Dr P. R. Anthonis
Tribute:
Professor Ananda W. P. Guruge
The death of Sri Lanka’s most eminent and renowned and deservingly
legendary surgeon, Desamanya Dr. P. R. Anthonis, within days of reaching
the hundredth birthday, engulfed thousands of his friends and
well-wishers in depths of sorrow. We have all been beneficiaries of his
superior talent as a healer and his remarkable generosity and example as
a human being. It is but natural, therefore, that praise for and
appreciation of his notable services should accompany our heartfelt
condolences to his family and relatives.
I consider it my duty as a close friend and admirer of Dr. Anthonis
to highlight an aspect of his many-splendored personality, which
endeared him to several generations of his associates. He was a man of
letters whose love for literature - especially modern Sinhala poetry of
all forms - and Sri Lankan history and culture was deep-seated. He read
widely and with his remarkable memory could quote appropriately from
both classics and folklore.
My first meeting with him has left an indelible memory. It was a time
of extreme anxiety for me. The surgeons in Kandy had come to the
conclusion that my mother’s life could be saved only by the amputation
of her right leg. I was so upset and desolate that my brother-in-law,
Dr. Alick A. Jayasinghe, then Acting Director of Health Services, and
one-time student of Dr. Anthonis took me early morning one day to his
clinic in what was then called Turret Road.
The tall, handsome and fair-complexioned doyen of surgeons received
us most courteously. By his name and appearance, I took him to be a
person of European descent. The two doctors discussed my mother’s case
in their medical jargon in which the frequent use of the word “necrosis”
conveyed to me the gravity of my mother’s problem. Dr. Jayasinghe was
asked to get in touch with the doctors in Kandy.
While he was on the telephone, Dr. Anthonis switched on to Sinhala
and asked me, “ Do you really think that the new form of blank verse in
Sinhala introduced by G. B. Senanayake has a future?” To say that I was
surprised beyond imagination would be an understatement.
Why ask me that question? I thought. But he provided the answer. He
had read an article I had contributed a few years ago as a student to
the Sinhala Society Journal of the University on “Nisades Kavi” (meterless
poetry). As we discussed the subject, my admiration for him as a
purveyor of knowledge on Sinhala literature grew. His leisure time hobby
was the study of Sinhala poetry. The result was instant friendship,
which had lasted over five decades. Of course, he saved my mother’s leg
and she could walk up to her death thirty years later.
A bigger surprise awaited me when I called on him to thank him. He
produced from his drawer a bulky anthology of Sinhala folk poetry which
he had compiled over years and neatly handwritten in his own pearl-like
letters.
He must have read it many times over. He could turn to whatever poem
he wanted in seconds. Out meeting which turned out to be a prolonged
literary discussion went on well past his time for lunch. I tried to
excuse myself and his response to me was in verse:
“Sastre daenagat veda-mahatunta Gostare naetiveyi hari velavata”
(A physician well versed in his knowledge Never would have his meals
in time)
He also recited a series of verses exchanged between his father and
maternal grandfather. So poetry was nothing new to the Anthonis family.
How very intensely he had pursued his hobby. I was flattered that he
had read and remembered much of my writings on the subject long before
we met. Coming to know each other and sharing a common interest in all
aspects of the national culture, he proved to be an exceedingly
effective motivator for me to pursue my interest in writing. We met
quite often. Hardly had he missed any of my TV, radio or public
presentations. The day I retired from the Ceylon Civil Service in search
of new pastures abroad, he was at the airport to see me off.
Even when the plane was late by several hours he would not leave and
that was at the height of his career when he was the most sought-after
surgeon in the Island.
He had been a most remarkable correspondent whose letters were both
newsy and stimulating. His last letter just a few months ago was on
aerial vehicles in literature and folklore. He was asking me whether
Wariyapola could really mean an airport. Age and professional
engagements never dimmed his love and admiration of national literature,
history and culture.
Many an audience at several book launching ceremonies I have had in
Colombo were thrilled to find this outstanding man of science and
medicine speaking on literature and history with confidence and
insightful mastery.
The day Mr. S. W. R. D. Bandaranaike was assassinated, Dr. Anthonis
came on the national radio to give the nation a medical bulletin on the
Prime Minister’s condition. Repeating ‘Attanagalla’ thrice with emotion,
he drew the attention of the listeners and proceeded to announce the sad
news with parallels in history. His oratory in both English and Sinhala
was excellent.
His interest in education was life-long. His period of service as the
Chancellor of the Colombo University was marked by devotion and
involvement. He did not treat his position to be purely ceremonial.
It is such a rare man of manifold talent and dedication that the
nation lost with the death of Dr. P. R. Anthonis. May his journey in
Samsara be short and may he attain the ultimate bliss of Nibbana. |