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A
life spent planning the future
Attached to
the Chief Engineer's Drawing Office of the Ceylon Army as a civilian
draughtsman since 1942, Aluthwatte, then known as A.W. Perera, had
served at the South East Asia Command (SEAC) headquarters located
at the Museum building in Colombo. When SEAC headquarters was moved
to Peradeniya, he had moved too. He explained that he changed his
name from Archarige Wilson Perera to Archarige Wimal Aluthwatta,
with a notification in the Ceylon Daily News of September 27, 1946,
because he wanted a more Sinhala sounding name. Aluthwatta
vividly recalls the war time. "I remember on the morning of
April 5, 1942, I had gone with my mother to the Pettah to do some
shopping," he said. "We heard the sound of sirens and
I saw above me, a group of ten Japanese planes. There were concrete
air raid shelters by the roadside and we quickly entered one. In
five minutes the sirens sounded again. Then I heard the sound of
bombing. After the siren sounded the 'all clear' signal, we came
out of the shelter. Pettah was undamaged. I saw people scurrying
to continue their shopping in preparation for the approaching Sinhala
New Year." That night
many people evacuated the city fearing that the Japanese would bomb
Colombo. Aluthwatta and his family took the train to Kandy, where
his grandmother ran a shop for wedding goods. He returned to Colombo
to join the army in August that year. Aluthwatta
recalls that the Museum building was given over to SEAC headquarters
in 1942. "I worked there until they moved to the site at the
Peradeniya botanical gardens at Galaha Road. The Colonel had one
room and the architectural team occupied another. From the war office
in England, they got down the drawings needed for military buildings.
From these drawings we had to prepare the plans for the temporary
buildings. We had to draw the plans with pen and ink." Five or six
inexpensive structures were put up, he said. Some sheds were also
put up at the new Peradeniya station site. Aluthwatta proudly displays
certificates from Col. R. Wilbraham, Chief Engineer, Edward Betteridge,
Chief Draughtsman and the Head of Establishment of Chief Engineer
C.A.C., commending his services for SEAC. Realising that
SEAC would only last for a few years, Aluthwatta applied to join
the Irrigation Department. "I did not want to be stationed
out of Colombo as I was following a technical course. Although the
Director, one Mr. Guthrie, who interviewed me, promised to keep
me in Colombo, I was sent to the Gin Ganga Scheme in Galle in 1946."
It was at this stage that he changed his name. Disillusioned
he resigned and joined the Railway Department. "It was like
jumping from the frying pan into the fire," he remarked. There
he had to draw nuts and bolts and not buildings, as it was a mechanical
post. After a short stint, he finally joined the PWD as an architectural
draughtsman in 1947. "When
I resigned from the Railway Department, an Englishman called Freer
who was the head, admonished me that rolling stones gather no moss.
However, I survived and served 30 years in the PWD with no break
in service." He served in many parts of the country, obtaining
his promotions to Class 1 and the Drawing Office Assistant's grade
in due course. "I did
the drawings for the Engineering Department'" Aluthwatta recalled.
He said he requested a transfer to Kandy, which was his hometown
as he was feeling unwell at the time. There being no vacancies in
Kandy he was given a vacancy in the Peradeniya University scheme. Retired for many years, A.W. Aluthwatta, now 83 years, has been married for about 56. He lives with his married son while his wife, who is also ailing, is looked after by his daughter. Medical bills today are so high, they cannot live together and manage on his pension. Although frail and sick, Aluthwatta has a good memory and finds much pleasure in nostalgic reminiscences of his life and work. Poison
at your doorstep Lead is still
widely used in industry as it is a very useful metal. By banning
the use of lead in paint and gasoline (petrol), and the food industry
not using lead soldered cans, etc. the US Federal Government has
taken many steps in recent times to reduce the amount of lead in
the environment. In Sri Lanka
the decision taken by the government to ban leaded petrol even at
this late stage is most welcome. As it is unlikely
that lead in petrol is the only source of lead exposure, the availability
and use of unleaded petrol alone will not prevent more and more
children falling victim to lead poisoning. This is an opportune
moment to create public awareness on the problem of childhood lead
poisoning. Symptoms
Lead poisoning
may also reduce intelligence and attention span thereby significantly
lowering the performance of the child. It may also cause reading
and learning disabilities, loss of hearing and delay a child's standing,
walking and talking. At very high levels of lead in the blood, the
child may develop convulsions, become unconscious and if untreated
even death could occur. Sources
of lead If lead-based
paint in houses peels off or becomes flaky or chalky, it will form
a fine dust. Touching this dust and then putting their fingers in
their mouths may poison children, or they may even eat paint chips.
Children may also chew on toys, furniture, windowsills, etc. which
have been painted with lead-based paint. Lead can also get into
drinking water from lead pipes in older homes. Some vinyl mini-blinds,
lead-glazed ceramic ware, lead crystal, car batteries, bullets,
fishing weights etc. are other less common sources of lead. Parents
who work in lead related industries or have a lead-based hobby,
might accidentally bring home lead dust on their clothes. This lead
dust may also poison children in such households. How lead
gets into the body An unborn baby
in its mother's womb can get poisoned if the mother has been exposed
to lead, and the level of lead in her blood is high. Lead can pass
from the mother to the unborn baby through the umbilical cord. Lead testing As good nutrition
is also important in preventing many illnesses including childhood
lead poisoning, children should be offered three nutritious meals
and two to three healthy snacks every day. Less lead is
absorbed when a child's stomach is full. Children should be served
with foods with a high content of iron, calcium and vitamin C. Adequate
intake of these nutrients also minimizes lead absorption. As most of
the harmful effects of lead poisoning cause permanent damage and
because treatment options are limited, it is best that lead poisoning
is prevented. Lead poisoning of children is entirely preventable. (The writer is a Health Education Consultant, Childhood Lead Poisoning Prevention Programme, SC Department of Health and Environmental Control, USA) Neville
Jayaweera continues his recollections of his batchmate Mervyn De
Silva During those
chaotic months at Peradeniya we also saw how vulnerable Mervyn was
to the lure of politics, not national politics, but just any politics,
and not just as an interested spectator or commentator, but as an
agitator. Mervyn led
the first students' revolt on the campus. One day the students of
James Pieris Hall decided that their warden was consuming the butter
that should have been given to them and that they were being given
margarine instead. Caught up in a frenzy of revolutionary fervour
the students decided to launch an agitation, to march in procession
with packets of the offending margarine on their heads and hold
a protest meeting on the cricket field by the tennis courts. The
Vice Chancellor declared the demonstration irregular but the students
decided to march notwithstanding. By the time the demonstration
reached the cricket field the margarine had all melted away, but
never mind, some one had hired a mike and loudspeaker and the revolutionaries
went ahead with the meeting. Shanti and
I were watching the whole circus from the embankment separating
the cricket field from the tennis courts and were amazed to see
Mervyn, who was not even a member of James Pieris Hall, climb on
to an old pakis pettiya and harangue the student body. Pointing
to the tennis courts near by he said that they should take a "Tennis
Court Oath" and not relent until butter had been restored to
its pristine place. Referring to the Vice Chancellor's ruling Mervyn
thundered, "We may be irregular but we are not illegal"
and went on to invoke the Magna Carta, the UN Covenant on Human
Rights and a lot else besides, in defence of the students' right
to packs of better butter. At one stage he recalled the "Storming
of the Bastille" and looked as if he might stampede the student
body to storm the Vice Chancellor's Lodge instead, but by that time
the marshals had arrived and amidst ubiquitous hooting from the
students, dispersed the assembly, but not before they had burned
a copy of the Daily News and Mervyn had delivered another barb.
One of the marshals who came to disperse the students was named
Bolton and Mervyn roared, "What bolt from the blue is this
that seeks to crush us?" That evening
Mervyn came to our room with Nimal Karunatilleke, who had marched
with him, shoulder to shoulder, in the students' struggle for butter.
In later years Nimal was to become MP for Matale and the two became
great friends. Mervyn, fresh from his first political triumph was
beaming from ear to ear. He told us how fulfilled he felt addressing
a mass audience and what a sense of power he had with a mike in
his hand. He said that there was no question but that politics was
his calling! One of the
most engaging aspects of Mervyn's personality was his sense of humour
and his sharp wit, often biting and scalding like a whip. He was
not always original but the speed with which he flashed his tongue
gave it the ring of authenticity. Once in a Law College vs University
debate someone on the other side said, "Mervyn de Silva deserves
a half blue for wit" to which Mervyn flashed, "And you
deserve a full blue for half wit". Once, when he and I were
on opposing sides I looked at him across the platform and said with
scorn "Then there is Mervyn de Silva who cannot say boo to
a goose", whereupon Mervyn walked up to me and said "boo"
in my face. Touche! At another debate someone on the opposite side
said scornfully, "Mr Chairman, the gentlemen of the other side
have no brains" to which Mervyn responded pronto, "But
that is because we use ours more often than you use yours".
One of his finest was his re-naming of Hilda Obeysekera Hall. Hilda
Obeysekera was walled in right round by a high rampart so that none
could enter therein except by the grace of its warden, the redoubtable
Miss Mathiaparanam. An exasperated Mervyn promptly re-christened
Hilda Obeysekera "Waldorf Astoria". One of my last
impressions of Mervyn on the Peradeniya Campus was in November 1954,
about a year after we had both graduated. He was already subbing
on the Daily News and was writing a column titled "Daedalus"
and I was on the teaching staff of the Philosophy Department awaiting
entry into the Civil Service. The Indian Philosophical Congress
which meets only once in ten years was meeting that year in Peradeniya
and scores of philosophers from all over the world had arrived there
and were living in Jayatilleke, Arunachalam and James Pieris Halls.
The chairman of the local organising committee was Prof. G. P. Malalasekera
and as one would expect of him, he had arranged to conduct all the
philosophers in a perahera from Jayatilleke and Arunachalam Halls
where they were all asked to congregate, to the Arts Theatre, led
by Kandyan dancers, lee keli and three elephants. As the perahera
led by the ponderous pachyderms wound its way along the Galaha Road
to the Arts Theatre, the elephants plastered the road with liberal
dollops of droppings and the philosophers had a hard time picking
their way through them and upon arrival at the Arts Theatre had
to spend a lot of time scraping things off their shoes. The whole
effect was quite hilarious, which of course was not lost on Mervyn. Thereupon,
immediately after the opening address Mervyn sought an interview
with Malalasekera and opened with a typically Mervyn pun. "Sir,"
he said addressing the professor and referring to the elephants,
" I see that you never fail to make a weighty contribution
to anything intellectual." Flattered, Malalasekera replied,
"Yes! Yes! After all we are the custodians of Theravada doctrine",
completely missing Mervyn's elephantine pun. I believe that
somewhere amidst the fading archives of the Daily News there must
be the hilarious edition of the "Daedalus" column Mervyn
wrote after his visit to the Philosophical Congress. Deconstructing
Mervyn Overall, how
does one assess Mervyn's time as an undergraduate. At one level,
viewed against the stereotype or liberal model of the good university
student, against the Newman (The Idea of a University) model so
to say, they were four wasted years. Talents unfulfilled and an
intelligence of star quality never given an opportunity to shed
its lustre. An inner life,
riven by diffidence which he would not confront, but seemed constantly
to be running away from, and an outer life lived at high intensity
but without cohesion or visible fruitage. However, at another level,
viewed against the model of the writer and the artist, it was perhaps
these very things, the incoherence and the chaos of his soul that
were the foundation upon which he was to build, the mud from which
were to bloom the lotuses of later years. Putting the most constructive
hypothesis upon the anguish and the disquiet that were at the heart
of Mervyn's personality one can say that they are perhaps the sine
qua non, the primal substance of all ceativity. They represent the-price
that all writers and artists have had to pay some time in their
lives before they could create. To judge those who are so burdened
(or so endowed, depending on one's perspective) by the stereotype,
is grossly to misunderstand the nature of the creative mind and
to miss out on the stuff of genius. Mervyn may not have been the
finest mind that the English Department had nurtured up to that
time, but he was certainly its most gifted writer, its sharpest
wit and its most multi-faceted personality. Assuming that Mervyn
had turned out to be a disciplined scholar, winding up with the
much vaunted First Class, he would probably have ended his days
as a Professor of English or as a Permanent Secretary and nothing
would have been more grotesque or a greater caricature of the person
who Mervyn ultimately could become and finally came to be, than
that. Mervyn's life
and career after he left university, stands in sharp contrast to
his life as an undergraduate. It was as if embers that had been
smouldering and spluttering for four years at university, finally
ignited and burst into flames. His career as a journalist, literary
critic, satirist, political commentator, broadcaster, both within
the country and abroad, is without peer, either before or since
and is not likely to be equalled for a long time to come, if at
all. What or who
catalysed the chaotic undergraduate Mervyn into the top class journalist
and internationally recognised commentator? Who or what caused those
spluttering embers to come alive? First, I think it was his wife,
Lakshmi who throughout his career, more than anyone or any circumstance,
provided Mervyn with an anchor and a point of reference, who supplied
the cohesion and the focus that he lacked throughout his time at
university. She was always there for him and he hardly travelled
abroad without her. Quite literally he was lost without her. Lakshmi
must have been a woman of extraordinary patience and a fathomless
capacity for understanding and love! Second, it was his work itself
that re-integrated Mervyn. Aspiring to be the Editor of the Daily
News and Chief Editor at Lake House, on the strength of his obvious
merits and excellence rather than on the basis of preferment, provided
the focus for his energies and a reference point for his life. Once I passed
into the Civil Service and Mervyn into journalism, it was right
and proper that we should keep within our respective boundaries
and so it was that we kept a safe distance from each other. I recognised
his right to criticise and lampoon me which he did quite regularly
with all the zest born of interactions from the past. However, after
my wife and I relocated to the UK, Mervyn and Lakshmi would often
contact us when they came to London and come round for a meal. It
also gave me great pleasure to help raise funds for running the
Guardian. I would like
to end this piece on a personal note. I have written this evaluation
of Mervyn de Silva's university years on the invitation of his son
Dayan Jayatilleke who was keen to have on record an account of his
father's time at the university written by someone who had been
with him throughout the four years. Apparently I am the last of
those who were close to Mervyn throughout his time at Thurstan Rd
as well as at Peradeniya. As can be expected, like all such evaluations
and reminiscences, mine has been a subjective one, my view of Mervyn
being framed within my own values and standards. It should therefore
be self-evident that such personal and anecdotal accounts cannot
lay claim to objectivity. Besides, I have had to trawl my memory
for 50 years to resurrect events and incidents which had begun to
fade at the edges. It is entirely conceivable that someone else
who shared those four years with Mervyn might have seen him completely
differently. In a sense
we are all trapped within our respective perceptions which in turn
are shaped by our own value systems. Therefore, I would ask that
this be borne in mind when making judgements about Mervyn on the
basis of what I have written. Making judgements about anyone tells
us as much about the judge as about the one in the dock. |
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Copyright © 2001 Wijeya Newspapers
Ltd. All rights reserved. |
