The Weligama Matriach- Kumar Gunawardane

 The Welgama Matriarch

 Dr Kumar Gunawardane. Published 28^th 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