Cyril Ernest; The Friend, The Man

CYRIL ERNEST; THE FRIEND, THE MAN

Kumar Gunawardane

“A good friend is like a four-leaf clover; hard to find and lucky to have.”

                                                                              Irish Proverb

(Christian legend has it that Eve stashed a four-leaf clover when expelled from Paradise, as a remembrance of how beautiful and wonderful Paradise was),

I had planned for quite some time to write this accolade but was propelled into action, by the news of Cyril’s retirement.

We first met on the green fields of St Benedict’s college; the first cricket match for us of the 1960 cricket season. STC was captained by Lareef Idroos.   We were the underdogs, with only two colours men and ten freshers. Still, we won. Our mutual friend Mano Ponniah has reminded me, many a time how I caught Cyril out in both innings behind the stumps. He opened batting with Ranjit Fernando; they both went on to play for Ceylon.

Cyril was a favourite of the partisan populace of Kotahena and they voiced their displeasure at his dismissal time and again. Each time, I went through the stumping motions, when receiving an outfield throw, there were loud boos. Their language too was colourful but not profane. The chants of ‘Ara okata ara, patiya uding ara ( smash him, smash him over the ropes), must have been unnerving to our bowlers.

My cricketing career was as brief and unremarkable as Cyril’s was long and glittering. He excelled in other sports too and these have been well documented in Mahen’s article.

We were roommates at the Bloemfontein, for a few months during our final year at Medical School. He was placid but serious about his studies and so was I after a brief period of profligacy. We burnt the midnight oil poring over tedious texts and scribbled lecture notes; each at his solitary desk, in the darkness of the night illumined by a single desk lamp, oblivious to the cacophony of the cicadas and the flash of the fireflies outside. We shared many things, but not his mysterious disappearances, some weekends. Only much later did I learn that he was visiting the love of his life, Indrani a fellow medical student at Peradeniya.

I was aware that he shone in many sports, but neither then nor later, did he ever boast of his triumphs. Rightly, has it been said that fullness is always quiet.

We met just the once during our internship at the Castle Street Hospital where he was. Serendipitously or maybe wittingly, I also met a ‘couer palpitor’; Cyril after a few minutes disappeared discreetly.

Twenty-one years were to pass before we met again. I had come to Los Angeles to do an advanced fellowship in echocardiography with Tony Chandraratne, perhaps the most eminent academic cardiologist that Sri Lanka has produced. Cyril was a cardiologist well established in private practice in Lancaster a city just north of Los Angeles.

 He somehow found the hotel where I was staying and took me one weekend to his beautiful home in Encino, the suburb where Michael Jackson too lived.

Thereafter till Kanthi arrived he, Indrani and their two lovely daughters  Cheryl and Melanie hosted me every weekend he was off. I recall two things from that first visit. Firstly, the caution not to open the windows or doors in my room as that would trigger a burglar alarm and an armed response. Secondly that they had the biggest TV I had seen up to then. Indrani was a gourmet cook and I was well fed. There were many mundane things to attend to pending Kanthi’s arrival. Renting an apartment, and since all were unfurnished, leasing the chattels to make it habitable. In all these, they were a tower of strength. But there were fun moments too. One I remember is the visit to an orange grove in the outskirts of the city-owned by one of their friends; a tour of the garden followed by a barbecue.

Even after  Kanthi joined me their hospitality continued unabated. There were functions to introduce us to medical school colleagues and also distinguished cardiologists. I remember in particular the chief of the coronary care unit of the Ceders-Sinai medical centre. Cyril was keen for me to do an attachment with him, but for a variety of reasons I missed out.

There were tough times too. Kanthi was stricken one day with a severe upper abdominal pain. Surmising the source to be the gallbladder, I was prepared for her to the fate of surgery. Cyril and Indrani took us to their rooms, got the necessary investigations done and consulted with their surgical colleague Tom Mahendran another of our juniors. Fortunately, it was an intestinal colic.

In that pre-blog, pre mega -reunion days, camaraderie beyond one’s immediate circle was not very evident. It was only Cyril and  Indrani, Chitta, Lareef and Nabila, Gamini and Sirima Hethumuni and Sabitha Illangakoon from the immediate junior year who made our stay so pleasant and delightful. Another Colombo graduate Dr Lakshman Makandura who was working with Tony Chandraratne was like a brother to us.

The days rolled onto weeks and months and it was soon time to leave.The farewells were sad. We spent the last night with Gamini and Sirima who lived in the adjoining suburb of San Marino; Lakshman and  Sabitha accompanied us to the airport. Sabitha, to dispel our gloom kept relating outrageously funny stories.

In January 2020 Bora, Cyril and  I spent an engaging afternoon in the luxurious Anantara resort in Tangalle. Lazing on deck chairs, in the shade of tall coconut palms denuded of nuts, with the breezes of the Indian Ocean cooling us we talked and laughed. Cricketing yarns, the good old days and of men and matters; but once again nothing about his own undoubted achievements. We only broke up to be on time, for Lareef’s daughter Sabrina’s wedding. The ceremony was in view of the ocean and the setting sun and the reception in the magnificent old Walauwa.

“ In the sweetness of friendship,
   let there be laughter , and sharing of pleasures,
   For in the dew of little things,
   The heart finds its morning and is refreshed“
    Khalil Gibran