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Appreciations

Life was a dance with Aunty Timmy
Timmy Ingleton
When I heard of Timmy Ingleton's death recently, I felt a part of my past slide away. I was but ten years old when I first came in contact with her at Methodist College, and being an avid fan of ballet and tap dancing I immediately enrolled in her dance school.

This was located at Monsoon Lodge in Colpetty and was the Ingleton residence as well. A spacious upstair house with a large garden, it was situated between the British Council (at that time) and the Colombo Swimming Club (still the same location).

Right from day one I felt happy and quite at home in my dance class. Aunty Timmy, as she was fondly known by her pupils, used to welcome us warmly with her bright cheerful smile. She was the epitome of neatness when it came to dress, always in a beautiful skirt and blouse, chain and earrings to match, and hair put up in a tidy bun.

Not only did I learn to dance but also how to mix with children from diverse nationalities and backgrounds, for Aunty Timmy treated all of us alike. I remember well how she always had iced water for us in her 'fridge which we consumed in copious quantities after our classes.

In the class itself she took great care to see that each pupil understood what she demonstrated, and apart from the 'shoulders down, straight back, tummies in' instructions she would give us to start with, she would also walk around bending a hand here and repositioning a leg there. I never really saw her lose her temper - she was always swift to praise and slow to chide.

I well recall how once when one of the senior dancers fell ill and couldn't take part in the concert to be held that very evening, Aunty Timmy asked me whether I could do the part. I was flattered that she thought I was good enough, but also quite nervous at this last minute call. Knowing how worried I was, she took me aside and in her usual persuasive manner told me I would be just fine, and then she patiently showed me the steps, which I practised over and over again with her in a corner of the Wendt.

Another time I fractured my ankle during a dance class and she was absolutely distraught about this. She sent me a letter each week inquiring after my health, until I was well enough to visit her and show her that I was completely fit again. Unfortunately, other pressures compelled me to give up my dancing and I lost touch with her. Not long afterwards, however, she left for Australia and I regret very much that I didn't keep in contact with her.

I have had the pleasure of going through her grandson, Nigel Brohier's very touching eulogy, which I believe he read out at her funeral. From this I have learnt many new interesting facts about Aunty Timmy. She was born Rose Ada Swan on December 14, 1913 to parents Eric and Margaret. Her father called her 'Chums' and everyone else knew her as Timmy.

She was an outstanding student at Bishop's College where she was involved in all aspects of school life and excelled at sports. Being a tomboy she was always up to pranks, aimed mostly at her teachers. Despite her playfulness, she had a great sense of responsibility and was made Head Girl of the school. At 21 years she proceeded to England to learn ballet and although she didn't fulfil her desire to become a professional dancer she returned to Sri Lanka and began to work as a ballet teacher. At first she worked for Marjorie Sample ( also a big name in the field of dance at that time) and ultimately opened her own Timmy Ingleton School of Dance. In 1943 she married Darley Ingleton and had two children Michael and Gillian.

Aunty Timmy was more than just an excellent teacher, for with her kind and caring ways she also became a friend to me - as I am sure to all her pupils. I will always be grateful to her for sharing her wonderful knowledge of dancing with me. Thank you, Aunty Timmy for giving me those joyous years, which I will always treasure. May you be safe in the loving arms of Jesus and His Angels.

Anthea Senaratna

A brave life that ended tragically
Heen Banda Ekanayake
I met H.B. Ekanayake in 1972 at the Police Station, in Maradana. At that time he was a senior Police Constable and I was a recruit. He was attached to the Crime Detective Bureau and he was a good mentor. He had joined the Police Department in 1967 and during this period he supported his younger brothers and sister.

He was a smart officer who was popular in the Police Force until his death due to the explosion at the Kollupitiya Police Station in June, this year. In 1974, when I went for training at the Police College at Kalutara after a new appointment, he was my mentor and I considered him a brother and friend.

I met him again in 1999 at the Cinnamon Gardens Police Station. He was Officer-in-Charge of the Crimes Branch. He was promoted Chief Inspector of Police in July this year, after 37 years of service. My deepest sympathies go to his wife Sriya Ekanayake and daughters Kanchana and Maheshini and son Saminda.

Nimal Ratnayaka

His fragrance will live on
M.M. Farook
The death of M.M. Farook, ex-officer of Cargills (Ceylon) Ltd. after a brief illness has left a void in the hearts of all those who knew him. Farook's gentle, polite voice is stilled, but the fragrance of his life, will live on to comfort his sorrowing wife, daughter, family members and friends.

I first met Farook when we were all congregation members of the Dematagoda Zavia in the good old days of 1950, guided and reformed by Marhoom Moulavi M. I. C. Abdul Hassan (Qari/Hafiz).

His simplicity and modesty was indeed great. I will never forget what he has done for all of us. A clerk by profession, he was an active social worker contributing to the Dematagoda Zavia. He never missed a committee meeting. May Allah give him Jennathul Firdouse, aameen.

A.R.M. Siddiq

Memories light up our lives
Mabel Weerasinghe
Memories .................. coursing through my veins,
Flooding each part of my body,
My mind. Injecting life into
A half forgotten childhood.
Do you remember how
I clung to your arm
As you guided me through
Those busy bustling streets
Of sweat and weariness?

You, gazing into those little Chinese shops
Filled with charming chintzes
Of a myriad hues,
Like the changing face of Maradana.
I could sense your longing
For nice things, pretty things,
Which you found
In the tranquil blossoms of an English park,
In the alluring sweetness of a chilly spring wind.
I'm glad for those moments
Of bliss, of beauty,
Of peace, of calm.

I'm glad for those happy times
We shared together,
You and I.
But when our time's up
We have to go.
What matters is what we leave behind;
A ray of hope
That lights up lives living in the dark,
That epitome of selfless love
That binds us together
Until ---
We meet again someday
In our journey through sansara.

Until then, memories ............ they will last,
They will last.
(Mabel Weerasinghe of Walau-watte, Batagama North, Ja-ela died in Ealing Hospital, London, England on 11th August 2004. The funeral was held in London on August 17)

Geetha Weerasinghe Bibile

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