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Chilhood's
golden memories last throughout our lives even when families are
far apart In April this
year, my wife Niranjala and I had two of our nieces, Shenuki, 14,
and Natasha, 7, from Colombo come with their mother to spend a 4-week
holiday with us I suppose it
is a sign of being on the wrong side of fifty that my mind tends
to look back in time nowadays more than it did before. When we are
young we little realise that the experiences we are going through,
and the resultant memories generated, may last for a long time -
long enough to play a role in governing our behaviour in later years.
It seems that little and seemingly insignificant happenings find
their way into our minds and psyche, playing a part in forming our
character. Parents, of
course, treasure various memories of their children, especially
of their younger days. The child may not recall many of the memories
that parents cherish, as she or he may have been too young. The
growing child will not consciously commit much to memory as coping
with school work itself seems to strain the capacity of the memory
banks! However, on growing up and going through life's experiences,
certain events suddenly seem to speak from the past and you realize
that these particular memories are reminding you of a particular
lesson that you learnt. My parents
have been married for 56 years now. They have raised seven children
and left their imprint on all our lives. The memories now stamped
in our hearts and minds are their legacy to us. They had no estates
or properties, heirlooms or jewellery to pass down, but what they
have passed down to the younger generations are of infinite more
worth than any earthly treasure. Thatha had an uncanny ability to
fire our imaginations and find time for us amidst a busy working
life. A further illustration of the same would be the fantastic
bedtime stories he would tell us in later years. The best part of
the day would be when we were ready for bed, we four boys in our
bunks in the bedroom we shared, and he would give into our entreaties
for a story. He could weave some magical stories and the hero would
be one of us! "Dilip Inspector" (my younger brother),
has stayed in mind although he created characters for the other
3 boys as well. To enter into the mind of a child is a true gift
and one that my parents have with ample measure. Years later,
the bedroom we four boys shared became thatha's study/library. Even
now, 40 years later, whenever I walk into it, I can feel the 'magic'
in that room. School days
are a hassle at the best of times. When there are assignments and
special projects thrown in they could become a burden for a 12-year-old.
In the 2nd Form, the history project was to make up an album of
the ruined cities of either Polonnaruwa or Anuradhapura. In the
geography class it was a scrap book on China. In the 1960s there
was no Internet and it was a daunting task to try to find material
for such an assignment. My mother would keep an eye on our school
work and on hearing of this cause for worry, she just said a word
in my father's ear.To illustrate Polonnaruwa he produced actual
black and white photographs of the best quality, many of them 6"x
5", taken by him on trips to the ruined cities of our country.
He and my mother had made these trips before we were born, and the
wonderful photographs, together with the descriptions he provided,
made my project outstanding! The help my
father provided with the albums meant so much. Looking back, I realise
that it was the most precious gift - genuine interest in a child's
work, and the valuable gift of a parent's time. A piano is
a common sight in many middle class homes. I didn't realize that
some of the music that my mother played on it would forever be instilled
in memory. Wherever in the world I may be, hearing a tune or a song
will transport me back in an instant to, not only a time and place,
but to a world of warmth and security that cannot be compared to
any other. There was no
television in Sri Lanka during our childhood. Today's kids would
wonder how on earth we survived - imagine such a boring existence!
We did have a radio, though, and an unforgettable item on our weekly
timetable was on Wednesday night at 8.00 p.m. when Radio Ceylon
would broadcast (from the BBC) the serialized Paul Temple mysteries!
'The Van Dyke Affair' and 'The Margot Mystery' are two titles that
still remind me of those exciting nights. We would hurriedly finish
our homework, have dinner and all be crowded around the radio set. Radio also
reminds me of cricket and Test Match commentaries. Our Seeya was
addicted to the Ashes series and we caught the infection from him
quite early. All the boys and Seeya supported Australia, but Akka
insisted that she was an England fan! (She was the odd one, supporting
S. Thomas in the Big Match in spite of her four brothers being Royalists.
Anyway, we had the last laugh when she married a Royalist!) In 1958
we moved from Lauries Road to Wellawatte when my father purchased
a house there, which has become the family home. Wherever I have
lived as an adult, it has been a natural habit to go out on walks.
He would fashion walking sticks for my brothers and me, using his
penknife, and we would proudly set off. Instead of calling it a
'walk', he would say we were 'exploring'! During a lifetime,
many messages are preached to us from different sources. The message
our country needs most now, is "Love your neighbour",
which seems to be one of the hardest teachings to practise, whether
in Yugoslavia or East Timor, Northern Ireland or Sri Lanka. I had
a first-hand experience of this message when I was in University
and came home for a weekend. As I walked in at the gate, I could
see that a funeral was in progress! A neighbour who lived in a small
annexe next door, had passed away, leaving only his wife. They were
from South India and she had no kith and kin to turn to in her hour
of despair. My parents had offered her the use of our home for her
husband's funeral. The skies of
the Southern hemisphere are famed for their clarity for astronomical
observations. Living in a small town like ours, which has no high-rise
buildings, there are no glittering bright lights to mar the view
of a night sky. If I step outside our front doorstep and look up
at night, the constellations are usually arrayed in all their splendour.
The three stars on the belt of Orion stand out and remind me of
my father teaching us the names of the constellations. He would
tell us about them and the mythology associated with them, and so
on. It is wonderful to carry such memories, especially when the
family is now scattered around the globe. Something as simple and
freely accessible as the night sky, can bring you close to those
you love, in a deep and satisfying way. ". ...Those
fields of daisies we landed on, and dusty fields and desert stretches.
Memories of many days, many skies and earths beneath us -many days,
many nights of stars." |
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Copyright © 2001 Wijeya Newspapers
Ltd. All rights reserved. |
in
South Australia. We had some wonderful times going on trips together,
outings to the beach, sea-baths and walks and just enjoying each
other's company. We talked, played games, watched films and videos,
sometimes debated issues. It was time well spent. Close to their
departure to Sri Lanka, Shenuki wrote some lines and pasted them
on the wall near our computer. One of these lines reads: "These
memories will last for eternity..."
