Remembrance 2023
Dr Nihal D Amarasekera
It was so long
ago; the details are now hazy. I dab a tear as I reminisce, a tear of joy and
of sorrow. I am overwhelmed by nostalgia as I recall those days in the
Faculty. I remember with a sense of loss a kinder gentler world
which disappeared forever as I left medical school. The most painful of all is
the disappearance from my life the people who meant so much to me, my
friends. But then I remind myself that health is wealth. Time is the only true currency. We were so
much a part of the faculty and the GHC, the voices and laughter of those
departed must still echo in the ether of those hallowed grounds.
The 30th of May
is the day we remember our dear departed friends from our batch. This is now a
special date in our Calendar. We have most aptly called this our “Remembrance
Day.” I will indeed bow my head in remembrance of my friends and celebrate
their lives. The gnawing pain of the loss of friends never eases with the
passage of time. Friendships are one of life’s rich gifts. Those made and
firmed in our youth are very special and are for life. They left us
prompting great sadness; however, they leave behind fond and unique memories.
At
this time we think of the spouses and families of those who have departed this
life. They have had the immensely difficult and painful task of coming to terms
with living without their loved ones. We admire and commend their courage and
efforts to maintain contact and join our gatherings and reunions. They are an
integral part of our community and will always be welcome.
With its traditions
and rituals, the faculty was our Cathedral of Wisdom. Our jagged path from the
dissections in the Block to the ward classes and appointments across Kynsey
Road, we did them all together. We feel greatly privileged to have been taught
by some remarkable teachers. We take the opportunity to remember our
teachers on this our special day. The harsh, ‘no-nonsense’ environment taught
us to focus under pressure and develop an analytical mind. It gave us an
indomitable spirit for the rigours ahead. We remember them with much affection
and gratitude and thank them for their commitment to teaching.
My abiding memory
of those years are the long walks along those hospital corridors swinging a
knee hammer and proudly wearing the stethoscope around the neck. There was an
air of confidence and a touch of vanity which came from being a medical
student. The end result however was never the gilded velvety life we envisaged
in our youthful exuberance.
Considering the
quirks and achievements, our batch was unique. Although my career path was
never as distinguished as those of some of my contemporaries, still, my claim
to fame is that I once walked amongst them! Each one of us has played a part
professionally to serve society and the community wherever we have lived and
worked. The academic accomplishments and the professional success we see as we
look around, speak for themselves.
We are moving onwards on this long and tortuous journey of
life. The peaks and plateaus and the twists and turns seem to daunt us less.
Still, there are several challenges ahead. Despite life’s vain tumults, none of
us is here forever. Our time will come. I share this not to garner pity, but to
paint our new reality. The show must go on until the curtain falls.
We had around 150
in our batch. I knew them all, some just by sight and others by close
association due to alphabetical seating arrangement, studying together, being
from the same school and living in the same vicinity etc. The friendships and
closeness that we enjoyed have lasted a lifetime. Remembrance Day is a day to
remember all the batch-mates that have passed on. Each one of us will have
special and fond memories of those most near and dear. I would like to pay a
special tribute to those who were very close to me.
Bernard
Randeniya: I lost my best friend in Bernard Randeniya alias Claude Bernard. This
has left an echoing void. There was no one in my life like Bernard. There is
not a week that passes without thinking of him. As a young medical student with
his cherubic smile, he was funny, gregarious and an incorrigible flirt. His
pranks and foibles can fill a book. Always happy, he saw the world through
rose-tinted glasses. I visited him where he worked as DMO-Rattota (he mined for
gemstones), MOH-Hanguranketa (he went hunting for wild boar), MS-Kalutara
(moonlight parties by the river) and Director- Cancer Hospital Maharagama
(holding lavish dinner parties). He had unique gifts as a host and a matchless
gift for laughter. Wherever he was Bernard enjoyed good food, generous helpings
of the amber nectar and loved a jolly good sing-song. His love of life, amiable
kindness and generosity always stood out. Bernard passed away with great
dignity in November 1999 at the age of 58 years. The time we spent together
was a rich gift. So daring and so cheeky, Bernard’s playful nature and magical
presence will live on in all who knew him. To this day, I can hear his drawl and
see his mischievous smile.
Sivakumar
Vedavanam: I got to know “Veda” when we worked together in the Central Blood
Bank in Colombo. I recall the many evenings we drifted towards the Health
Department Sports Club to enjoy the amber nectar and put the world to right.
That was a time when the Medical Officer in the Blood Bank had to go to all
parts of our island to collect blood. On many occasions when he went on these journeys, he asked me to join him for company. He was indeed great company, and we did
have a jolly good time. During those trips, he showed tremendous kindness to
the Public Health Inspectors, attendants and labourers who were part of the
team. They loved him for his modesty, classless friendship and lavish
hospitality. Those were indeed memorable years. Veda was not an overtly
religious person but had a good understanding of the Hindu philosophy. Even as
a young man, he lead a virtuous and moral life. Veda accepted the ups and
downs of life with good grace. I will always remember him as a helpful and
loyal friend. I do regret not remaining close to him in later years. Veda had a
heart of gold and was a truly remarkable person. Adios amigo.
A.
Satchithananda: He was a highly cultured person of great intelligence. Satchi was urbane
and warm, with a small circle of close friends. We became pals playing table
tennis at the Faculty Common Room. That was the beginning of many years of
friendship. Being fans of the early Apple Computers we caught up again when he
was in Wisconsin, USA and I was in the U.K. Those Computers were then cheap and
cheerful and often disastrously unreliable. We found ways to keep them going.
Satchi was a clever and respected paediatrician when he walked away from the
profession due to ill-health. He was then at the height of his fame and
success. He wasn’t overtly religious but lead a principled life. His journey
through life was studded with sadness and tragedy, but he always managed to smile
and joke with friends. I remember well his charm and intellect. We met up in
London and enjoyed a lunch exchanging gifts. His present to me was a Gorecki’s
3rd Symphony, a sorrowful piece of work.
Understandably, the events of his past and his own illness had a
devastating effect on his life and his personality. Despite this, he maintained
his dignity and composure, remaining a loyal friend to the end. He indeed stood
above the common herd. Auf wiedersehen my friend.
Razaque Ahamat: We both lived
in Wattala. With a personality bigger than his waistline, he always had a fund
of stories to relate. During those years, what stands out is his helpful
kindness, his great sense of humour and charming convivial nature. All through
those years in the Faculty, he enjoyed life to the full. He joined in the many
dances, Colours Night and Block Nights that brightened up our lives. Razaque
was often one of the last of the stragglers to leave the King George’s Hall at
the break of dawn. His life then was an amalgam of experiences which he was
ever willing to relate, no holds barred. Those who attended the London Batch
Reunion in the 1990’s will remember Razaque for his dazzling display of the
Scottish kilt with knee-length skirt and long thick stockings. This costume
suited the big man to a tee. Razaque’s love of a good time never left him. He
bore his ever-debilitating and restrictive illness, stoically. He brought joy
to our lives and his was a life well lived. Razaque is sorely missed. Adieu
until we meet again.
H.N Wickramasinghe: I was
surprised and delighted to see him in the Paediatric ward in Kurunegala to
start his internship in June 1967. For the following 6 months, we were to save
lives together. I remember enjoying his engaging and entertaining chatter on
our first pay day when we walked to the Kurunegala Rest House for a beer. He
had an irrepressible zest for life and added colour and depth to our
conversation. This became a regular ritual until he left Kurunegala. Firm,
honest, tough and reliable, I couldn’t have asked for a better colleague. My
abiding memory of those times is our evening drinks together and the CT
Fernando songs we sang into the stillness of the night. I wish there were
smartphones to capture and treasure those moments. Sadly, we met again only
once when we chatted and reminisced and wandered into the idealism and
exuberance of our youth. HNW cut a smooth and genial figure and would live in
the hearts and minds of everyone who knew him. A truly wonderful and inspiring
friend, it brings me great sadness to think I will not be seeing that
ever-smiling face again. Goodbye my friend.
Priya Gunaratna: I got to know
Priya in 1967 in Kurunegala doing those arduous tasks of paediatric internship.
Poised, elegant and looking glamourous she was always immaculately turned out.
While at work, Priya was assiduous in her work and had the great ability to
remain calm and in control. Power and
authority did not rest easily on her shoulders. The nursing staff loved her. She showed tremendous kindness, courtesy and
patience to the children in her care and spoke warmly to their worried parents.
She saw only the best in others and was indeed a very special person. Priya was
a breath of fresh air in those days when females were too bashful and overly
prudish. We loved her sharp and mischievous wit. Priya was an excellent
raconteur and mimic. She lit up our tea breaks with a multitude of stories.
Sadly, our paths never crossed but for a brief but warm chat in the swish foyer
of The Cinnamon Grand in September 2012. I wish I could have accepted her
invitation to join her for tea and cakes. She will be long remembered for her
untiring efforts as one of the prominent organisers of our batch reunions in
Sri Lanka. Much loved wife and mother, Priya
had a good life. Arrivederci. May peace be with you forevermore.
Sunil R De Silva: Sunil was “Sunna”
for everyone except perhaps his parents. Although he came from the upper
echelons of Sri Lankan society, he had no airs and graces. He was a cultured
gentleman, one of the best I’ve met during my years in the faculty. What stands
out is the calmness he always showed despite the tough regime in the faculty of
medicine. Sunna spent his entire free time enjoying cups of tea chatting with
friends, playing billiards, bridge and table tennis. My abiding memory of Sunil
is his boundless wit and humour delivered with a poker face. Sunil was
soft-spoken, self-effacing and sober. His lifestyle was modest and
unpretentious. He was exceptionally kind to everyone and treated all with
courtesy and respect. Sunil never entertained any of that frivolous gossip
which was rampant in the university. He never took the easier path of following
the masses. His views were always well-considered but often unconventional.
When I bade farewell on that fateful day in 1967 in the plush lobby of the
faculty of medicine, I never knew I will not see Sunil again. His early demise
brought great sadness. Although we were together just for 5 years it is as if
I’ve known him all my life. I would have loved to see him age like me, suffer
the same indignities of the ‘Athey Paye Rudawa’, taking a pharmacy of tablets
to stay alive, while showering love to the grandchildren. He may have a chuckle reading this
narrative, wagging his finger at me. Sunil was a gem in a world of pebbles. His
was a short life well lived. I am grateful for his friendship. To live in the
hearts we leave behind is not to die.
Tilak Dayaratne: I came to know Tilak during the rag in 1962
when we both wore brinjals round our necks and exercised vigorously in the
quadrangle. Tilak lived in Homagama and rode his red Moto Guzzi generating
noise and elegance in equal measure. He often took me to Nugegoda weaving
through the High Level road traffic at high speed. When I offered to pay him
for the trip, he wanted to pay me for taking the risk. Tilak was a sensitive
and thoughtful man. He was disdainful of hypocrisy, social convention and
conformity. His apparent indifference should not be confused with a lack of
respect for values and beliefs. On those rare social occasions he ignited
interesting discussion and humour. Tilak detested the spotlight. To many, his
life was a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma. To those who got to
know him, Tilak was charming, kind and courteous. We got on tremendously well
during our days at the faculty. He was a talented artist. At an end of
appointment party, I recall that indelible moment when he stood up and sang
about a Dutch girl. Our hostess was from the Netherlands. I do regret not
keeping in touch after the great dispersal of 1967. He is now at peace, something
that eluded him most of his life. May it last forever.
Zita Perera Subasinghe: Although
we were in the same batch, I spoke with her for the first time in 2015 when we had all retired. We met up at Côte Brasserie off
Oxford Street in London with her husband Joe and Mahendra G. Despite the years,
this was a remarkable bonding, and there was so much closeness and intimacy. We
retraced our lives since medical school. I remember it to this day the clarity
with which Zita related the story of her life, work and family. What stood out
was how happy she was with her life. Always smiling and forever young, Zita
accepted the advancing years with delight and optimism.
She was
delightful company, always spoke kindly about people, and there was never a
harsh word. Humility is something that came naturally to Zita. She had a deep
concern for our planet and the perils of global warming.. Zita always had a
strong feeling for the batch and was very keen to meet the batch-mates. She
joined us in all the London Reunions organised by Pramilla Senanayake since
2016. Her supportive and encouraging comments has helped to keep our Blog
alive. Blessed with a rich vocabulary and a great gift for poetry she lit up
the Blog with her special brand of rhyming poems on a multitude of diverse
topics. The poems are an eclectic mix, some gentle observations others inspired
by her seaside home and some very moving. She wrote with gravity and depth and
also with lightness and humour.
To live the life
one wants, in the way one wants, is rare and is a brave and inspiring gift. To
persevere and live it with dignity and peace is something to be greatly
admired. Zita, you have achieved your goals better than most. It has been a
great privilege to get to know you and thank you for being my friend.
J.C.Fernando: JCF epitomised the ethos of our
batch like no other. From the rag to the final year trip and everything else in
between, he was in the thick of it. He was fiercely competitive be it a game of
billiards, table tennis or a friendly argument. He had no airs and graces,
spoke to everyone and made friends easily. Those playful and friendly exchanges
and teasing remarks were his hallmark. I have preserved to this day an email he
sent me appreciating an article I had written on the Blog.
JCF had the wonderful ability to
see the funny side of life in every situation relating his stories bringing
them to life. His singing at our evening booze-ups at the Men’s Common Room
will live in our minds forever. He packed a lot into his life.
He was so much a part of our
batch. I find it hard to believe I will not be seeing JC again.
May he find the ultimate Bliss of
Nirvana.
Sidath Jayanetti : Sidath
joined our batch with the reputation as a fine Rugby player from Royal College,
Colombo. He always had a great presence and an air of confidence but had the
humility kindness and charm to be liked by everyone who knew him.
My first close contact with him
was when we started our clinical work together with Dr Thanabalasunderam in
1964. It was a gruelling 2 months of apprenticeship which brought us all
together. The harsh criticism and hard comments never wiped away his broad
smile. We met again when he was SHO in Obs and Gynae in Kurunegala and I was
M.O, OPD. How time has flown since those happy days of our golden youth.
Sidath was superb company, always. His
anecdotes and stories of people and places brought us much laughter. His sheer
presence radiated happiness. My last contact with him was in London when he
attended the Batch Reunion in 1997 with his family. We reminisced and drank to
our health. My lasting memory is that broad smile which was Sidath's trade
mark. He was a gem in a world of pebbles.
Tudor Wickramarachi: He was
rather restless and intense as a medical student. He always gave as good as he
got. I also remember his ebullient and exuberant personality and his zest for
life. Tudor and I worked as surgical interns and endured the punishing schedule
of hospital medicine together. Amidst the brief tantrums, awful puns and risqué
humour, Tudor showed great empathy and tremendous kindness to his patients,
staff and colleagues. He was a loyal friend but was never inhibited by
sensitivity or shyness when it came to expressing his own opinion. Although occasionally boisterous he was mostly
gregarious, genial and generous. I visited him when he was DMO Dambulla. Call
it ‘oriental lavishness’, the bottle appeared before I sat down and to this day
remains a blissful memory of a well-lubricated evening. When we met again in
London he was much subdued and a reformed family man. I nearly fell off the
chair when he refused a drink. Tudor became a respected Pathologist in Bristol.
He sadly passed away while doing what he loved best – playing golf. A life well
lived but taken far too soon age 66. May he find the ultimate bliss of Nirvana.
Dr
W. Rajasooriyar: He was a quiet lad who
never stretched the boundaries of the rules of good behaviour and clean living.
We often chatted in the common room, mostly about work.
In 1967 we both
started our Internship in Kurunegala and I had the good fortune to work for 6
months internship in Surgery with Raj. To our delight, he came to live in our
House Officers Quarters as the only teetotaler. He was never
ashamed about his way of life and often joined in our raucous
discussions armed with a glass of water. It was then we all realized although
he was a quiet person was never a pushover and stuck to his principles at all
times. There were times he politely disagreed giving his reason. He
had tremendous patience. Raj showed boundless kindness and generosity during
those difficult times of hard work and sleepless nights. Despite all this he
often stood in for us to be oncall for us to “enjoy”
ourselves. Being the only sober person he felt it was his duty to
look after those who misused the amber nectar. During that year our friendship
grew and I have nothing but praise for Raj. I can still remember our final day
at Kurunegala and the sad goodbyes.
I phoned him when
he worked as a locum Consultant Anaesthetist in the Midlands in the UK. Nothing
seemed to have changed since those days of internship. He spoke softly and
deliberately. There was that familiar calmness and modesty
still evident in his conversation.
The dignity, honesty
and integrity that he showed during his life is a testament to his spirituality.
He will be remembered with great affection and esteem.
May he find Eternal Peace
As we end our
life’s fandango, those glorious and treasured undergraduate years will always
remain “misty watercolour memories, of the way we were”.
“Look not
mournfully into the past, it comes not back again. Wisely improve the present,
it is thine. Go forth to meet the shadowy future without fear and with a manly
heart”.
H.W Longfellow
