leftist politicians such as Senators Reggie Perera and Chandra Gunasekera, T.B. Subasinghe and leftward trade unionists such as I.J. Wickrema and K.C. Nithiyananda. My work would have indicated to anyone that I was a humanitarian - not bound to any political party.

I had a gut feeling that something was going to blow over soon. Now I realized that that could have been one of the reasons for my dejection too.

Anyway I brushed aside the warnings etc and concentrated on my work - not as hectically as before, but at a slower speed. We did not take on as hectic a schedule as we had done before, but took on shows only during weekends.

Pregnancy

Somewhere in September that year - 1969 - Manel told me she was pregnant. That one soft word made a world of difference for me. I mended most of my 'bad' ways and became a much more dutiful and concerned husband. Manel bore her pregnancy very lightly. There were no bouts of throwing up, no special 'dola duka' and no tantrums.

She just got ready and took the 113 bus with me to work every morning. Even when the pregnancy was showing she hardly slowed down.

When our friendly conductor and the driver of the bus saw us coming they would wait for us and the kindly conductor would show a seat for Manel in the lower deck She would smile and say "Ne mata thaama puluwan" [No, I can still] and climb up to the upper deck dragging her protesting husband behind her! The conductor would smile, embarrassed, and signal the bus to start. Such was the courtesy during those good old days!

By about the fourth or fifth month we had to give Hunuwataya a rest - we could not perform it without a Grushe. The other plays went on. But, as I said before , the youth of the country seemed to be preoccupied with other more important things than staging plays. Rohana Wijeweera was holding sway over the rural youth.

Manel did not have any 'dola duka' of any significance but she had a definite apathy. That was a batik shirt that I was fond of wearing. That was made to measure for me by our famous Vajira. "I see you wearing the same old shirts all the time.

You must have something nice and artistic to wear on special occasions." She told me presenting the shirt to me. It was a nice fit and I was fond of wearing it. Manel had no objection to it BEFORE she got pregnant, but after that the shirt was anathema to her. I did not ask why but simply stopped wearing it. It must be one of those womanly apathies. Who knows what goes inside the mind of a woman!

On July 20, 1970, Manel delivered a son at De Soysa Maternity Home. He was a bonny boy with a crop of jet black hair on his head. Manel delivered the baby after a ceasarian.

In about a week's time we brought the baby home with great jubilation. I named our son Soumya Sudaraka. It means a good peaceful child. [He has turned out to be just that!] Manel was nursing the baby when she suddenly came out with a bout of measles.

She was heartbroken that she had to discontinue the feeding. [Later we came to know that even with measles the feeding could have been continued and that the child would not contact it.]

Umbilical cord

Just before that we had another scare too. The umbilical cord had fallen but the child was red in the naval area and ran a high temperature. We got down our friend Dr. B.P.N. Jayasekera. He examined the child, prescribed some medicine and left.

The fever persisted and we phoned the doctor again. "I was going to call you." He said. "I am arriving immediately. Keep the fever down somehow . Cover the child with ice, if you have to, but keep the fever down."

He came immediately and went straight to the child and gave him an injection. What had happened was that there had been an internal infection where the umbilical cord had fallen. The doctor too had realized it on second thoughts. With the injection the fever went down immediately. Much later the good doctor told us that ten minutes more and the child could have gone into fits. Sudaraka was a lucky child.

When the measles came we had to separate the child from the mother. That was the most difficult part. At that time we were living in a twin house at Jambugasmulla and our neighbours were a Mr. and Mrs. Abeysekera. I just wrapped the baby in a blanket and took him over there. "Mrs Abey, you will have to look after this child for two weeks."

I told her and put him on a bed. Actually they were having some visitors when I barged in like that. Mrs. Abey did not even raise an eyebrow. She just smiled and got about preparing the bed for the child. Of course we were good friends.

The Abeysekeras had two grown up daughters, Preethimalie and Darshanie. The elder Preethimalie was in Law College and the younger girl was in school. They must have been surprised to see such a tiny visitor in their home, when they got back home.

Deprived of mother's milk the child had to be given some other baby milk. We were asked to give the child a baby milk called S.M.A. These were very difficult to find those days, when everything was rationed. Fortunately we had a friend - one Mr. Gunawardhana, who was a member of the Stage & Set crowd of the Lionel Wendt Theatre - and he helped us because he happened to be a staffer of the company that distributed S.M.A.

And so, for two weeks our neighbour, Mrs. Abeysekera looked after our child. from the next door. Every time Manel hears the child crying from the adjoining house, she too would come out in a flood of tears. It took all the guile I had in me to pacify her.

Finally the child was brought back home, but by then Manel could not feed him because she had dried up during that time. We continued to feed the baby with S.M.A., which we obtained with great difficulty.

'Day bird'

Our son, Sudaraka was a 'day bird.' He would sleep during day and keep us up at night. As Manel was recuperating, I took on the duty of lulling the child when he gets up every fifteen minutes or so and starts crying. I would carry him up and down the hall and sing 'Muni Siripa Simbiminne, Samanola giri pedesinne' endlessly. That was the only lullaby he would respond to. Our Cecelin Amme was a great help too. She would fuss over the child for the slightest thing.

Our son was just nine months old when the J.V.P. insurrection hit the country. On the 5th of April 1971, the country was taken by storm. Several Police Stations were attacked simultaneously and there was mayhem in the country. People were scared to get out of their houses. Goods became scarce and people were in panic. Fortunately we had stocked a few S.M.A. tins so the child did not go hungry. As for us who were not committed to any political party, times were unpredictable and scary.

The Govt was battling it out with the J.V.P. Thousands of young men and women were rounded up and put into rehabilitation camps. Some suffered worse fates. Those who opposed the rebellion also suffered and some marked people were killed. I had just become a father and according to warnings received earlier my life also could have been in danger. And this was ONE TIME I wanted to live and see our son grow up.

The Govt. was acting fast to put down the rebellion. One day I was called to Minister T.B. Subasinghe's house. He sent his car to fetch me. [I wonder how many cars a Minster was allowed those days. It could not have been more than one or two?] "Henry we want to tackle this problem with the least amount of harm to these misguided young men and women.

Perhaps you understand them better than me. I want you to draft an appeal of pardon to them. It should not be apologetic from our side. It should appeal to their good sense and sanity. Work over it tonight and let me have it tomorrow morning," said the Minister.

Thought of the week

All of this week I have been going through the Book of the Year that was launched at a simple ceremony at the S.L.F.I. Auditorium at a very simple ceremony the other day - on the 21st of April to be exact.

I mean the momentous publication LESTER by LESTER, compiled by Kumar de Silva and published by Vijitha Yapa Publications. It was a very pleasant evening where we shared our memories working with Lester, with the Audience.

First Iranganie Serasinghe and I shared our memories, followed by Malini Fonseka and Ravindra Randeniya. Lester himself making the last speech in his inimitable style - full of humour and innuendo.

- "I have been talking for five years and Kumar has been listening for five years.!" Having said all that I have a small grouse with the book - rather a bone to pick - I don't know with whom.

It contains black and white or coloured pictures of all my contemporaries - of course related to each film such as Rekhawa, Delovak Athara, Ran Salu, Gamperaliya, Nidhanaya etc. I thought that Gamperaliya would carry the famous picture of the 'teaching scene'. I rather think that picture epitomizes the conflict as well as the spirit of Gamperaliya. After all it is from these 'teaching scenes' that the whole drama evolves.

Apart from all that, I would have LOVED to be in the company of others such as Iranganie Serasinghe, Punya Heendeniya, Joe Abeywickrama, Gamini Fonseka, Tony Ranasinghe, and ladies and gentlemen of the next generation such as Ravindra Randeniya, and Sanatah Gunatilleke in this momentous publication.

Alas it was not to be. I have been in three of Lester's films - Gamperaliya, Beddegama and Kaliyugaya and going through the book I felt a little 'left out'. I hasten to add that I am not inconsolably hurt about the lapse, but that I am just a little 'hurt'!

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