The Stethoscope and those memories of a lifetime By Dr Nihal D Amerasekera

The Stethoscope and those memories of a lifetime

By Dr Nihal D Amerasekera

“If you cry because the sun has gone out of your life, your tears will prevent you from seeing the stars.”― Rabindranath Tagore

My early childhood was spent in Nugegoda. I stayed with my grandparents smothered with love and affection. My father was helping to grease the wheels of the government far away from the Metropolis. My grandpa was an apothecary caring for the sick and the suffering. He was often seen leaving the house with his stethoscope. Whenever I fell ill he used this instrument to listen to my chest. I was simply fascinated and intrigued by this device with its brown tubes and black bell. These are my earliest recollections of an awesome instrument that changed the way doctors diagnosed heart and lung disease.

Laennec painted by ND

The stethoscope has become a talisman and so much of a part of every doctor. The word stethoscope comes from the Greek words stethos, meaning chest, and skopein, meaning to explore. The amazing story of the invention of this astounding instrument is steeped in history. 

In the autumn of 1816, Dr. Rene Theophile Hyacinthe Laënnec, a French Physician was walking in the courtyard of the Le Louvre Palace in Paris. He observed two children playing. Each one had a piece of wood placed on the ear. The pieces of wood were connected by a taut string. The taps from one piece of wood reached the other piece. In those early days the heart sounds and beathing was heard by the doctor placing the ear on the patient’s chest. Once when a young lady came to Dr Laënnec for treatment, he was bashful and felt uneasy to place his ear on her chest. He made a tube with a sheet of paper and placed one end on the chest to listen. This wasn’t perfect but caused less embarrassment to the patient and the doctor. He remembered the acoustic phenomenon used by the 2 boys. 

Laënnec spent several years trying to perfect an instrument and decided on a hollow wooden tube that amplified the sounds. This became the forerunner to the modern stethoscope. Doctors used wooden tubes as stethoscopes until the latter half of the 19^th century. It took many more years to develop the modern bell and diaphragm type of stethoscope. In 1861 an Irish physician named Arthur Leared created a binaural model with two earpieces on the ends of stiff metal tubes. In 1862, George P. Camman of New York perfected the design using flexible tubes with smaller ear connections. 

This binaural stethoscope was commercially produced. In appearance, his instrument is similar to the ones used today.

After I entered the faculty of Medicine in Colombo, I learnt the inherent magic of this device and how to use it as a diagnostic tool. No other symbol so strongly identifies a doctor than a stethoscope. In Sri Lanka the device became an icon of intellect and skill. Hence, doctors enjoyed great esteem from the public. Some of this adulation filtered down to medical students. Even as a student I took great pride in displaying my stethoscope prominently. I had it round my neck on my long walks in the hospital wards and corridors. This self-assured hubris among medics have now waned. The stethoscope is ubiquitously used in hospitals and surgeries by many different healthcare workers.

After I ended my professional life, there is always an irresistible desire to return to my roots. As a Diagnostic Radiologist, I never used a stethoscope. Now, when I see a stethoscope, it takes me back many decades to the time I spent with my grandparents. It is now a symbol of my childhood more than my profession. This transports me back to Nugegoda and those happy years.  

My grandparents

Nugegoda then was a sleepy little town that prided itself on its peaceful ambience. People were charming, friendly and helpful. They were religious and converged on the temple and the church for refuge and direction. The landscape was green and its beauty touched us with grace. The mornings were magical as the dew on the grass shone brightly. The shady streets were lined with tall flamboyant trees. The town was a paradise for birds. There were vast stretches of uncultivated green land through which ran a few narrow dusty gravel roads. There were hardly any cars. Heavy commerce and trade hadn’t arrived here yet. There was no large industry in and around Nugegoda and jobs were scarce.

As darkness descended hundreds of bats took over the skies. I still recall how quiet and dark the nights were. We heard the eerie croaking of frogs and the din of crickets. The fireflies always remind me of Nugegoda of the 1950’s. It was only the rumblings of the Kelani Valley trains that punctuated the silence. There was no respite from the mosquitoes that tormented us every night.

My grandpa was a softly spoken, quiet, noble man from Kandy. From the time I can remember he had grey hair. He took life easy but worked diligently. The locals knew he was a medical man and came to him at all hours for help. He was much more, a philosopher, an expert in country lore, an amateur astrologer and an old character of a type that was endangered and nearly extinct. He was not interested in money except the bare minimum to sustain his family. The people respected him enormously and he relished the adulation.

My grandma was a qualified nurse in the Mold of Florence Nightingale. She was kind and caring and grew up in Ibbagamuwa near Kurunegala. Grandma was a sprightly, intelligent woman with lots of courage and foresight. She helped to drive the family forward through uncertain times.

Time passed swiftly and relentlessly. The ravages of time affected my grandparents. In the autumn of their lives, they had the respect and love of the extended family. As their eyesight and hearing gradually failed, they were mostly confined to home. Whenever I visited them, I saw their decline. They had a huge repertoire of old family stories and amusing anecdotes which they shared on our visits. Grandma kept touching mementoes of our family, like photographs and paper cuttings, which she cherished immensely. To her every photo spoke volumes.

Their end came peacefully. Grandpa passed away aged 89. I was then in London and felt the loss deeply. After his death, for grandma life became an ordeal. She led a quiet life and remained fit but frail. I have often seen her sitting alone wrapped in her own thoughts. Memories of the past stared at her from every room, as did photographs and family occasions. The great void in her life could never be filled. Grandma passed away at the age of 86 years. They both served their communities with pride and worked for the Health Service with dedication and devotion. I will always remember grandma’s diligence, energy and enthusiasm and grandpa’s calm, reflective kindness. To me it was an end of an era.

More than seven decades have passed since I first set foot on Nugegoda. During the past 50 years I have lived in the UK and visited Sri Lanka occasionally. On a visit to Nugegoda in 2012, the changes that greeted me were astonishing. Our former house didn’t survive the wrath of the bulldozers. It was demolished and became a car park. The town is now bustling and busy. Prosperity has come to the town with better shops, fine supermarkets, wider roads, modern communications and good transport. Bristling billboards and signposts line the roads. Many of the old houses have been pulled down. The few that remained look like relics from a lost civilisation. The nouveau riche preferred to live in large, detached houses, behind high walls and security gates.

Urbanisation of a town is inevitable but seemingly it has taken place randomly. Nugegoda has experienced a devastatingly rapid, unsympathetic expansion. The industrial and residential areas are mixed with office space. There is no designated green belt to preserve as an area for peace and relaxation. The result is a cauldron of light, noise and environmental pollution, a serious health hazard. This is what remains of the once austere, puritanical Nugegoda of the fifties. Its past elegance lay buried under layers of asphalt and concrete.

I have rambled on and revived ancient and half-forgotten memories of a town with its own personality, heart and soul. Although the magic of the old Nugegoda still haunts me, the loveliness and enchantment of that peaceful town I knew is now a distant memory. Within the time frame of a single generation, it has changed beyond recognition. It hurts when I think about its former glory and the people who made it so special.

I have painted a portrait to honour and respect Dr. Rene Theophile Hyacinthe Laënnec for his brilliant and important invention. The Stethoscope transformed healthcare. But I dedicate this narrative to the memory of my grandparents. They both gave me life and hope. It is only now I realise the depth of their influence on my life. Their love, warmth and encouragement will never be forgotten.

FUNNIEST QUOTES ABOUT AGEING. Sent by Suriyakanthie Amarasekera

 FUNNIEST QUOTES ABOUT AGEING

Sent by Suriyakanthie Amarasekera

 

"Old age is like a plane flying through a storm. Once you are aboard, there is nothing you can do about it." - Golda Meir 

"The older I get, the more clearly I remember things that never happened. Mark Twain 

"As you get older, three things happen. The first is your memory goes, and I can't remember the other two." - Sir Norman Wisdom 

"When your friends begin to flatter you on how young you look, it’s a sure sign you’re getting old." - Mark Twain 

"Life would be infinitely happier if we could only be born at the age of eighty and gradually approach eighteen." - Mark Twain 

"A stockbroker urged me to buy a stock that would triple its value every year. I told him, ‘At my age, I don’t even buy green bananas.’" - Claude Pepper 

"If you want to know how old a woman is, then ask her sister-in-law." - Edgar Howe 

"Looking fifty is great—if you’re sixty." - Joan Rivers 

"At age 20, we worry about what others think of us… at age 40, we don’t care what they think of us… at age 60, we discover they haven’t been thinking of us at all." - Ann Landers 

"I don't do alcohol anymore—I get the same effect just standing up fast." -  Unknown

"I was thinking about how people seem to read the Bible a lot more as they get older, and then it dawned on me—they’re cramming for their final exam."- George Carlin 

"I don’t feel old. I don’t feel anything until noon. Then it’s time for my nap." - Bob Hope 

"I’m 59, and people call me middle-aged. How many 118-year-old men do you know?"- Barry Cryer 

“By the time you’re 80 years old you’ve learned everything. You only have to remember it.” - George Burns 

"Regrets are the natural property of grey hairs."  Charles Dickens

The Carnival of Venice. Nihal D Amerasekera

The Carnival of Venice

By Dr Nihal D Amerasekera

I was just a child in 1952 when my father was transferred to Gampaha. Formerly called Henarathgoda, it is a town made up by the merging of five villages. When Sir Edward Barnes, a British Governor, paid a visit to the area in 1825, it was a dense forest.  He decided to construct a railway through the area and to have a station at Henarathgoda. This effectively ignited great interest in the area.

In the 1950’s Gampaha was still a small town and amazingly peaceful. It could not boast of lush green mountains or a deep blue sea, but the air was clean and the people were friendly. It was a place of beauty, loveliness and enchantment. Its claim to fame was the Botanical Gardens where Ceylon’s first rubber tree was planted.

As the British left us in 1948, we were free to rule ourselves. I was then far too young to appreciate the vast political and social changes taking place around me. I was happily oblivious to these enormous changes but as I grew up, learnt to accept them like the rest of my countrymen. The crucial goal of uniting Sri Lanka's people was overshadowed by the melee of parliamentary politics. It is easier to be scornful of the past than of the present. With the introduction of free education and healthcare, lives changed for the better for the many.

We then lived in a splendid old house on Colombo Road, Gampaha opposite the Government Hospital. It was the ancestral home of Cyril Goonetilleke, a property tycoon, entrepreneur and socialite who had inherited tremendous wealth. The house had water on tap and flushing toilets, then a luxury anywhere outside the metropolis. Cyril was away in London studying for his law degree. He left the front room of the house for himself loaded with his paraphernalia. Being a teenager, I was curious. I surreptitiously crept into his room to explore its treasures. There was a bed, a desk and several old cupboards full of clothes and books. They were covered in layers of dust. On the floor was a His Masters Voice (HMV) winding-up gramophone. Next to it was a dust-ridden stack of 78 RPM vinyl records. Most of it didn’t appeal to me. I loved the “Carnival of Venice” and played it repeatedly. The hiss and crackle of worn-out needles was never a deterrent. This was a superb rendition beautifully played on the trumpet by Harry James who was a famous trumpeter of the 1940s. He was so well known for his virtuosity and lovely melodic style. This melody simply stuck to my memory.  I was delighted to hear it when played on the airwaves of Radio Ceylon.

The song "Carnival of Venice" is based on a Neapolitan folk song called "O Mamma, Mamma Cara". This was composed by Niccolò Paganini an Italian composer and violinist (1782 – 1840).  The music with a fast tempo was written for the solo coronet. He composed the Carnival of Venice circa 1829. As his fame grew, he indulged in excessive gambling and numerous romantic affairs. This took its toll and he had to pawn his violin to pay his debts. Despite his troubles Paganini’s music thrived and he became a director of music. His compositions and playing technique experienced great success in his appearances in Vienna, Paris and London. Sadly, Paganini’s life was blighted by the social consequences of his gambling habit which returned to trouble him until the end of his life.

During my teenage years, music had a very special appeal. 1955 saw the emergence of Rock 'N Roll music. Bill Haley succeeded in creating a music that appealed to youth because of its exciting backbeat, its urgent call to dance, and the action of its lyrics. The booming base and the twang of electric guitars produced a foot-tapping sound. Then the music of Elvis Presley and Cliff Richard and the Shadows was all-consuming to us teenagers. The music fashions changed constantly. In the 1960’s the music of the Beatles, Rolling Stones and others became popular. Although I enjoyed the new music my love for the “Carnival of Venice” never waned.

Indeed, time does fly. The years passed swiftly and relentlessly. The ebb and flow of my fortunes brought happiness and despair in equal measure. I had stepped on the treadmill to carve myself a career and raise a family. I finally settled in a leafy suburb in Hertfordshire 50 miles north of London. When our sons started to play musical instruments, I rekindled my love for the “Carnival of Venice”. They too loved the piece and played it often. I now could listen to the various versions of it played by different orchestras. The Mills brothers sang it in 1951 and I remember this being popular in Ceylon. The song, "How Much Is that Doggie in the Window?" is based on this tune and was a hit in 1952. Many artistes used the tune and made hits including Hank Snow and Danny Kaye. Most notable of those variations have been by the composer Joseph Jean-Baptiste Arban (1825–1889) who arranged the music for the cornet or trumpet. The one I listened most often is played on the clarinet by Duncan Prescott. This was simply the best for his sheer artistry and the control of his clarinet. The Harry James version still brings back nostalgic memories of Gampaha. Wynton Marsalis is an American classical trumpeter who plays it brilliantly with a modern style.

Meanwhile, the river of life has run on and youth passed into middle age. When I ended my professional career, it gave me the time to delve into the history of this magical piece of music. Venice is situated in the Veneto Region of Northeast Italy and spread over 118 small islands. It is considered as an architectural masterpiece. This city on water connects the many islands with over 400 bridges. Venice has had a tremendous influence on world architecture and monumental arts. Visitors arriving here is transported to a world of marbled palaces, bell towers, domes and gondolas. St. Mark's Basilica and its square has stood proudly at the heart of Venetian life for centuries.

The Venice Carnival is one of the oldest annual festivals in the world and dates back to 1162 AD. Legend has it, this was to celebrate a military victory over its enemy. But subsequently, the carnival became directly related to the Christian period of Lent. The word “carnival “is derived from the Latin word “Carne Vale” meaning “farewell to meat” to celebrate the Christian period of Lent when abstinence from meat is practiced for 40 days. The Venice Carnival takes place each year in February in St Mark’s Square in Venice. During the Carnival people paraded on the streets of Venice wearing colourful masks. This allowed them to protect their identity and remove any social differences. Unfortunately, when Venice came under the rule of Francis II in 1798 the Carnival was outlawed and almost completely disappeared for nearly two centuries. The carnival was revived in 1979 with its distinctive traditions and celebrations making Venice as one the best Carnival destinations for tourists from all over the world. This indeed rejuvenated Venice’s culture, heritage and economy. Every Spring people from across the world visit this floating city and take part in this unique celebration. The carnival is such a joyful event. It displays a riot of colour, magical music and an unforgettable spectacle. Colourful costumes, elaborate masks and fascinating historical re-enactments make this 2-week party an impressive experience.

The human memory is a miracle of nature. Like a time traveller, I have turned back the clock 7 decades.  I never returned to Gampaha town or the house ever again. The house was later bought by a doctor who razed it to the ground and built a 2-storey Surgery for his practice.

The “Carnival of Venice” still brings back many memories of my parents and friends who shared my life in Gampaha. It was a time of peace and contentment in my life. These nostalgic memories distil the spirit of an era now long gone. I dedicate these notes to my parents for their infinite love which sadly I could never fully reciprocate.

More paintings by Nihal D Amerasekera

More paintings by Nihal D Amerasekera

Another selection of Nihal's paintings. This is the first instalment of his latest paintings.

They are very usefully accompanied by a short description.

Taj Mahal

Taj mahal is a marble mausoleum on the banks of the yamuna river. It was built by the Mughal Emperor Shah Jehan in memory of his beloved wife Mumtaz Mahal completed around 1654. Shah Jehan was deposed by his son Aurangzeb and was kept under house arrest at the Agra Fort from where he could see the Taj Mahal. Shah Jehan died in 1666, and he was buried next to his wife in the Taj Mahal.

Taj Mahal has become a prominent image that is associated with India, and in this way has become a symbol of India itself.

St Andrew’s Church in Haputale

Built in 1869, St Andrew’s Church is the oldest building in Haputale. This is an iconic structure consecrated by the Anglican Church. The altar is surrounded by stained glass windows imported from Scotland that depict the significant events in the life of Jesus. It has a marble baptismal font, imported from England, located at the entrance of the church. Rev W.S Senior’s ashes are buried in this church. He was a classical scholar from Cambridge who was once the Principal of Trinity College Kandy. He wrote the Hymn for Ceylon for which he will be forever remembered.

Stilt fishermen

Stilt fishermen are still a common site in Unawatuna and Weligama area. Although the history of fishing goes back 40,000 years stilt fishing is more recent and goes back to the 2^nd World War period. As there were food shortages people at first started fishing from shipwrecks and plane-wrecks in the sea. As they were able to catch many fish that way they went on to wooden stilts. They catch herring and mackerel. Now as the catch is dwindling this method of fishing may gradually stop with the passage of time. It remains a tourist attraction now. Personally, stilt fishing brings back many memories as my father worked in Weligama in the early 1960s.

Dambulla Cave temple 

 Dambulla Cave temple is a world heritage site. Statues and paintings within the caves remain the main attraction. The caves contain human remains 2700 years old and were inhabited by prehistoric humans before the arrival of Buddhism to the country. The Buddhist statues and paintings date back to the 1^st century BC and traditionally have been assigned as the work of Valagamba. Nissanka Mall of Polonnaruwa added 90 paintings in the year 1190.  Much of the later restoration work was done by the Kandyan Kings. The caves still remain a functioning monastery.

Buduruvagala temple

Buduruvagala is a temple from the 10^th century which is located about 4 miles (6.4 km) southeast of Wellawaya in the Monaragala district. The temple belongs to the Mahayana school. Buduruvagala means "the rock of Buddhist Sculptures". There are 7 statues in all. The central statue is of Lord Buddha and this shows traces of orange colour remnants of the ancient paint. To the right of the Buddha are mythological figures and to the left is a consort. There is a flame shape carved into the rock. Within the shape there is a certain wetness with a mustard smell. How this liquid gets there still remains a mystery. This temple has remained a popular place of pilgrimage since ancient times.

Lynton and Lynmouth

Lynton and Lynmouth are quaint villages by the sea in North Devon. They are famous for the Cliff Railway, a water powered funicular railway. The towns are in the Exmoor National Park. The scenic beauty of the area is said to resemble the landscape of Switzerland. I would urge you to visit the area if ever you are in Devon. The painting shows the pleasantly old-fashioned houses of Lynton and Lynmouth facing the sea.  

THE BITTER PILL OF EXERCISE. Srianee Dias

THE BITTER PILL OF EXERCISE NEED NOT BE BITTER

Srianee Dias

Most of us have reached that age when one has to work hard at keeping our muscles and joints well-lubricated and in working order. I have better luck at keeping my car in working order than my own body because I pay someone else to work on my car. 

Keeping my muscles strong, however, is my responsibility and no one else can do it for me.  The problem is that I hate exercise routines because they are so boring! It is so much more fun to put my feet up and read a book while listening to my favourite music.

I keep reminding myself that it’s important to do them, just as important as taking one’s medication prescribed by a doctor.  I have come to terms with the fact that if I am destined to live long (my mother lived to be 93), I have to remain independent.  There is no point in living long if one is limited by a lack of mobility and dependent on others. I have decided now to give the boring exercise routines the same level of priority as swallowing the daily pill to control mild hypertension.

Some of us are natural athletes and like to play golf, badminton, tennis and other sports, which is wonderful because it also involves engaging with other people, another important bonus.  There are others who attend gyms regularly and work with personal trainers.  However, those activities require investing a fair amount of time and making plans with others.  I suggest that we ( the less motivated types) find some activities that we can do every day for 15 to 20 minutes.  These routines should help us improve our balance and our muscle strength.  We don’t need fancy equipment.  One can walk outside for a few minutes when the weather is cooperative.  There are many, many YouTube videos with exercises designed especially for seniors.  I think it helps to vary the routine, to prevent boredom. It is also important to choose routines that will not cause injury.  It is important, however, to give it priority and not just be something that we do when we have a little time left in the day.  I think if we give it the same level of importance as brushing our teeth or the prescribed medication we stick to swallowing without a second thought, it may help us stay on track.

I would love to hear what my friends are doing to keep themselves limber and mobile.

The Sad Tale of UkiRani and Ruso (contd)...Act II

The Sad Tale of UkiRani and Ruso (contd)... Mahendra Gonsalkorale

Act II

Setting: Ruso and Youeseh sat in Ruso’s lavish apartment enjoying a Vodka.

Ruso: It is good of you to come and meet me Youeseh or shall I use your pet name Chump?

Youeseh: Good to see you too Ruso, nice, really nice and you can call me Chump if it is easier. You are a good man Ruso, a really nice man and I like you.

Ruso: You know of course that UkiRani did not listen to me and refused not to invite Nato. I warned her of the consequences and sadly, my intervention in her country led to a lot of unnecessary grief and destruction. But you know me, what had to be done had to be done and those who died… well sometimes we have to look at the greater good and what greater good can there be than provide staunch support for a fearless brave man like me, easily the greatest Russian in history. I would have said that earlier but modesty stopped me. I don’t mind saying this to the greatest American President!

Ruso stands up to make this modest statement and sits down, looking quite pleased.

Chump: You are kind, very kind. I know I know. It shouldn’t have happened. It would not have happened if I was in charge but sadly, that chump Byedan was there and he was useless, pretty useless. It shouldn’t have happened and I am sorry you had to call their bluff. You are a great man, just like me, destined to make the World a better place, for you and me.

Ruso: I had no option Chump. UkiRani and her team are far too close to my border and I had to show her who is boss.

Chump: I know, I know. It should never have happened. It should never have happened. All those millions who died. Real shame, real shame, it should not have happened.

Ruso: What is your advice to me now my valued and strong friend Chump? How can I get out of this mess?

Chump leans forward in his chair, with his long blue tie falling between his parted legs. He points and wags a finger while twisting his neck and face, his lips pouting.

Chump: Listen to me Ruso. If this goes on there will be no winners, only losers and I am not going to waste my dollars helping this to go on. UkiRani knows this and is worried about it. You might say, what about Urope and his friends? Let me tell you, Urope and friends are disorganised and in deep shit (pardon the expression) with their finances. Some may shout about continued support for UkiRani, like that useless weakling Stammer from the UK who should really keep out of this; he has enough problems in his own country. But they know you are strong and cannot be defeated. You have always been strong, so strong Ruso, a man after my own heart, a man who believes that law and order must be observed,  so long as it helps you, and who does what he wants and states boldly, very boldly, to these bureaucrats who interfere with progress, your progress, they will be fired and make no mistake!

Ruso glows with pride and tries to comb his hair forgetting for a moment, he has no hair.

Ruso: Thank you my friend. If UkiRani knows that she cannot rely on your support, I am sure she will agree to my terms, which I shall state in such a way that she does not feel like a loser, although in fact she is one, as you well know.

Chump: You got it right Ruso. UKiRani will have no option but to agree to a Peace agreement where she will need to concede some territory but have the satisfaction that the war will end. But I have one very potential big problem Ruso. Will she accept not to accept the protection of Nato? If she digs her heels and insist that Nato should be given the right to protect her, what should I do? What is your advice Ruso?

To be continued….

The Sad Tale of UkiRani and Ruso. Mahendra "Speedy" Gonsalkorale

The Sad Tale of UkiRani and Ruso

Mahendra Gonsalkorale. 17^th February 2025

 Act 1

Setting: Living room in UkiRani’s house in Europe. UkiRani is seated on a sofa knitting.

Enter Ruso, looking very agitated: he bows to UkiRani and addresses her.

Ruso: Hello, my lovely UkiRani. I have come to see you on a matter of the greatest importance. This is not just a simple neighbourly call.

UkiRani: Why, Hello, Ruso! And what is this all about? Pray be seated.

Ruso sits down as requested. Looks uncomfortable and avoids the gaze of UkiRani.

Ruso: This is a rather delicate matter and I crave your indulgence and patient understanding.

UkiRani: You got me all of a flutter now, Ruso; pray, what is it?

Ruso: Rumour has it that you are getting very close to my enemy Nato and are considering allowing him to protect you. Nato, as you well know, is not the sort of person I would like a kind and beautiful soul like you to keep company with.

UkiRani: Oh! Come on Ruso! Nato is not really my friend but who can refuse a kind offer like his to protect me!

Ruso: But Nato is devious, and I hate to say this as I don’t want to upset a kind soul and indeed a close neighbour like you with whom I have had such a long association, but…

UkiRani: Yes Ruso, but…what?

Ruso: It is fair that you should be warned. Let me say again, as I have said many times, that I love you and would never do anything to harm you, but even such strong love as mine has limits. I hope you understand.

UkiRani gets up and looks directly at Ruso with a stern but sympathetic expression.

UkiRani: My dearest Ruso, as much as I care for you, I would not like you to tell me who I should like or dislike. I am an independent soul perfectly capable of managing my own affairs. I hope you understand that.

Ruso looks tormented as he walks to the open window, stares out, and returns to address UkiRani as she gazes at him anxiously.

Ruso: My dearest UkiRani, this is not easy to put across to you, but put it across, I must. If you insist on having ties with Nato, you will be responsible for the consequences. I beg of you to listen to me and ignore what that other “friend” of yours-Ha! Friend indeed!- is telling you and keep away from Nato. This other person, Youeseh, is dangerous and wants to spread his influence all over the World. I beg of you not to take advice from that scoundrel and listen to me, me who has such long ties with you and me, who shall never harm you…unless you leave me no alternative, and that will be so sad.

UkiRani returns to her sofa, quite distressed and after a short period of silence, addresses Ruso.

UkiRani: That was quite a speech young Ruso! However, I have to Put you in your place. My friendship with Nato is not intended to harm you Ruso, or any of my neighbours. We have far too much in common and much to lose.

Ruso, red-faced and angry, looks directly at UkiRani

Ruso: That is good to hear, but I am deeply saddened if you insist on letting in Nato and value the advice of Youeseh, that megalomaniac scoundrel, much more than mine. In which case, I have no alternative but to take action to protect my country, and that will be a sad day for all of us.

Ruso turns around and storms out of the room.UkiRani is speechless and stares at him close to tears as he leaves in a huff.

UkiRani:  I know him only too well. He will never invade my territory as he knows quite well that it will cause such unspeakable agony.

Postscript: Ruso could not accept UkiRani’s friendship with Nato, and “all hell erupted”.

The End

Act 2 to follow