APPRECIATIONS
View(s):An exemplary human being who will forever be in our hearts
CHITRAN DE ALWIS
I’m still getting used to a world in which I’m unable to call him when I feel like it. Somehow, it doesn’t feel right, and it doesn’t feel fair.
It has been just over a year since my dearest friend Chitran left this world prematurely. I dearly miss talking to him and also meeting him whenever I visit Sri Lanka.
Our friendship dates back to nursery days and our families also knew each other as we had our origins in Mount Lavinia and S. Thomas’ College was a big part of it too.
I was fortunate to have been associated with many important events/milestones in Chitran’s life, be it the much-anticipated annual family dinner on Christmas day at their Mt. Lavinia residence; the celebration in Wilpattu to felicitate Uncle Lyn on being honoured by the WWF, family birthdays or Chitran and Nishi’s wedding and homecoming, I had the privilege of being part of all these memorable events. I am so grateful and truly appreciate the superb hospitality and generosity extended by Chitran and the de Alwis family.
So many of my best memories with Chitran are tied to places that don’t feel the same now. The Zoo, for one – when Uncle Lyn was the director. A few of our mutual Thomian friends and I went there very often and it started to feel like my second home. It wasn’t just wandering around looking at animals, it was where we would meet up, talk, and somehow get serious about our science exhibition projects at school… at least for a while. To be honest, we did the minimum to meet expectations, but the key part to all this was the fun and camaraderie. It was Chitran’s suggestion that we use his residence as the meeting point and he thoroughly enjoyed being the host. This says a lot about his love for company and the generous hospitality of his parents, uncle Lyn and aunty Ellen and sister, Nirmala.
And then there were those simple, perfect evenings—heading out in his Land Rover with the Siripala Road gang to the Galle Face Green to relax, take in the air, slow everything down and listen to music from my portable Toshiba cassette player. After that, we’d end up at a movie or have dinner at some of our favourite restaurants (Parkview Lodge, Malay Restaurant, Majestic Hotel , Mount Grill, Golden Gate Chinese to name a few) and stretch the night out the way only old friends can. No big plans, no pressure – just that calm, easy rhythm loved by Chitran.
And his love for nature… that was something else. When we visited wildlife parks, it was like he switched into his element. Not only did he love animals, he understood them too. The way he would watch their behaviour, notice patterns, and his ability to explain things so simply, like it was the most natural thing in the world. He was well versed in naming all manner of birds and plants and he was very familiar with all the routes in the parks.
So it was not a surprise when he became a top landscapist. He did it with real passion, shaping spaces with the same calm attention he brought to everything else.
Chitran’s kind nature was also extended to people who worked for him. He really cared for them and always enquired after them to make sure that they had had their meals and whether they were tired. At times, Chitran himself used to double down and ask them to take a rest. I recall once when we were in Yala, the tracks were very muddy and tough to navigate. Someone had to constantly get off the vehicle to turn on the “4 wheel drive” before we could proceed further. Chitran realised how tired the driver was and, on a few occasions, undertook to do this task. Visiting the jungles with Chitran had an added element of excitement because Nirmala used to also invite her gang from Ladies’ College.
From a very personal perspective, I am extremely grateful to Chitran for being a source of strength when I faced difficult times with the passing away of my parents. He was one of my greatest sources of strength and comfort.
Chitran was quiet and collected and steady by nature. He never needed to be the loudest person in the room. But he had a great sense of humour – sharp, subtle, and occasionally sarcastic in the best possible way. His humour rendered with a poker face had the rest of us in fits of laughter. Reliable, faithful, solid – when he said he would be there, he was there. No drama. No fuss. That was Chitran.
When I first heard about Chitran’s cancer diagnosis, it was a real shock. It didn’t make sense. And yet he faced it, the way he faced everything: with quiet courage. He wasn’t loud about what he was carrying, but carried it with serenity and dignity.
He also wasn’t alone—not for a moment. Nishi, the love of his life, stood by him with such strength, totally committed to making him feel happy and comfortable. It was clear to anyone who saw them together that he was surrounded by real devotion. He also had the steady support of Nirmala and a close circle of relatives, including his cousins and friends who cared for him deeply.
I feel especially grateful for one last gift: the trip to Tangalle in July ’24 – with him, Nishi (and a few of our childhood friends – Harinlal, Ranil, Chitral, Lalith, Sujieva and families). I was lucky to be there and to have been able to spend some time with him. Chitran knew he didn’t have much time, and still he was the one who was keen that we go – almost like he was quietly making sure we’d have one more memory, one more shared laugh to hold on to later. That was the last time I saw him in person, and I’ll carry these precious memories with me forever.
Cancer took Chitran too soon. But it didn’t get to take what mattered most. It didn’t get his humour, his loyalty, his steady presence, or the way he made people feel welcome and safe. Those things are still held very close and dear in our hearts and minds and in this way he has left an indelible mark on all those near and dear to him.
Chitran is greatly missed by Nishi and Nirmala, his relatives and friends. I miss you, my friend. Thank you for a lifetime of friendship.
I would like to conclude by citing an old Irish proverb:
“Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, love leaves a memory no one can steal”
-Pulinda Samarakkody
To our brave warrior in Year 6D
NAVITHU ABEYKOON
The students of Year 6 at Gateway College Colombo are deeply saddened
by the loss of our dear friend and classmate, Navithu.
Navithu was kind, active and was fully involved in our class. He brought energy into our classroom and always wanted to take part in what was happening. Just a few days ago, Navithu was excited about joining the school’s English Literature Association. He was making plans, looking ahead and eager to be part of everything. That was his willpower. That was his strength.
He was also exceptionally intelligent. As the Under 12 Math Olympiad Champion, he showed us what dedication and hard work truly looked like. We were proud to have had such talent among us.
I sat next to Navithu in class and saw his focus and determination each day. Whether he was solving a challenging Maths problem or joining an activity, he always gave of his best. We later heard from his mother that he had shared many stories about our class at home, which reminds us how much our friendships meant to him. It made us wish we had spent even more time together.
That same determination shows us now how brave Navithu truly was. He came to school with high spirits and strength that many of us are only beginning to appreciate. Even behind the mask he wore to school, his positivity and resilience shone through. Looking back, we realise that a true hero was sitting among us in Year 6D, a superhero with no cape.
Navithu showed us that intelligence, courage and kindness can exist together in one person. Year 6D will never be the same without him, but the inspiration he leaves behind will remain with us.
We extend our heartfelt condolences to his family and loved ones.
Our brave warrior, you will always be remembered.
-Falah Imthinam (Year 6D – Gateway College Colombo)
Legal luminary and patriot above all
GAMINI IRIYAGOLLA
Advocate Gamini Iriyagolla was a great son of Mother Lanka. He played an active part and made a priceless effort to eradicate the ethnic conflict in the country, by providing much knowledge about the ethnic issue to the people. Not only did he have a deep knowledge of the history of Sri Lanka, as a constitutional lawyer he was well versed in the legal side.
He was educated at Royal College, Colombo 7. He had an immeasurable affection and loyalty to the country and as an exemplary patriot, appealed to the authorities to solve the problem, identifying the root cause of it.
We remember him on his 23rd death anniversary. Although he is no more, his mission is evergreen.
I would like to conclude with these lines from Shakespeare:
Life is mostly froth and bubble
Two things stand like stone
Kindness in another’s trouble
Courage in your own.
We salute you, dear Sir.
May you attain Nibbana.
-Malintha Bopearatchy
We will remember her integrity, kindness and quiet strength
DR. VAMA ROBSON
It is with deep sorrow that I write this appreciation in memory of my dear friend and colleague Dr. Vama Robson (nee Ramachandran) who passed away a few days ago in the USA after a brief illness. Her departure has left a void that words can scarcely describe.
Vama was born on January 10, 1943 in Wattegama, Kandy, the youngest of six children. Apparently, both her parents died when she was just a baby and so she was raised in her ancestral home by her grandmother.
After completing her primary and secondary education in Kandy, Vama entered the Faculty of Agriculture, University of Ceylon (presently University of Peradeniya) in 1961 and graduated in 1965 with a B.Sc. (Hons) in Agriculture. Thereafter, she obtained a Master’s degree in 1969 from the University of Los Banos in the Philippines and in 1974 a PhD from Oregon State University, USA, majoring in Biochemistry and Nutrition.
She married William (Bill) Robson in 1978, and moved with Bill to Farmington, New Mexico in 1990. Vama began teaching as an instructor for Chemistry, Genetics, and Nutrition at Dine College, Shiprock campus, on the Navajo Nation and after over 20 years of teaching retired in 2012.
Vama worked as an Assistant Lecturer in the Department of Animal Husbandry, Faculty of Agriculture, University of Peradeniya for a short period (1967/1969), before going overseas for her higher studies and it is during this period that I came to know her. She was a wonderful, kind-hearted and jolly person and was loved by all those who associated with or worked with her because of her rare kindness, quiet strength and unwavering integrity. She was a source of comfort, wisdom, and genuine companion to all her friends.
Her laughter, thoughtful words and gentle nature will remain in the hearts of all who were close to her. No doubt, we (Rex, Anne, Puvendran and I) will miss you but will always remember the wonderful times we had together in Peradeniya during that period.
No wonder her pupils at Dine College would lovingly call her “Momma Vama of the Rez” as she helped launch them on their public health and professional careers.
May she attain eternal peace, and may her loved ones find strength and solace during this time of grief.
With loving remembrance
Dr. Noble Jayasuriya
I lost not just a friend, but a shared path of thought
YUSSRI OMAR
Some people enter our lives quietly and become everything. My friend Yussri Omar was one of those rare souls –the one and only life friend I had, the person who knew me without explanation and stood beside me without conditions. His death was not just painful; it was unacceptable. It felt like something essential was taken from the world far too early.
Yussri was a genuine human being in the purest sense. In a world where people often pretend to care, my friend actually did. Yussri’s kindness was not loud or dramatic; it was steady, thoughtful, and real.
Yussri was a different thinker. He did not follow the crowd or repeat what was easy to say. He questioned things others accepted. Yussri looked beyond systems, rules, and opinions, and always returned to one simple question: What do people really need?
That question guided how he spoke, how he decided, and how he lived.
Yussri believed that people should come first – always. Not profit. Not power. Not pride. Human need. Human dignity. Human pain. He noticed the forgotten, the ignored, and the ones who were struggling silently. And he cared without expecting recognition or reward.
We often spent long stretches of time simply talking and defining humanity, questioning it. Our dialogues carried on for days, sometimes without a clear beginning or end, moving through silence, disagreement and reflection. Our arguments were constructive, driven by a shared desire to reach something meaningful. We challenged each other honestly, without ego. What we were searching for was not agreement, but truth.
Yussri and I wanted something beyond simple realization. We were not satisfied with knowing things—we wanted to attain something deeper, something closer to enlightenment. Not in a religious or idealistic sense, but as a state of awareness: a clearer way of seeing people, suffering, responsibility, and purpose.
Through this shared journey, Yussri and I also came to understand the order between creator and creations, not as a debate, but as clarity. We learned to place each in its rightful space, without confusion or contradiction. That understanding brought humility. It reminded us that humanity sits between the two, accountable to both.
What makes his loss unbearable is knowing that this journey was unfinished. There were still questions to ask, ideas to refine, truths to reach together. Losing Yussri meant losing not just a person, but a shared path of thought – a rare companionship where the mind and soul grew side by side.
Yet he continues within me. In how I think. In how I pause before judging. In how I try to see people not as problems, but as part of a larger human story. This is how my friend remains present, not in memory alone, but in consciousness.
Yussri was a soul that belonged to humanity. He did not know how to live for himself alone. He lived with his whole being turned toward people, truth and meaning. He spoke reality as it was, not as others wanted it to be spoken. This made people uncomfortable. His boldness exposed things they preferred to hide.
I will never meet another of Yussri’s calibre. People like him do not repeat. They appear once, and when they are gone, something irreplaceable disappears with them.
Everloving friend
– A. Hamza Nizar
Adieu to our dearest cousin
Sanjaya Nalaka Madapatha
Born in the salubrious climes of
Bandarawela
On 22nd March 1964,
You had to fight for life as a neonate;
Which you bravely did.
We expected the same from you
When diagnosed with a serious illness;
But things changed forever on 9th
January 2026.
Two days later we bade farewell to you
At Kasagahawatta Cemetery in Gampaha.
Your parents would have been very proud
To have had such a handsome ‘Loku Putha”
Who rose to the occasion without any hesitation,
And your beloved wife Anu, was privileged enough
To have had such an understanding and a kind
Husband like you for thirty odd years.
Whether it was sunshine or rain, your house
Was a sanctuary to homeless animals; Even now they may be visiting to meet that gentle human being.
At family gatherings we all looked forward in meeting
That fun-filled, compassionate, lovable cousin, Sanjaya.
It’s hard to believe that you are no more. In adversity, we need not ask for help;
You were always there and was a tower of strength.
Adieu our dearest cousin, Sanjaya malli / aiya
We hope you knew how deeply you mattered to us.
May this arduous journey in the long ‘Sansara’ be short for you.
- Cousins in Galle
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