Where Have all the Flowers Gone?

 

Where Have all the Flowers Gone?

By Nihal D Amerasekera

 

For many years now since my retirement, Friday Night has been my Music Night. It is the time I listen to 1950’s and 60’s music and let my thoughts wander through the now hazy maze of time. The song that often strikes a chord is that one with the poignant lyrics and haunting melody composed by Pete Seeger. It took the whole world by storm and in 1962 the version by the Kingston Trio engulfed our little island like no other. Although attributed to the Vietnam War it reminds me of medical school and our time together. We had a large contingent of girls in our batch and I’ve often wondered where they are now.

With my Evangelical Christian upbringing, I spent my testosterone-charged teenage years in an all-boys school deprived of female company. Faculty life needed some getting used to. As I entered the portals of that temple of wisdom in Kynsey Road, I soon realised there was more to life than Botany, Zoology, Chemistry and Physics. The sexual attraction was compelling and generated a potent chemical reaction. Bedazzled by the ambience, I felt self-conscious in the new surroundings wanting to be in my best behaviour in the company of girls. It didn’t come easily to be gallant and courteous!! Although 1960’s was the era of Sex, Drugs and Rock’n Roll such pleasures hadn’t arrived in our little island, yet. Social distancing was built in, separating the boys from the girls. We then lived in a rigidly puritanical and austere society. On arrival at the Faculty, I found some of the lads were self-assured and poked fun at the world around them. I soon realised they were not radical extremists but just lived lives expected of bohemian medical students. So I had to adjust and seek the middle ground. I stopped blushing at their unbridled erotic humour. Then I discovered alcohol, learnt to think freely, argue, question and not bother too much about what the world thought of me.

The girls too were from all-girl institutions and were overwhelmed by parental pressures and existing norms fed by our own Sri Lankan culture. Many of the girls were reserved not wanting to be seen as ‘easy game’ in the patriarchal society of 50 years ago.  They all believed in the mantra WYSWYG. Girls from the Colombo schools were posh and pushy and showed off the flesh below the neck and flashed a bit above the knee, for good measure. They even pushed their chests forward-moving the centre of gravity, dangerously. The rest most modestly covered their wares with glamourous sarees with vibrant colours.  In this context, I must refer to that famous aphorism that had entered the folklore of our great institution, “My face is my dowry”. Although the expression has more than a hint of vanity and attributed to a girl in our batch its real origin and the context is lost in the fog of time. It would be unfair to hold it against anyone. With our strict puritanical tenets, the face was the only bit of female anatomy visible to the ‘naked eye’. Perhaps the phrase was a reference to Helen of Troy in Greek Mythology - the face that launched a thousand ships?

This was a time when the old caste and dowry system still prevailed and arranged marriages were still in vogue. But Cupid had his way in the Faculty and shot his golden arrows to change the status quo. Amor Vincit Omnia (love conquers everything), how very true. Despite the harsh environment of education, hard toil and the prevailing ethos, love did blossom for some. Sadly, for a few those blossoms faded before we left the hallowed precincts in 1967. The faculty was a hotbed of gossip. News swirled around its lecture rooms and corridors about couples, affairs and the breakdown of relationships. Perhaps it broke the monotony of the never-ending examinations and hard study, a welcome distraction from the daily toil we all endured.

In the first 2 years, girls were seen in groups chatting and giggling in their own world. Three of them who were always together were unkindly labelled - anorexia, nausea and vomiting.  Even now when I see them it is as if those names are tattooed on the foreheads. I do respect their wish to maintain their modesty and cultural values.  As the years passed the social climate improved. The icy chill gave way to a thaw. There was better understanding and friendships all round between the sexes. Personally, I was very fortunate to have girls in my group who mixed freely and appreciated our crass humour. There were a few girls in our batch who were sassy trailblazers keeping up with the boys with their racy jokes and mischievous fun. I do respect their boldness in not conforming to the futile cultural constraints in our adult seat of learning.

On looking back what amazes me was my inability to connect with many of the girls during the entire 5 years in medical school except perhaps to raise a cursory smile when passing them on the endless corridors of our domain. The powers that be in the Faculty of Medicine, in their wisdom, kept us apart giving us a Mens’ Common Room where girls never dared to visit. Much has changed and we are in a different era. Now when I meet the girls from our batch at gatherings and reunions it generates such a sense of warmth and accelerated intimacy. I do regret not having made contact at the faculty. They are such lovely and friendly people. Now we can talk and laugh openly about our younger-selves and how we behaved conforming to our austere world. Friendship is a two-way street and I do acknowledge that for some there were social and cultural barriers that were far too difficult to transgress.  Being shy is not a crime but it feels like that now.

I cannot think of many things that humanity has benefitted in this time of Covid-19. One that comes to mind easily is reuniting people via Zoom. It has been a great pleasure to see several from our batch both male and female and to speak with them. Amazingly they don’t look any older than when I saw them last in 1967. They all seem to have retained their wicked sense of humour. The girls haven’t lost their sense of style and good looks. The boys have lost much of their hair but not their heads.

Now in this age of easy communication, digital phones and social media, it is hard to believe men and women behaved in that manner in our highest seat of learning. Much has changed since for both men and women. For the women, they can nip and tuck, facelift or use Botox to look young and beautiful. Men have the pleasure of Sildenafil to raise the fallen. We all benefit from the 120-year evolution of womens’ suffrage and the preservation of womens’ rights.  They can mix freely, speak without fear and even lead a country. Just like the men, the ladies from our batch went on to enjoy prestigious careers in the profession and hold celebrated positions in society.

This is a reminiscent glimpse into an era now long gone. When I wander into those happy days as a medical student I still rancour about the separation of the sexes as an unwanted remnant of a prudish past.