An
Incomparable Friend; Dr Carmel Indranie Ernest
Published on
Island on line on 2023/11/26
Indranie
with husband, Cyril and daughters, Cheryl and Melanie
“WHEN
SOMEONE YOU CHERISH BECOMES A MEMORY,
THAT
MEMORY BECOMES A TREASURE” –ANON
The
email from Cyril was short and simple. But the effect was seismic . It hit
Kanthi ( my wife) and me with the might of a sledgehammer blow. Indranie, his
lifelong partner, had passed away after a brief illness.
C
yril
was one of my closest friends, and also my roommate in our final year in
Bloemfontein, the boisterous medical student’s hostel adjoining Carey College.
We got to know Indrani well in that eventful year in Los Angeles where I did an
Echocardiography Fellowship with an outstanding Sri Lanka born cardiologist, Dr
Tony Chandraratne.
Indranie
was born in 1942 in Moratuwa, a town hallowed in history; 1942 was also the
year that the Japanese bombed Colombo and Trincomalee. Moratuwa which escaped
the bombs was the birthplace of heroes who bravely stood up to the British
conquerors, peerless philanthropists and also skilled artisans who fashioned
furniture from local hardwoods; these surpassed the best European fitments.
She
would no doubt have imbued this heritage as well as those of her parents; her
father was an accountant and the mother a dutiful housewife. Indranie was the
second of five siblings and was noted always for her placid temperament,
charming smile and friendliness. She was also deeply religious. However she
also was adept at separating wheat from the chaff; one of her favourite sayings
was ‘all that glitters is not gold’.
At
school she shone academically but was also proficient in sports particularly
netball and athletics. In 1962 she was among the first recruits to the newly
established medical school in the sylvan surroundings of Peradeniya. It was
here that the champion cricketer, Cyril,
bowled over the pretty colleen and embarked on his longest partnership. They
married 53 years ago and could echo Winston Churchill’s words “we lived happily
ever afterwards”.
Both
graduated in 1967, she from Peradeniya and Cyril from Colombo where he had
relocated on account of his many sporting commitments. In 1973 they emigrated
to the USA for further medical training; Cyril qualified as a cardiologist and
Indrani as an Internist . They then moved to Lancaster in California in 1977
where both established outstanding practices . ( Indranie was a popular and
successful physician as many of her former patients would attest. One very
eloquent tribute states “her warm smile, quiet demeanour and even temperament
made everyone who encountered her feel comfortable in her presence”. She
remained a caring and dedicated physician to the end of her days. But the
family was her first concern. Cyril and the two beautiful and accomplished daughters
Cheryl and Melanie were her primacy.
ANNUS
MIRABILIS
I
arrived, unannounced , in Los Angeles in 1988. Cyril somehow got wind of my
coming, and on a Friday evening fronted up in the Howard Johnson Hotel in Boyle
Heights. With few preliminaries, he bundled me into his luxurious Mercedes
sedan and drove onto their elegant mansion in Encino the suburb where Michael
Jackson too lived. Indranie was at the door with a warm welcoming smile which
made me feel at home instantly. A delicious meal followed, the first of many.
It
was my first meeting with Indranie. I had heard about her from our mutual
friend and fellow hosteller Ganesh. Cyril and he traveled to Peradeniya on
their free weekends.
Being
a very private person, Cyril , never breathed a word about his mysterious
sojourns; neither did he say anything about his many sporting accomplishments.
There
were many other visits to Encino at weekends; they would guide me around the
myriad shops in LA, and Indranie in particular helped me to get the household
goods I needed for an unfurnished apartment which I had rented in South
Pasadena, prior to Kanthi’s arrival.
One
weekend they drove me to an orange grove outside the city, where a friend
resided.Indranie graciously let me sit in the front , so I could enjoy the
sweeping vistas and Cyril’s commentary.
Even
after Kanthi came we were regular visitors. Cyril would invite eminent
cardiologists who he felt maybe useful to me; also some colleagues from our
year of 1962 in Medical school. Kanthi being a good cook , we were able to
reciprocate their hospitality.
Their
sincerity and affection was never more evident, as when Kanthi fell ill.
She
had a severe upper abdominal pain; I imagined the worst and visualized removal
of the gallbladder which was a major undertaking in the pre-laparoscopic
surgery era.Indranie being the skilled internist she was, pacified us and
telephoned a pharmacy near us to provide appropriate medications.
Next
day we went over to her rooms where she performed a detailed examination and
got the needed scans. Then we were seen by a surgical colleague who reassured
us that it was an intestinal colic. Our relief was immeasurable. The year ended
on a happy note.
We
had a farewell dinner in our apartment which was graced by Cyril and Indranie.
There were many encounters since. Once both of us were stranded in the Los
Angeles airport as the friend who had promised to pick us, failed to turn up.
We then called Indranie who promptly invited us home. Cyril was away in
Lancaster as he was on call.
Our
last meeting was in the Anantara Peace Haven Resort in Tangalle in Sri Lanka in
2020, just before the Covid pandemic broke out. We along with Cyril , Indranie
and Melanie and others were attending the wedding of Lareef Idroos and Nabila’s
daughter.
All
of us had a grand time with friends and colleagues. Sadly it was also our last
rendezvous..
We
can now only seek solace in Jalaluddin Rumi’s wisdom.
“Do
not grieve. Anything you lose comes around in another form”
And
the deathless verse of Mary Elizabeth Frye
“Do
not stand at my grave and weep,
I’m
not there I do not sleep,
I’m
a thousand winds that blow,
I’m
the diamond glints on snow,
I’m
the sunlight on ripened corn,
I’m
the gentle autumn rain.
When
you awaken in the morning’s hush,
I’m
the swiftly uplifting rush,
Of
the quiet birds in the circled flight,
I’m
the soft stars that shine at night.
Do
not stand at my grave and cry,
I’m
not there. I did not die.
Farewell
our dearest Friend.
May
the good Earth lie softly on you.
May
God hold you always in the Palm of His hand.”
Kumar
Gunawardane
