Daydreams on a winter’s day. - Dr Nihal D Amerasekera

Daydreams on a winter’s day

By Dr Nihal D Amerasekera

"Carpe diem, memor praeteritorum" 

"Seize the day, but remember the past".  -  The Roman poet Horace

At this time of my life, nothing inspires me more than the calmness of classical music. Winter Daydreams is an atmospheric piece of music composed by the Russian composer Tchaikovsky. In his music he paints brilliantly his mind at the time with storms, meditation and ceremonial splendour.  There is classical music for every mood and occasion. I have always been mesmerised by the crimson glow of the sunsets that I have witnessed around the world. The combination of the sun, the clouds and their reflection on the water gives the sunset such a magical status. The dreamy and melancholic music composed by Massenet in Meditation from Thaïs and Chopin’s enchanting nocturnes transport me to those pristine sunsets I’ve seen. They do bring peace to my soul.

When my professional tenure ended I moved away from a leafy suburb in Hertfordshire to an apartment in the heart of the big city. I was born with the tropical sun on my face and the rhythms of the seasons remain alien to me.  As the wild winter storms tighten its grip and the snow covers the landscape, I settle readily into the comfort of chintz cushions and the gracious curve of my rocking chair. With each gentle, deliberate sway, I feel an irresistible pull toward the dim and distant past and the happy and uncomplicated present. There is a quiet warmth in leafing through the archives of my mind, a soothing pleasure in memories gently stirred.

When I snuggle up, thoughts and memories of the past, the present and the future seem to swirl in my head. Those childhood memories and the time spent with my parents take pride of place. It has created an Aladdin's cave of wondrous memories.  We spend our formative and impressionable years at school. Those memories of friends, fun and laughter are stored and archived to last a lifetime.

Connecting to the present moment helps me create a little space in my mind to deal with its concerns and controversies. People have long dreamt of an egalitarian society. Despite human existence for thousands of years, all the religions and philosophies of this world have failed to inspire and encourage us to live in peace and share our wealth. There is a high level of economic inequality in the world which is shocking and obscene, and it is getting worse.

Politics is the bane of society, but we need politicians. The origins of the art and science of governance is not clear. But sleaze, corruption and criminality in politics is old as the hills.  Extreme power and control over people corrupt and destroy societies and lives. But we never seem to learn from history. As I look around there is not a single country in the world where politics is clean as intended. In the West, there is unacceptable political corruption, but it lies below the surface and far less conspicuous. In some countries bribery, deceit and deception are accepted as the norm. This causes tremendous hardship to the people.

We humans have caused global warming. Glaciers are melting, sea levels are rising, forests and wildlife are dying. There is a sense of foreboding of an impending apocalypse. Humanity is undergoing an existential crisis. As we defer, delay and prevaricate, time is running out. The tropical cyclone Ditwah made landfall on Sri Lanka leaving a major humanitarian crisis in its wake. This is blamed on global warming. I do wish more is done to prevent further catastrophes.

The past never truly goes away. Still, my yesterday’s walk with me. My life changed forever as I entered the faculty of medicine in 1962. Much of it remains a haze but there are a few memories that still live on. It’s been said before; ours was the golden age of medical education in Sri Lanka. I feel greatly privileged to have been taught by some remarkable teachers. I still consider our professors, lecturers and clinical tutors as some of the best in the world. I marvel at their clinical skills and recoil at their egotistical arrogance. We soon learnt to survive in that air of toxicity. We tread cautiously and endured the arrogance and conceit in silence in the hope of better times. Surprisingly, I don’t feel resentful. The tough life gave us self-reliance, confidence, grit and determination. I am told; the atmosphere and attitudes have evolved significantly to reflect changes in society. I remember our teachers with much affection and gratitude and thank them for their commitment to teaching.

From the comfort of my rocking chair, I often find myself returning to the General Hospital, Colombo, of the 1960s—where I learned my craft. Despite the inevitable progress and regress, I see it as it was all so long ago. Without that burning ambition and the relentless chase for knowledge, the journey back is poignant and nostalgic.  It gives me such joy to walk those long corridors again.  I see the wards as they were and remember my teachers and friends with much affection, many of whom are now with us no more.

My professional journey began with an internship in Kurunegala. This was followed by seven years in the Health Service. It was, in many ways, a rewarding period. But professionally, I was simply adrift with the wind. What I remember mostly of those years is of the simple rural folk of the Wanni, who were my patients. They were so very grateful for the little I could do to help them.

Many of my professional colleagues were encouraged by the famous phrase popularised by the American journalist Horace Greeley,  “Go West young man”. They dispersed far and wide in search of work and opportunity. After much thought and soul searching, I followed the herd and left the country. From then on, there was the Darwinian struggle of survival of the fittest.  Amidst the fierce competition for the plum jobs, there were the many unwanted prejudices to contend with. Despite all that, life was more stable and predictable. There was a new energy and a joyous appreciation of the status quo. Finally, I found that all-important professional pride and satisfaction. With secure employment came marriage and a family. Then caring for my family took precedence. I embraced and adored everything parenthood had to offer. Time passed on swiftly and relentlessly. 

The sands of time have moved on.  I have progressed from youth to middle age and way beyond. Retirement has given me time to think about life, its highs, lows, and its vagaries. The idealism of my early years is now long gone.  The emotional climate has grown calmer. Spending a lifetime in medicine has the drawback of allowing hypochondriacal tendencies to surface.  I need some lotions and portions to tidy up my health.  We all have learnt to deal with these issues effectively. Now is the time to celebrate our achievements and be happy with what we have.

Cricket has cemented my love affair with London. The game has been my passion all my life. Watching cricket at Lords brings me such great joy. While seated in the ‘Home of Cricket’ there are times when my mind wanders across the vast swathes of land and oceans to where I spent my childhood. The enchantment of those cricket matches of my youth still haunts me. The fizz and excitement of school cricket was infectious. Singing and chanting, I have watched the games under the majestic “Mara” trees at Campbell Park.

Leaving the country of my birth has left me with many scars and regrets. Losing much of the rich Sri Lankan culture, music and language is often hard to bear. I am now a stranger to the new generation that has grown up in my absence. So much has happened to our lives since I left Sri Lanka. It is now impossible to match the closeness I once enjoyed with my family and friends back home. Above all not being with my parents at their hour of need still brings me great sadness that is hard to console. I have paid a heavy price for my professional ambitions and achievements.

It was the Roman poet Virgil who wrote, “Tempus fugit” — time flies. Indeed, it does. Despite life’s fleeting tumults, none of us is here forever; our time will come. Now I find myself in the grip of events, many beyond my control. As an octogenarian, my mind is calmer. There is no longer a burning ambition, no desire to chase money or position. I have fulfilled my duty to care for my progeny.

Worry never helps; it only destroys and pulls the mind into darkness. I seek the serenity to accept what I cannot change, the courage to change what I must, and the wisdom to know the difference—so I may remain calm and be at peace.

I look to the future because that's where I'm going to spend the rest of my life. Once I have made the necessary choices for my parting, it is important that I return to my regular routine. There is no purpose in dwelling on death and dying; I will deal with it when it comes. It is true — I will not pass this way again. And so, I must savour the beauty of nature, the birds and the bees, and the company of family and friends. Only then can I truly sing that familiar refrain, “Que sera, sera” — whatever will be, will be.