The Welgama Matriarch
Dr Kumar Gunawardane. Published
28th Feb 2021 in the Island on line
( 05/01/1928 ~06/02/2021)- published in
the Island (http://island.lk/the-welgama-matriarch/
)
A son-in-law remembers “Our beloved Amma, Beatrice, is no more”.
The rock
around which the family’s hopes and fears flapped, sometimes swirled and raged
is no more. In Khalil Gibran’s deathless verse,
“The most beautiful word on the lips of mankind,
Is the word ‘‘Mother’……..
The mother is everything,
She is our consolation in sorrow,
Our Hope in misery,
And our strength in weakness,
She is the source of love,
Mercy, sympathy and forgiveness.”
I remember
the first day we met. She and her husband had come to see my parents and me as
a prospective son-in law-for their second daughter, Kanthi. Beatrice was one of
the most beautiful Sinhala women I had seen. Secretly I was delighted. Surely
her daughter must be equally or more beautiful. In fact, Mrs. Welgama was more
captivating than all her daughters.
Kanthi’s
father was moved by my ‘simplicity.’ A self-made man from the hinterland of the
Kalutara district, he was warmed by my unpretentious attire – a sarong and
shirt.
The bonds
forged on that propitious day would last a lifetime. They both treated me like
one of their own, more so after my own parents passed away.
Amma was
born in a sylvan hamlet in the Kandyan hills and the grandeur of the mountains
and the beauty of the valleys seemed etched in her. She was betrothed as a
beautiful teenager to a mature but equally good looking and imposing husband.
At first she may have been overawed by him, an entrepreneur who went onto build
one of the largest trucking companies of the land; but soon became an equal
partner.
Her first
and highest priority after her spouse was the family; the children, children’s
children and us children by marriage. When I was dealt an injustice by the
department of health, she who was welcome in the highest circles of the land
endured agonizing waits and arrogance of the then health minister. She was as
disappointed as I that I was not able to accept a training position in a major
American centre due to the intransigence of bureaucrats. Being a woman, the
minister should have been more sympathetic to a mother’s anguish. In some ways
I was glad that her efforts didn’t bear fruit;I ended up in Australia rather
than USA.
Again when
part of Kanthi’s property, in a fashionable suburb of Colombo, was annexed, it
was she who toiled and laboured to get us some compensation. Similarly, when a
large extent of land that belonged to her husband was seized by the State it
was she who obtained some recompense which, though meagre in comparison to its
value, enabled her to build a hospital in memory of her much loved husband.
This had been his cherished ambition.
His own
mother had died at childbirth and his aspiration for the impoverished women of
his village was an easily accessible, well equipped and staffed maternity
health centre. She worked like a Trojan coaxing and cajoling suppliers,
contractors and craftsmen and even attending to even the most minor details. The
day that the hospital was declared open by the then President would have been
one of the happiest days of her life. She may well have echoed the poet’s words
“My task on earth is done, by thy grace, the victory’s won”.
She would be
the first to rush to the sides of her daughters having their babies and to
other afflicted relatives. When I had major surgery, she travelled alone across
two continents to be with me and Kanthi the next day. Arriving directly from the
airport to the intensive care unit, her mere presence hastened my recovery. Staying
on for a month, leaving her husband and rest of the family at home, the
counselling and support she gave Kanthi and me was immeasurable.
When my
father was hospitalised for the first and last time in his long life it was
Amma who visited him every day. He was widowed and both sons were unable to
come quickly. On his last day he told her, “Sister, for what you are doing to
me you will be born an Imperial Princess in your next birth.”
Her
hospitality was legendary. We would look forward eagerly to the weekly lunch on
a Sunday. The repasts were magnificent, fit for royalty; an excellent cook
herself every delicious dish was checked and augmented by her. Our favourites
were the pork curry and biscuit pudding. The family gathering was convivial and
full of fun and we retired for the conventional siesta only hours later.
Whenever
Kanthi and I arrived from Australia she was at the airport even if the hour was
ungodly. The journey to her house in Wellawatte was long in the pre-highway
days. Mother and daughter in the back seat would catch up on news and gossip
while I snatched forty winks. The house was sparkling clean and brightly lit
and the dining table loaded with ripe bananas and sweetmeats. We would quickly
adjourn to the bedroom, air-conditioned to dispel the heat and humidity. The
bed and linen were luxurious and we would sleep soundly until the houseboy
Gamini’s deferential knock the next morning woke us for bed tea.
Afterwards I
would go for a walk on the beach, only a quarter-mile away, with Gamini and the
faithful hound, Jimmy. To quote my own words “the bracing cool of the morning,
the fresh air, the soft breezes and the music of the waves, crashing on the
shore was the perfect start for a new day. Gamini and Jimmy squatted on a rock,
watching me walk barefoot on the sand, with the warm salt water wetting my feet
only now and then. They did not need the workout.”
Every meal
was a delight. She got the choicest fruit, vegetables and fish in season from
the Kollupitiya market. Her favourite vendor Sanath whom she had helped gave
her only the best.
The car and
chauffeur were at our disposal for shopping -books and music for me, clothes, gifts
and souvenirs for Kanthi. There were of course innumerable parties and the
occasional visit to a coastal resort down south and sometimes a hill country
resort.
These
holidays with Amma are an indelible memory; although we have had vacations in
many exotic parts of the world, we will always treasure these grand times with
her.
With five
daughters of marriageable age, wedding planning and dressing brides became her
metier long before it became a lucrative business. She dressed six brides at
home, the sixth being our Australian sister-in-law; she dressed countless other
brides too as her fame had spread far and wide.
Months
before the event, she would go on shopping sprees to Chennai and Mumbai for
sarees, jewellery and other paraphernalia deemed essential for brides from
affluent families. Her husband gave her free rein, but being prudent she would
get the best only at the right price. There were a thousand and one other
matters and people to be dealt with. She did them all, maybe with some fuss,
but well nevertheless.
The weddings
themselves were spectacular events graced by the esteemed, the chic and friends
and relatives. One of our attesting witnesses, J.R.Jayewardene and a guest,
R.Premadasa, went on to become Presidents. The other attesting witness
Maithripala Senanayake, the then deputy prime minister, was a rarity even then
– an honest gentlemanly politician.
Our nuptials
were at the Mount Lavinia Hotel overlooking the azure waters of the Indian
Ocean and my alma mater, S. Thomas, the famed school by the sea. The pomp and
splendour of the ceremony overawed me. I remember an aunt whispering to me ‘
smile putha ,smile’. Very few of the guests may have known the immense efforts
that Amma put in to stage this breath-taking event.
She was
fearless in the mould of our national hero, Madduma Bandara or even Lord
Horatio Nelson of whom she would have learnt at school. It could have been
inborn or acquired from her husband whose forefathers were soldiers in the
service of the Sinhala kings. Perhaps, many pregnancies and childbirths would
have made her immune to pain and fear.
On the first
day of the disturbances of July 1983, returning from Ratnapura, we were stopped
many times by goons wielding clubs, knives and swords, enquiring about our
ethnicity. Our driver was timid and so was I. But Amma who was in the backseat
with Kanthi ordered them loudly to let us proceed. And they did.
When we
reached Wellawatte the street was ablaze with household goods set on fire. The
house itself was packed with Tamil neighbours, numbering more than 50. Without
batting an eyelid and unmindful of her own safety and that of the family she
set about looking after them till they moved to a refugee camp the next day.
Nearly 40 years later, I can scarcely believe how she managed such a feat.
Travel was a
passion and It gave us much satisfaction to indulge her. Their first vacation in
the West was in Britain in 1975. They were blessed with a golden summer. We were
then living in Shotley Bridge, a picturesque town halfway between Newcastle
upon Tyne and Durham. From there they visited the Lake District, Edinburgh and
other famed tourist spots.
In London
their gracious and caring hosts were our good friends, Lalitha and Gemunu; they
were taken around to many vibrant tourist attractions and Amma was able to shop
for her daughters in Oxford street and the bustling markets. She had been given
long lists of items to buy.
Kanthi and I
then accompanied them to Freiburg in the Black Forest district where a son,
Mahinda, was a University student. He spoke German like a local, knew all the
important sights and had many good friends, young and old. One of them, Frau
Laufer welcomed us to her opulent mansion where we stayed. I remember
specifically the cellar as large as the house where she stored homemade wines,
jams and pickled fruit.
Two
unforgettable visits were to the Mercedes Benz factory in Stuttgart and the
other, a day trip to Switzerland. Father, a Mercedes enthusiast was enthralled
with the automated production of cars. They were enchanted with all the places
they visited and language barriers didn’t hold them back from socialising with
the locals. As Germany and Switzerland were very different from Britain, their
holiday was as varied and fascinating as they could have wished.
Their last
vacation together was to Hawaii and Disneyland and as I was working in Los
Angeles able to guide them around Anaheim.
After the
passing away of Father we were able to take her with us on two European tours,
a couple of USA vacations and a Scandinavian tour which she much enjoyed. Born
to a Catholic family, the tour of the Holy Land enchanted her the most. We also
visited Egypt afterwards. A good traveller, she revelled in fresh experiences
and cuisines and enjoyed meeting people of all ages.
The
childlike astonishment at her first sight of snow in Vancouver alone made that
journey worthwhile. The following day was sunny with blue skies and the Grouse
mountain covered in a white blanket was a sight to behold. Walking and riding
in a snow cart on the mountaintop thrilled her.
Now, there is
only a void that can never be filled. Yet we rejoice in a life lived to the
full, mostly in the service of others.
“A mother is she,
Who can take the place of all others,
But whose place, no one can take”
Cardinal
Mermillod
May her
journey in Samsara be short and may she attain the supreme bliss of Nibbana.
Kumar
Gunawardane
Emeritus Consultant Cardiologist
