B P S (Patrick) Perera :

Stuck to your beliefs but stood up for others’ rights

As I switch on the radio this cloudy morning, the strains of Island in the Sun soothes my ears at first, but as Harry Belafonte waxes eloquent on the forests, waters and the shining sands, my mood lapses into gloom as I can never, ever listen to this song without a picture of you singing it with gusto flitting my mind, Thaththa.

When we were growing up listening to this and other favourites of yours, as well as your renditions of Sinhala Nadagam songs of bygone years was a part of our lives, but the feeling with which you sang these as well as how you lived your life altogether, came from your very being, and one incident stands out in my mind as evidence of how intensely you felt about the things you believed in or loved.

Years later, when you returned after spending some time with nangi after amma's death and the plane was circling for landing in Colombo, you had seen Sri Lanka spread out and later told me that you wanted to break out into singing Island in the Sun loud as ever, as you felt really happy to be back, which I know was not easy as you were returning to an empty house, which you shared with amma even after all of us moved out.

It's hard to believe that it's nearly two years since you passed away thatha although “passing away” would hardly suit the way you lived your life.

Maybe because I did not have the privilege of seeing you as much as I would have liked to, I still have the feeling that you are alive, walking amongst the trees, feeding the squirrels and of course showing the old catapult to scare the odd crow who dares to disturb the squirrels - or that you may be lying on your father's armchair dozing off in the verandah of your ancestral home and raise up your head at the sound of the gate opening.

But hard reality nudges me, there's no thatha waiting for me, nor can I go back to those surroundings of my young life, except in memory - too much of water has flown under the bridges, especially after your death.

I myself am an old woman now, and marvel still how strange the mind can be, as I put off penning this appreciation daily as my emotions get the better of me and words in prose or poetry which have been my best companion especially in times of grief, seem to elude me, simply leaving a wet eye.

But I know you would understand thatha and forgive me for delaying this and other lapses on my part, as when you were lying in hospital the last time, you recalled a time nearly years ago when I was in tears and told me that you understood much later only why I cried.

You, who were a stickler for discipline be it about how everything should be left in its correct place, or being punctual etc and rarely got emotional, remembered my tears and worried about it and recalling it so many years later, still surprise me.

Though to the casual onlooker you may have seemed tough as you stood by your standards, especially about caring for trees and the natural environment, your caring nature needs no accolade other than the way you took care of amma for nearly a decade, when she was suffering from a debilitating illness.

I think we do not need any other legacy to pass on to our children than this and the way you took care of your own “mummy”, our achchi personally taking care of her needs before leaving for work as amma too was feeble at that time, it is indeed a rare quality thatha, especially in a man who was brought up in an era where the common household chores, especially taking care of an elder was classified as the “women's job”.

I can go on and on about all what you did not only for us, but so many “lesser-able” people who came your way. Though most people who knew you would classify you as a bit of a “rebel” when it came to tackling everyday problems, like the Ven Head Thero of our village temple stated at your seven day Bana, you stuck to your beliefs but stood up for the rights of the other man too, often the downtrodden.

Even as the Ven Thero refreshed our minds that day, daring to come to his temple and arguing with him about some noise-making Koththu restaurant which had opened recently and going on till the wee hours of the morning disturbing the peace of the quiet surroundings, Thatha especially had been worried that it was disturbing the studies of some students studying for the ‘OL’ Exams and although you yourself were living alone that time, you had tried to organise a demonstration with the priest's backing for this.

I still vividly recall how the Ven Thero's words brought a quick laugh to many listening to the bana that day and all of us I am sure like me had a fleeting picture of you amidst our tears, which in itself would have amused you.

AKKAÓ

Cynthy Nirmali de Silva :

Epitome of kindness

Piyeyi Vippayogo Dhukko. The above line from the Dhammapada comes to our mind when we ponder on the life of Cynthy, our dear friend and relation who crossed over to the land that is fairer than day.

During her last illness, her loved ones looked after her until she received the final summons to wind up her pilgrimage on this planet for 67 years.

On hearing about her demise, some from her wide circle of friends from school days at Visaka Vidyalaya, Colombo came in numbers to pay their last respects to her, although no obituary notice was inserted in the media.

That was ample testimony to the unique qualities of love, kindness and compassion she had towards anyone irrespective of caste race or creed.

The Buddha's teachings and way of life was engrained in her and she traversed the length and breadth of this island on pilgrimages accompanied by friends and relations.

She devoted much of her time on days of religious significance attending to connected observances and was a loving wife to Ansingh, a caring mother to her only daughter Thiranga and son-in- law Mallik, and was an affectionate grandmother, teacher and playmate to her two granddaughters Malinthi and Sehanthi.

She will also be missed by her elder brother Lakshman and his family. To her cousins, she was yet another sister. By becoming a part of her family circle through the marriage of our son to her daughter, we were often recipients of her warm hospitality and many were the enjoyable family outings that we had together.

Loyalty to her Alma Mater was well demonstrated by her active participation in the activities of its OGA, prior to her failing health . Will any one known to her disagree with us when we say that Cynthy was an “epitome of kindness” ? Dear Cynthy, may your days in Samsara be short until you attain the supreme bliss of Nirvana.

Merril and Srikanthi