December 8, 2018, 7:16 pm
by Dr Nihal D Amerasekera
My head gets clouded with images of the past as I write this in the fading twilight of a winter’s day in England. I left the comfort and sanctuary of my home in Sri Lanka for the bright lights of London exactly 44 years ago. Bringing up children and building up a career has taken much time and effort. Now that too seems a distant memory.
Retirement provides the time and the space to rummage deep into my childhood. Those memories seem to fade and wane as the years pass. I am married to a non-Sri Lankan. Hence our lives do not revolve around my home country, culture or its cuisine. Our friends belong to many different continents. I have tried hard to retain my birth-tongue but disuse has made it hard even to construct a coherent sentence. The huge changes that have taken place in the Sinhala language in my own country makes it doubly difficult. Nowadays I cannot understand much of the Sinhala Radio and TV programmes. I thought YAHAPALANAYA was something about Jaffna until I realized the context was different. My precious Sinhala writing skills have gone with the wind. What has remained with me are the few swear words I was not allowed to use either at school or home.
I am not a regular visitor to Sri Lanka. Despite my deep and lasting roots there, I feel so much like a tourist in the country of my birth. Colombo now is a bustling city fizzing with energy. There are eating houses and restaurants in every street corner and they all seem packed to the rafters with people. On every visit I find the roads increasingly clogged up with vehicles spewing acrid fumes. It is a sign of progress and also one of regress as the infrastructure has not kept up with the times. Even the genteel Nugegoda of my childhood is a cauldron of vehicles and humanity. The known landmarks of my childhood are all gone, demolished or obscured by the growth of new and bigger buildings and the appearance of new highways and byways. I feel disorientated in the city searching for those last remaining vestiges of my lost world.
I grew up in a peaceful Ceylon just released from the clutches of the British Empire. In my childhood the days and nights were quiet beyond belief. Fireflies lit up the dark corners of our garden. There were so few cars on the road. Sundays were particularly tranquil. The morning ritual was to read the Sunday newspapers. Sunday lunch was special, a sumptuous meal with the family, ending with curd and kitul treacle. A brief siesta was broken by the start of Sunday choice at 2pm with that unmistakable signature tune "For each his own" sung by the Ink Spots.
In my retirement, when awake at night, there are always the inescapable journeys to the past. Despite the passage of years I still miss my school friends. There was no shortage of friends in the school boarding. We played cricket in the blistering sun and football in the monsoon rains. Wesley College had a huge Burgher population who brought much fun to life at school. Many of them emigrated to Australia and sadly, reaching them isn’t easy. Holidays were spent in the peaceful countryside where my father was stationed, far away from Colombo. There I made new friends with whom there were new adventures. We went fishing in fast flowing streams and swam in murky ponds. Unlike modern kids who feel imprisoned at home we had the freedom to roam the fields on our bare feet. Sadly, many of the friends have now departed this world. Their youthful faces and friendly smiles still linger in my thoughts. I remember most fondly the closeness that developed in those years, the little tiffs that ensued, the laughter and the pleasures we enjoyed. The sense of loss of those years and those friendships seem indelible.
In those days at lunch, at bars and when meeting friends everyone talked politics. Now politics seem out of bounds not wanting to be on the wrong side and disappear into a white van. My knowledge of SL politics are frozen in time in the 60’s and 70’s. I still remember the Bandaranaikes, NM Perera, Colvin R de Silva and before that D.S and Dudley Senanayake, and John Kotelawala. OEG pulled the strings as Governor General. None of them are around now. I know nothing of the new breed of politicians or which party is in power. The Presidential form of democracy which we have adopted has changed the old order bringing a new dimension to politics. It will always be debated if this was ever necessary.
Before television arrived, it was the wireless that gave us the news and provided entertainment. I recall the Pye radio we owned. It had a green magic eye for easy tuning. Despite the hiss and the crackle we had decent reception at least when the sun was shining. Livy Wijemanne, Vernon Corea, Vijaya Corea, Eardley Peiris and Jimmy Barucha are names I still remember of the announcers who flooded the airwaves. They became celebrities and household names. Now, Radio and TV worldwide are cram-full of advertisements. I cannot fault their news coverage and excellent entertainment. But I still miss the elegance and the charm of the old-fashioned radio which embodied the values of a bygone era of politeness, affability and civility. Perhaps a sign of my age!!
Cricket has been my passion since childhood. At every opportunity I played cricket in some back street, broke windows and got scolded. From then on cricket ran in my blood. My strictly limited talent for playing meant I would be forever a spectator. I am still a supporter of our national team and have spent many happy hours watching the team at Lords. My countrymen have given me immense pleasure over the years. I do wish we could come out of the doldrums back to those winning ways. Speaking with Sri Lankans I get a myriad of reasons for our failures but it worries me not to see the light at the end of the tunnel.
I love Sinhala music. Whenever we had visitors, it was a family ritual for us kids to sing those popular songs of Sunil Santha. Those of my vintage tend to stick with the songs of our youth. I followed closely the local music scene until I left Sri Lanka. Since then my Sinhala music repertoire had remained static. I was brought up with the Sinhala cinema of Eddie Jayamanne and Rukmani Devi and those touching scenic tales of village life. Then came the magnetism and brilliance of Henry Jayasena and Gamini Fonseka.The talented producers D.B Nihalsinghe and Lester James Peiris transformed the industry. I still recall their haunting film music and the rags to riches stories. I never saw any Sinhala films after leaving home. Contemporary Sinhala music has retained its links to the past but I’m told the cinema has moved in leaps and bounds to portray real life more closely. The last Sinhala story book I read was Rathu Rosa Mal, a brilliant short story by Gunadasa Amarasekera, written in such elegant prose. I have lost much of my rich culture and heritage but have broadened my horizons and gained enormously from my adopted home.
I am still mesmerised by the beauty and the history of our ancient cities. Kandy is particularly atmospheric in August during the ‘Esala Perahera’. Sri Lanka’s delicious food and breath-taking landscapes has long been talked about. Those living in Sri Lanka take for granted the exquisite beauty of the green terraced paddy fields, blue mountains of the central hills, the shimmering turquoise ocean and the golden sandy beaches that surround us. I miss visiting such places which brought me great joy while growing up. Now they seem so distant.
Marriage must still be a good topic of conversation in Sri Lanka. I have often wondered if the old caste system still prevails. In the old days there was a tug of war between the Karawa and the Govigama castes as to who was superior. One of my school mates who belonged to the Karawa (fisher-caste) said with great conviction "when we eat rice we put the fish on top of the rice". Has the influence of caste declined with greater urbanisation and secular education? Is the caste still a major factor in marriages or have we moved with the times and accepted all humanity are born equal? Does money even out the discrepancies? I wonder if dowries are still in vogue and are considered important in marriages. I assume there are many more marriages now which are not formally arranged. Is there ever a belief in the age old aphorism Amor Vincit Omnia (love conquers everything)? Perhaps, the old days of the "kapuwa" and the arranged meetings of the couple are stories for the Sinhala cinema. In the UK the internet plays a huge part in introducing couples for marriage. The next partner may be just a few clicks of the rodent away.
At the time of independence the population of Ceylon was eight million. The majority lived in villages. There was a powerful aristocracy that ruled us. The Bandaranaike’s, Senanayake’s, Molamure’s are a few of the names that come to mind. The ruling elite lived in the lap of luxury in their mansions with a retinue of servants. The middle class was small and mostly worked for the government. The wind of change blew across our island in the mid 1950’s bringing with it a new dawn, the era of the common man. That was true democracy at work. Thereafter the villagers were better represented in government. I wonder if the aristocracy still exists or has it now merged with the ever-widening middle class.
When I left Sri Lanka there were economic hardships but the country was at peace. Then began the long and destructive ethnic conflict.This shattered the peace and destroyed the lives of our people. Now peace has returned at last. As they rebuild the fractured links I hope they relearn the art of peace. It is my sincere wish we will never again return to those perilous times again.
I have missed my family in Sri Lanka enormously and have paid a heavy price for my desire to live and work abroad. I wasn’t present for the births, weddings and deaths of those most dear to me. I am now a stranger to the new generation born during my absence. I feel a foreigner in the country of my birth as Sri Lanka has moved forward despite the destructive forces of a long ethnic conflict. Although I live happily in England I have left my heart in that beautiful island of my birth and the land of my fore-fathers. Writing about my loss is cathartic and is a perfect way to empty my mind and feel at peace.
