There are those who stay when they go
It was a Tuesday. Ratnayake Hall. Dumbara Campus, Peradeniya
University. First day. I remember it being a cold morning. There was an
English test. An hour, perhaps a little longer. I am not sure if there
was one of those orientation-programs after the exam, although I do
remember Prof Ashley Halpe giving a lecture on responsibility to us
freshers around the time. I know one thing for sure. I didn’t know that
Sisira Premashantha existed.
I didn’t know of him until a few weeks later when there was an
athletic meet to select the Arts Faculty First Year Athletics Team for
the Inter-Faculty Freshers’ Meet. I believe he won most of the track
events. I remember someone referring to him as Naaththandiye Pora (The
Dude from Nattandiya, if you will). He led the Athletics team to some
spectacular victories at this meet. I remember being beaten to third
place in the 5000m race by a Science Faculty fresher. There were only
three in the race. Later Sisira represented the Faculty and left the
competition far behind in the 100m, 200m and the 400m too, if I remember
right. He went on to represent Peradeniya in the Inter University Games.
Human life
When you’ve known someone for a quarter of a century, you have enough
and more anecdotes to relate. Yes, even the most boring of characters
are story-made and a narrator with memory can do wonders with moment,
event, personality and their intersections with larger processes,
institutions and the people who inhabit these things. Every human life
is an epic, Sisira’s too. Impossible to write down in minute detail.
Some stories though are memorable, others not. Sisira is made of many
stories and these included some pithy observations and some crazy
explanations for the way things are. Let me relate one to give a sense
of the many flavours that made Sisira.
About 20 of us decided to climb Sri Pada. This was in 1998 if I
remember right. It was, naturally, a tiring pilgrimage. We went up one
evening, stayed at the peak to watch the sun rise, worshipped, and
climbed down.
By the time we reached the Sama Chaithyaya, built by the Japanese, we
were quite knackered. We stopped to rest awhile. No one spoke. Just too
tired. Sisira broke the silence. Here’s a rough translation.
I remember also a far more sober comment. It happened a year before
the Sri Pada trip. We had just entered the second year and therefore
were new to Peradeniya (Arts students spent their first year at Dumbara
Campus, Polgolla back then).
Sri Pada trip
This meant that we were ‘new’ and therefore fair game for raggers. We
had antagonized students from two batches senior to us, i.e. the 4th
year students. One day I was ordered to accompany them to their rooms in
Arunachalam Hall. Had no choice. Went. My best friends were all on the
floor. There were about 10 of us and about 20 of ‘them’. They told us,
kindly, that they were according us the favour of saying whatever we had
to say. This is what Sisira said:
‘When I entered campus I thought this was a wonderful place to be. I
thought that the truth triumphs here, that justice has meaning. Today I
realize that the truth is not what wins. Power.’
I remember that day. The setting. The man. I remember other days. I
remember how he led a residence hall called ‘Hindagala’ (aka ‘Lenin’) to
the Inter-Hall Volleyball Championship. How he led our batch to the
Inter-Batch Volleyball Championship. How he led the Arts Faculty to the
Inter-Faculty Volleyball Championship and the Peradeniya University to
the Inter-University Volleyball Championship. He was no longer the sleek
freshman who scorched the cinder track back in 1985 and 1986. He was
heavy. Bellied. A great leader. A fantastic sense of humour. And a man
who, despite the philosophical thoughts uttered that day at Arunachalam
Hall stood up to the JVP thugs in the late eighties along with a handful
of his batchmates.
Political commentators
He was not a man of many words. He was a man of many smiles. On
October 19, 2010, sometime between 4 and 5 in the afternoon, a great
heart burst, unable for whatever reason to contain itself and within
itself the sorrow and joy apportioned for this lifetime. No, I cannot
say ‘what a shame!’ He gave enough. And more. His wife and fellow-batchmate
Ayanthis said, softly, how he would force her and the children to stop
everything if he saw a batchmate on television (we have a few who make
the odd appearance as musicians, singers and political commentators).
These things mattered.
Some people are too fast for their fellow creatures. Some of these
people leave a trail for the stragglers and slothful to follow. Then
they are gone. We remain. It feels, however, that he is here still and I
am gone. Forever. [email protected]
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