 
Appreciations
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| End of a long journey of friendship Velauthampillai Mahintha Vikunthanathan To write a few words of my friend is not an easy task, as it is about a long, long journey down memory lane. He was my oldest friend, of nearly 60 years. My association with him goes back to 1947, when I knew him as a 14-year-old student at Jaffna Hindu College, where I did a short stint as a teacher prior to my entering university. He was so full of impertinent yet humorous wisecracks that he held the attention of the class more than I did as a teacher, so much so that I berated him severely and put him on the bench for the remaining duration of the class. This somewhat unpleasant encounter was the beginning of a close and intimate friendship that eventually lasted over half a century. After his school career, he joined the Associated Newspapers of Ceylon Ltd., as a printing assistant at Lake House. His wayward and carefree nature resulted in his severely damaging all his fingers in his right hand and ending up at the General Hospital, Colombo. It was a blessing in disguise for him; for there he was cared for by a young woman, who became his future wife. In Sunanda, as we know her, he found a life’s companion, a good Buddhist, who was the embodiment of all the finest qualities of traditional Hindu womanhood, one who was his friend; philosopher and guide, and, finally, nursed him with the utmost care and dedication during his last years. She was a woman truly beyond compare. They were blessed with three wonderful children, who scaled the heights of their respective professions, and yet carry their laurels with modesty, never flaunting their achievements as many others do. This speaks volumes of a good upbringing, which only good parents could provide. Printing was too dour a vocation for his irrepressible nature. While I entered the sedate ranks of the pen-pushing gentry of the Sri Lankan government, he ventured into the tough and competitive world of business. Starting from scratch, he went from success to success beyond anyone’s wildest expectations. He did not stop at that, because for him, as famously said by Plato of ancient Rome, ‘Man, not money, was the measure of all things’. He launched into the arena of journalism, to write of men and matters. He wrote critiques on Bharata Natyam, including one on my own daughter’s Arangetram. Eventually, he became a connoisseur of Carnatic music to the extent that he was able to befriend and also mix and mingle with a remarkable degree of nonchalance with the most brilliant musical maestros of South India. He had, what a famous musician, the late Professor Narayanaswamy of Chennai, told me is known in Tamil as ‘Sangeetha Gnanam’ viz., a natural flair for music. During his last years he developed a passion for Carnatic music. Once, when I was seething with rage, over a governmental decision in my official career, and was on the point of tendering my resignation, he calmed me down with music and prevented me from making a decision in haste. To recall the famous lines he believed that music, “has charms to soothe a savage beast. To soften rocks or bend a knotted oak”. He thereby gave me the courage to face with fortitude the vicissitudes of life, by instilling in me the tranquillity that was an inborn trait in his character and one that I sadly lacked. In the words of Rudyard Kipling, ‘to move with kings and yet not lose the common touch, to face prosperity and adversity, victory and defeat with equal disdain’. All these were a lot to achieve in a single lifetime. According to the Bible, one has to be truly blessed to live a full life of three score and ten. Vaiki lived his life to the fullest, well beyond the aforementioned biblical span. Moreover, he lived his life to the fullest, with love towards all and malice to none. I wish to repeat 'with love towards all and malice to none’ because, honestly I cannot say this of everybody whom I know! A famous writer once said that the true character of a man is known by the manner in which he leaves this life. When I sat at Vaiki’s house and listened to Sunanda relating to my wife as to how he breathed his last - the peace and tranquillity with which he slipped away from life, I said to myself “Oh, what a fine way to go!” About Vaiki, I can truly say, as Shakespeare wrote, “Age did not wither, nor custom stale, his infinite variety.”
She still mourns the loss of her great son Lakshman Kadirgamar
The sky is heavy with tears
once more The rains may fall, but canst not stop One year gone since you were taken Your lamp burns bright though its oil is gone Noble, upstanding, truthful and just Her corridors are still cast in gloom And run you did towards your goal Within her walls you learned from book Great men are born, and so must die
I think of you day and night Sunil Perera Sunil my dear My very first – all alone! Good & bad – ups & downs Gone are the days I think of you – day & night Every church, temple & kovil No wife, sister or mother - to suffer this way
A grandmother so special Trixie Elizabeth Fernando A tomb is only an empty space. The one I love exists entirely in my memory; in the scent of a handkerchief; and suddenly I remember and listen, for a whole long moment, my head bent… The first time someone close to you dies it becomes a memory that will linger....and what bitterness it is at first. For me, it was the death of my grandmother. She and I were very close and shared a special bond. As the wife of a Methodist Minister, she had travelled widely and always had an interesting story to tell. Like all grandmothers she used to prepare us our favourite dishes and sweetmeats when we came from the hostel, where we were boarded. She showered us with gifts, not only on our birthdays but whenever she could afford it. Being a musician who played the church organ regularly on Sundays, she was happy that my mother and I also used to do the same. Whenever I passed a music exam she was overjoyed. She was loved by everyone at the Salvation Army hostel where she stayed. She used to look forward to our visits and always kept tidbits for us to munch while we were there with her. She outlived all her siblings, her husband and even her in-laws. Even though she was 96 at the time of her death, she definitely did not look her age and was able to manage on her own. In the evenings she would sit in the sitting room and sing hymns and choruses, her favourite being “All to Jesus I surrender” which she sang till her last breath. During her last days which she spent at our home, I was certain her spirit could hear and understand everything , though she remained in a semi-conscious state. In death I remember her being frail and vulnerable. I am at peace as I know that her suffering is over and she is with the Lord. But words could never express the sadness I felt, seeing her lying there - even though she had such calmness and the smile of a victor. I felt we were leaving her there alone. It was one year on August 13 since she passed away. But still her smile and the memory of her are fresh in my mind.
Your life was just a dream Six years ago you left us, a decision you took
unaware, |
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