Appreciations
View(s):S.H.M. JAMEEL
He led a well-accomplished and illustrious life
If life is about making meaning of it, as someone said, you calibrate your life to be of service to others, and history will take care of the rest. I have pondered over it often, but only in the examples of a few have I seen this wisdom manifesting itself fully.
The late Al-Haj S.H.M. Jameel is one.
An educationist, administrator, scholar, orator, writer, archivist, publisher, peace-builder and what not, he breathed his last this week after a well-accomplished, illustrious life. Jameel Sir, as I and many others who had been his students fondly call him, was the Principal – My Principal. It was in that exalted position he had held at Zahira College, Kalmunai that I came to know him first as a young student.
In a school which was then becoming well-known for cultivating a talent pool, Jameel Sir, who had read one of my Tamil poems, encouraged me to write more. My pen name ‘Zahira Azeez’ figured often in the school magazine ‘Zahira’. Years later as I read some of the poems, I used to laugh at myself for the bizarre combination of craze and innocence that had driven me at that age. But Jameel Sir thought that some of them were masterpieces, but the wonder that his very thought did for me much later is beyond words.
It had the immediate ‘side effect’ of my topping the class in the year-end exam in that year. My father was invited by Jameel Sir for the presentation of my Progress Report. There were many other students from other classes whose parents also had come on that day, but for me, it was a feeling of being in the Hall of Fame in his presence and in my father’s.
What started initially as poetry writing branched off to reading poetry and speaking on stage. He would listen to all speeches and poems patiently and comment or commend as the case may be.
His was an era of enlightenment at Kalmunai Zahira. It was a fact that he drew part of the inspiration from a great visionary of that era, the late A.M.A. Azeez, the first Muslim Ceylon Civil Service officer and Senator, who was Principal of Zahira College Colombo, where Jameel studied. It was his blend of wit, intellect, wisdom and vision that the Jameel Sir had inherited in some respects, with his own unique value addition. Jameel Sir used to speak and write in deserved adoration of this once-in-a-generation lodestar.
It is here, I think, that history demonstrates its relevance in its peculiar ways; aspects of the life of Jameel Sir held up a mirror to much of the personae of Azeez, especially to those like me, who had never had the fortune of having a glimpse of that erudite scholar.
One of my next encounters with Jameel Sir was in the early 1980s when as Principal of Addalaichchenai Teachers’ Training College, he invited a group of young ‘poets’ to his office with the idea of publishing a collection of poems by those under 20 years from the Eastern Province.
I attended his meeting out of respect, but did not think I was poet enough to get into that collection. Further, there was the issue of editorial authority over poems. The high esteem I had for him did not give me courage enough to convey to him my reservations. Until then I used to speak to him in Tamil language. Now wanting to convey what I held dear to my heart I put my thoughts down in English and posted the letter.
In a week or so, he replied. First, he appreciated the courage of conviction I had in writing to him on a matter which I considered was dear to me. Second – the one which took me to Cloud 9 — was that he commended a beautiful expression in the English language. It ended with a phrase, then rare, now common: Please keep up your good work!
That meant a great deal for me. I was not among those featured in the collection of poems called “Ezhuvan Kathirgal”, but I had his blessings and encouragement.
The early 1990s was a particularly challenging time for me. Uprooted from my own home, I was virtually a ‘refugee’. I joined the SLAS in the north and east sector in the 1990s. No sooner was the list of new SLFS recruits released in the media than a letter came congratulating me for my selection. It was from my Principal.
He was then the State Secretary at the Ministry of Cultural Affairs. Reading between the lines, and from his brief conversations subsequently, it was apparent he expected everyone of us to live up to the standards – the discipline and decorum — of his own Principal, the former CCS veteran the late A.M.A Azeez. Each time I met him — albeit briefly — I walked away wiser.
Fast forward to 2013. I read that a group of well wishers of Jameel Sir were organising a commemorative event and got in touch. He was elated at my interest. Later, he had ensured that a copy of that commemorative publication, “Oru kiramaththu siruvanin kathai” (The story of a village boy) was sent to me through my sister-in- law Raziya Farook. Reading it brought both tears and joy to me.
He took personal pride in the achievements of his students, and whenever he expressed his appreciation, he always associated his beloved wife and son Naseel with it. A message I received from him in October 2014 read “ We are extremely happy and proud of your performance for various reasons: that you are a Sri Lankan,…… and above all, my student at Kalmunai Zahira College” and “it is a rare marvellous performance.” My thoughts immediately went back to my school days.
It was the repeat of the Progress Report I was getting from him sans the presence of my father, this time!
History will no doubt take care of him. And Mahira and I pray that so will Jennadhul Firdhouz.
-A. L. A. Azeez
Ranil Dias
To happy boyhood and adulthood memories
The strains of Esto Perpetua echoed and re-echoed as another Thomian staunch and true ended his earthly voyage. Ranil Dias’ funeral obsequies were conducted amidst a large and distinguished gathering.
My mind drifted many, many years back to that 16th day in January 1963 when we; some of us bright eyed and bushy-tailed and others bawling their heads off and looking desperately for the warmth of mother’s comforting smile first entered the hallowed portals of St. Thomas’ Preparatory School Kollupitiya. Through our years of thick and thin at Prep., and then at Mount, the Class of ’63 shared many happy occasions and some not so happy ones. To the latter category falls the task I have embarked on.
Ranil’s dedication and commitment as Chairman of the Organising Committee of the STC Class of ’63, 50th Anniversary Celebrations was exceptional. Together with Max Gunasekera, Suresh de Mel and Sathis Abeywickrama, he ensured that all who attended the event at Citrus Leisure, Hikkaduwa had an unforgettable time. We re-connected with boyhood mates, some of whom we had lost touch with for over 35 years.
My association with Ranil goes back a generation further, as his father Maalyn and my father Nanda were classmates at Royal College. As kids, we attended our friends’ birthday parties gleefully and an incident which now appears amusing, but was quite scary then, was the time a friend and I could not find our way back from the garden and had to be “rescued” by a parent at Ranil’s sprawling home in Queen’s Road, Colpetty.
A natural sportsman, he excelled in cricket, rugger, volley ball, hockey and athletics for de Saram House at Prep, and Wood House at S. Thomas College, Mount Lavinia. Ranil took to water sports like a duck takes to water and it was in this field that he left an indelible mark bringing honour not only to College but to the motherland as well. Among his more notable achievements, all of which are too numerous to mention here: he was a College and Public School Coloursman in swimming and diving; represented STC at water polo of which team he was Vice Captain; captained STC at rowing; represented Sri Lanka in sailing at many international events, notably the Asian Games in 1982 in India, the 1984 Olympics at Los Angeles, USA and the 1986 Asian Games in Korea.
In addition to this, he was a school prefect, a member of the Student Christian Movement and a keen scout, being appointed President’s Scout in 1974, which is the highest award one can achieve in senior scouting.
On leaving College, Ranil served in the Navy for two years, joining as a cadet officer and leaving as a midshipman.
He was, by profession an astute rubber trader, cutting his teeth in the famous family-owned rubber brokering firm of H.W.J. Dias & Brothers.
An enthusiastic outdoorsman, Ranil was very keen on visiting many of our national parks. It was less than three weeks before he bade adieu that he and Sonali hosted a dinner in honour of our dear friend Larry de Silva, who was down from Australia for the Royal-Thomian.
I had the privilege of sitting next to Ranil, as many an experience was recounted and many a joke was shared. The evening seemed all too short as we said our goodbyes in high spirits. Ranil’s parting words to me were “I say Viraj, so when are you going to take us to Wilpattu?”
Bon voyage dear Ranil, “till we meet on that beautiful shore”.
-Viraj Senewiratne
Sandhya Weerasinghe
We will never forget the joy you spread
We first met Sandhya as a colleague during the early years of the Central Environmental Authority in the 1990’s. Those were challenging but rewarding days, days fraught with anxiety but yet full of fun. The National Environmental Act was enacted and its provisions being put into practice. As its first Legal Officer, much of the burden fell on Sandhya’s young shoulders. She had the skill and knack of lightening the tension during many an important meeting and made grappling with hard discussions so much easier. Her warmth, humour, compassion and profound joy in living, that so marked her life with her family and friends, was just as clearly on display in her professional life. Without question she was one of the best – passionate, committed to high standards for herself and everyone else, a superb communicator and a compelling office room presence.
We always felt relieved when Sandhya was at a meeting with us because we knew she would be articulate, fair-minded, reasonable and absolutely accountable in all that she said and supported. In return, she was held in high esteem by everyone who worked with her, which often meant that she was elected or appointed to crucial committees and handled important tasks—all of which she carried through with competence and full accountability. How can you not love a colleague like that? Gratitude, humility, courage, fair-mindedness, humour, intelligence and an enduring personal honesty were the hallmarks of Sandhya’s professional life. Always confident about her work, calm under fire with the words “don’t worry – it can be handled”.
Our lives have been hugely enriched by knowing Sandhya, and we know this is true of many of those around her. For us, it is hard to believe she’s no longer here, but it remains impossible to forget her. She was a real inspiration and she leaves behind a model of living life to the full, of rising above the challenge and of committing herself to making a meaningful difference. Her impeccable presence, amazing smile, honesty, directness and passion made the lives of those around her so much better. She helped fellow colleagues to face up to realities that turned out to be mostly far less tough than they had believed them to be. She achieved that rarest of achievements – putting more into others than she took out and in so doing she made a difference.
She was attractive in all ways – as a woman, a wife and mother, as a friend and most of all in her character and values.
Sandhya loved unity, and togetherness. In retrospect, it now seems the hand of fate that led a few of us to meet in an afternoon in early January this year, after a lapse of many years, each of us now scattered in different directions. Time stood still and the years rolled by as we talked, laughed and swapped stories. She seemed her usual radiant self – open, passionate, realistic and ultimately inspiring in all ways, giving us no clue of the pain and illness that lurked within her. We parted happily even talking about another meeting quite soon – but alas it was not to be.
Our thoughts about this terrible loss are captured best by English poet David Harkins:
You can shed tears that she is gone
or you can smile because she has lived.
You can close your eyes and pray that she’ll come back
or you can open your eyes and see all she’s left.
Your heart can be empty because you can’t see her
or you can be full of the love you shared.
You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday
or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday.
You can remember her and only that she’s gone
or you can cherish her memory and let it live on.
You can cry and close your mind,be empty and turn your back
or you can do what she’d want: smile, open your eyes, love and go on.
Sandhya was a rare soul, one who was with us for too short a time. More precious was the light in your eyes than all the roses of the world
Our dearest friend –Rest in Peace
-Shiranee Yasaratne
Ramani Ellepola