The year of Internship- Part II

The year of Internship- Part II Kumar Gunawardene

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Work was demanding, particularly being on-call after a hard days work. But we were young and hardy; we would silently abuse the call boy who tapped our window deferentially when woken up from a deep slumber. Thus we managed to extract joy even in the most trying situations. 

The mornings would begin with a hurried breakfast, with little time for small talk. This was made up for at the morning tea break where tittle tattle dominated. Lunch was leisurely with much humour and cross talk. The quality of the food and the parentage of the cook came in for questioning often, albeit discreetly on account of the female company. 

We then retired for the afternoon siesta, joined often by Titus D of the blood bank who became part of the trio of Sunna , him and me. We talked incessantly of men(women too) and matters. His faithful nurse had told him that a pretty nurse was in love with me. He had rejoined, my friend has no such leanings. But we did have trysts in the shade of the Araliya tree, the scented blooms and cool breezes enhancing the pleasure. Titus tagged, Sunna and me to his nurse’s wedding in a village off Matara. This was the first traditional Sinhala wedding that we had attended. The beautiful bride herself welcomed us with a glass of water and we were given a honoured place at the dining table. The food was typical village fare and topped off with the best Ruhunu curd and Kithul treacle. We also spent a night with Titus and his parents in their ‘Mahagedara’ which awakened many memories of my grandparents' house and the village. 

Another close friend was Lalitha, the Dermatology resident who travelled daily from her ancestral home in Boosa. A Peradeniya graduate , she was friendly with us and ready and willing to join in all the fun and games. She stayed overnight on festive occasions and there were many of these. The biggest was the farewell for Vipula, the Senior resident;it was on a balmy evening, out in the open under a cloudless starry sky. Food was abundant and drinks flowed freely. I who had imbibed not wisely but too well embraced all my favourites.They didn’t protest. 

A different highlight was the variety performance in the Boosa racecourse clubhouse. C.T.Fernando sang live with a number of other artistes. All the residents who were not on call and many consultants and nurses joined in. The chiefs shouted drinks for us, the first being Dr Anandaraja. Naturally it was Beehive brandy. Baila dancing followed. Late at night, DBS a senior gave Sunna and me a lift in his VW beetle. We were crammed into the back seat with a couple of nurses. The ride was delightful. 

Every payday we had a feast.The toast was with Beehive brandy, the most expensive local drink at the time; followed by ‘Pol’-coconut arrack if we were in luck or ‘Gal’ arrack-raw ethanol flavoured with the real thing. The singing would commence with decent favourites - CT ‘s and other popular melodies. Byrd G a senior,high minded and serious accompanied us on guitar. Soon, bawdy ballads followed much to the disgust of Byrd who would walk away. The more ‘spirited’ ones called out ‘Oi cock Byrd come back’. The evening ended with the launching of ‘Ahas Gundu’ -sky rockets to the nurse’s quarters. They enjoyed the show as much as we did and hurled back their own rockets. However late the party went on we were back at work at eight o’ clock, the following morning notwithstanding thick heads.

Most evenings we played badminton with nurses and fellow residents. The single nurses were young, attractive and companionable. Looking back it’s with a tinge of sorrow that I acknowledge their hard work, solitary lives and aspirations. Many of us went onto have fulfilling careers, but these girls who were equally intelligent, languished for want of opportunities. As was said by Claude Chabrol “you have to accept the fact, sometimes you are the pigeon,and sometimes you are the statue”; or perhaps more precisely some are pigeons and some are statues. During the cricket season we played softball matches in the front patch, more gravel than grass. Being a former schoolboy cricketer, I was chosen to play in the annual law medical match;this was held in the Galle esplanade which is now a renowned test match venue. I do not remember the result but do recall the merriment and also the sprained wrist, the result of a diving catch. 

Some nights we played poker. MBS was a spirited enthusiast, but Sunna was usually the winner even with poor hands. He had a ‘poker face’ which registered no emotion; I on the contrary displayed all emotions. Naturally I was a loser, but the stakes were small, one cent. 

Some moonlit evenings we wandered to the nearby Unawatuna beach the famed Welle Kovila.Tourism hadn’t touched it then and we were free to cavort by ourselves swimming in the shallow warm sea and drinking beer. Girls joined us too, making the evenings that much more enthralling. We all crammed into Fully’s car, and he being a teetotaller transported us safely. 

Sunna loved to travel and I joined him on many occasions. One was to a friend’s (Raja W)house beyond Matara. The ride in pitch darkness, sans helmet was hair raising. No alcohol passed his lips and we returned safely after midnight. 

The trip to Yala and Lahugala was next. Sunna was the chauffeur of his father’s Land Rover, Ranjan F, the wildlife expert the guide and MBS the most vocal participant. Sunna’s and his ideas of what was worth watching differed widely. MBS wanted to stop by every deer and wild buffalo;the rest were keen to see leopards, elephants and bears. At one spot we spotted the lotus like paw marks of a leopard, and foolishly got down. Suddenly we saw its ferocious face in the undergrowth and sprinted back to the Jeep. Luckily he did not spring. We spent a night in Lahugala in the watcher’s hut. He had a campfire going and we saw herds of wild elephants strolling leisurely on the opposite bank of the reservoir. Next morning, Ranjan led our pack from the front and would summon us with a sweeping wave of his arms if there was anything worth seeing;in spite of his precautions, we were nearly charged by a pack of wild buffaloes. 

At the end of our term Titus and I went with Sunna to Nuwaraeliya, where A was working. We arrived unannounced,but she graciously hosted us at her brother’s home. It was very cold , and we were grateful for the roaring fireplace and the many blankets she managed to get. The next morning she came with us to her home in Kandy, and then to Colombo. Her younger sister joined us for lunch.She was indeed a typical Kandyan beauty. The sweetest memory of that trip was A, singing “Somewhere my love ”Doctor Zhivago had just hit the screens in Ceylon and the song was on the lips of all young girls; I thought her version was better than Connie Francis’s.!! 

All good things must come to an end and so did “l’annee de gloire”.The farewells were tearful. It was a wrench to leave the hospital by the sea where so much had happened in a year. We were unemployed now and had to go our own ways. I stayed on in Galle for three more months, working as a GP locum arranged by MBS with a friend, Dr A.S.H.De Silva. It was different to hospital work but interesting. As the evenings were free his brother Kingsley and I strolled on the Galle fort ramparts most days ending up with our favourite beer Lion lager. Sunna too did some locuming before going off to USA. Titus stayed on in the blood bank at Galle. Rohini S came back to Colombo.