MISSION [IM]POSSIBLE?- Srianee Dias

 MISSION [IM]POSSIBLE?

Srianee Dias

Now that I have more or less completed my move back to Sri Lanka, Mahen and Nihal thought it would be beneficial to the readers of the blog if I shared some of the nitty-gritty details of how I accomplished this somewhat intimidating task. 

The Decision: The most difficult part is making the decision, and I shared in a previous blog post that it took me many years to make up my mind.  It is not an easy decision, and “one size does not fit all!” I’ve been hearing from people who have already moved back, as well others who are seriously considering it.  An underlying theme is that growing old in countries other than Sri Lanka requires paying for expensive care at home, or ending up in a nursing home and getting isolated from family.  This could happen even if one’s children lived nearby.

In my case my daughters had moved far away and my close friends were often dealing with their own health problems.  It was relatively easy for me to make a decision to move back to Sri Lanka where most of my family live. 

Action Plan:  Once the decision is made, one has to plan the action strategy. Willing family members, capable close friends or professionals need to be recruited.  The work involved cannot be tackled alone by octogenarians.

I was lucky that my older daughter, her husband, and a close friend were able to help.  My friend had previous experience helping people “downsize.” 

Choosing a shipping company:  It is important to find a reliable shipping company.  The choice will depend on what you need to ship. Some companies will pack and ship the entire contents of your home.

In my situation I already had a furnished apartment in Colombo and only needed to ship small items and a few pieces of furniture. The small stuff needed to be packed by us.  The company I chose was Srilak Shipping, a Sri Lankan owned company.  They are based in Staten Island, NY. [+1(718)285-0324]. They advised us to use only heavy-duty moving boxes from U-Haul.  We had about 3 shipments of boxes of many sizes.  Each time they came to my home to pick up boxes they charged a flat rate of only $60.00.  I chose their door-to-door service to avoid the hassle of picking up my stuff at their warehouse and having to deal with customs officers.  The door-to-door service is charged based on the number of boxes.  Since I was still in Connecticut when some of the boxes were due to arrive in Colombo, I had to give my brother’s contact information as the consignee.  Their service was exceptional.  I had already arrived in Colombo, however, when the last shipment was delivered and I was able to observe and appreciate their service at the receiving end as well.  They partner with FedEx and it is possible that they are able to service areas outside the greater New York region too. 

Choosing your treasures and packing the boxes:  This is a very challenging task and also a very personal one. 

I decided that I needed my books and my music.  My grandson took over a number of the vinyl records that were in my home. The remaining ones along with all the CDs I had accumulated were shipped.  In order to save space we got rid of the plastic jewel cases that contained the CDs.  The CDs are now in plastic sleeves in something that looks like a gigantic photo album!  (Thanks to my daughter and Amazon!) Sadly, we were unable to recycle those plastic cases, in spite of making many inquiries.  The paintings and photographs on the walls were also shipped, except for the few that I gave away.  Thankfully my apartment in Colombo has high ceilings so there is plenty of wall space to accommodate them.  My daughter also encouraged me to pack some of the trinkets and knickknacks that I had collected over the years. Many were associated with fond memories of people, adventures and travel, although they had very little monetary value. She said “It would feel more like home,” and she was right.

We also managed to pare down the collection of old family photos, some taken by my father in the late 1930s.  We took them out of the bulky albums and found acid free sleeves in which to store them.

My family convinced me to ship my ancient (30-year-old) Klipsch speakers. I’m glad I did, because my “machangs” who helped me find the other stereo components in Sri Lanka said that it would be difficult to get anything of that quality in Colombo.  Interestingly, those were the only items for which I had to pay customs duty. We are still fine tuning the stereo system but it will eventually be completed.

When packing the boxes we numbered the boxes and kept a list of the contents.  We had to list the contents for the shipping company, but more importantly it was very helpful when I began the process of unpacking the boxes. 

Disposal of the excess furniture and other belongings: This is also a very challenging task and requires careful thought.  It is very likely that your children will not want your furniture for a variety of reasons.  They have enough stuff already or live too far away.  Even if you paid a lot of money at the time you purchased your furniture, it is very unlikely that you will be able to sell them at a decent price.  After making inquiries I found that consignment stores and auction houses tend to rip you off.  Most of them require you to pay for them to haul the furniture away, and promise you a percentage of the sales.  But how does one keep track of their sale prices?

My son in law volunteered to post some of the items on FaceBook Marketplace.  The items didn’t sell for much but at least they were taken by people who needed and appreciated them.  Some of the furniture was taken by a friend whose daughter was planning to move into her own apartment.  The remaining items were picked up by local charities.  When I left my cottage and departed for Colombo it was not quite empty.  My friend and my daughter took over the responsibility of emptying it out.  Nothing ended up in a dumpster! 

Finances:

Decisions about handling one’s finances need to be made before moving to Sri Lanka.  Should you transfer most of your cash to Sri Lanka? Probably not a good idea.

I chose to give my older daughter Power of Attorney over all my accounts.  I maintain a joint bank account with her and transfer funds into my Sri Lankan HNB account as needed.  It is an easy process on the App and there is no fee when I transfer dollars to local currency.  It also makes filing taxes in the USA simpler. 

Adjusting to Sri Lanka all over again:

This is a gradual process and it is moving forward slowly. There were many decisions I had to make.

Transportation: Do I buy a car or not?  I had been using Kangaroo Cabs in the past whenever I visited and found out recently that they had something called a ‘Corporate Account.’  I don’t have to carry cash or even a credit card.  All I do when I make the booking is to inform them that it is a corporate account.  Every two weeks an invoice is emailed to me and I make a bank transfer.  I get a 7.5% discount when the cost is above the basic fare.  So far, the drivers have been very courteous and punctual and it definitely beats driving in the crazy Colombo traffic.

Medical Care:  A few years ago I researched the availability of private medical insurance.  Most medical insurance plans do not enroll people over a certain age.  I found that Cigna Global did not have an age cutoff, but could reject someone if they had a pre-existing condition.  I purchased a Cigna Global policy, but it only covers inpatient care.  US Medicare will not cover me in Sri Lanka.

I have been searching for a primary care physician, but I am not crazy about the channeling process in the private sector.  One has to navigate the confusing winding hallways and the multiple floors of the private hospitals, and the process is awkward and cumbersome.  Through neighbors and friends, I found The Vida Clinic, in Havelock Town where I managed to get an appointment and meet a really good doctor.  The clinic also sends doctors on house calls and provides ambulance services.  I need to get more information about the way their system works, but at the moment, this suits me well.

In Sri Lanka, one does not need a doctor to order routine blood work.  I walked up to the Laboratory counter at Asiri Central and got my routine blood work done before I saw the doctor!

I am still awaiting a routine visit to an eye doctor and dentist! (I’ve made the appointments.) 

Sri Lankan Time:

I am still getting adjusted to the fact that some people who promise to show up to work at my apartment (plumbers, electricians etc.) don’t seem to respect my time.  They don’t show up as promised, and don’t bother to call to inform me if a problem arises. I will have to give them pep talks as time goes on! 

As far as other adjustments are concerned, there aren’t too many. I am enjoying the company of the old friends that I meet from time to time.  I’ve also taken advantage of the fact that I live close to the SLMA headquarters, and have so far managed to attend two of their excellent presentations.

A Day at the Royal-Thomian (2025) by Kumar Gunawardane

A Day at the Royal-Thomian (2025)

by Kumar Gunawardane

Published on 2026/03/8. Sunday Island online. (https://island.lk/a-day-at-the-royal-thomian-2025/).

UPDATE ON 12th March 2026: The 147th Royal–Thomian and 175 years of the School by the Sea. Excellent article by Krishantha Prasad Cooray. The link was sent to me by Kumar. Please click on this link to access the article.  https://www.ft.lk/sports/The-147th-RoyalThomian-and-175-years-of-the-School-by-the-Sea/23-789431#

I attended the ‘BIG MATCH’ on March 7, 2025 after an absence of seven years. Sadly I couldn’t go the next day to witness a splendid Thomian victory, last achieved in 2016. I was inconsolable; but my mates comforted me. “Machan (mate), with cricket it’s always come or go Chicago;” that was schoolboy slang for the glorious uncertainties of cricket. “Just have a shot and drown your sorrows,” they said. But memories kept on flooding.

I last saw a Thomian win in 1953 under the captaincy of P.I (Ian)Peiris, a lanky light-skinned youth, a demi-god to us kids. Neville Cardus famously said “we remember not the scores and results in after years, it is the men who remain in our minds, in our imagination.”

Strangely, I remember not only the men but also the scores. We were only 13 runs for four wickets when PIP along with GL( Konnapu) Wijesinghe resurrected our innings with a 187 run partnership. PIP scored 123, GLW’s contribution being 63; a final total of 290. We went on to win the match by an innings.

This revived the myth that Thomians aren’t dead till they are buried. Perhaps on the strength of this single innings PIP went on to play for Ceylon against the visiting Australians. Brian Claessen, a Wesleyite teenage all-rounder also played in the same match.

PIP later won a Cambridge blue in cricket and the same year another Thomian captain, Dan Piachaud, got an Oxford blue. Our Warden R.S. de Saram proudly announced the fact at the regular Wednesday general assembly; his nasal twang exaggerated that day due to his justifiable pride. PIP’s contemporaries at Cambridge included Ted Dexter and Gamini Goonesena. In an unofficial Test against a star-studded West Indies team, PIP partnered with Neil Chanmugam in a last-wicket century stand; his share was 46, but he rated this as one of his best performances.

Many years later, I met him at a Ceylon Wildlife Society meeting. He was very affable and related many Thomian anecdotes. But there was an underlying sadness in his demeanour; he had just lost control of Richard Peiris & Co founded by his father and uncle. Both of them were regular spectators seated on the hard wooden benches at the old pavilion in the Big Club grounds at Mount Lavinia.

This ramshackle building was graced even by Mr D.S. Senanayake, Ceylon’s first prime minister. It was here too that my good friend Vernon stroked DS’s bald patch which went unnoticed. DS being the benign man he was, wouldn’t have taken offence. His son Dudley similarly obliged my friend who asked him for a light for his cigarette.

My first Royal – Thomian was in 1950 at the Oval in Wanathamulla. It felt like being in a strange country, a dry and dusty land. But the playing fields and the wicket were a lush green and the covered stands unique in that era were a welcome refuge from the harsh unrelenting sun. The vendors’ stands selling ice cold Portello and popsicles to accompany mother’s homemade sandwiches drew us repeatedly like magnets.

STC was captained by Roger Inman in the absence of the widely adored and respected Chandra Schaffter; he had a minor ankle injury and had been declared unfit by the coach in spite of CS’s vehement protests. The match ended in a draw.

The next year, 1951, was the centenary of the founding of our school. Even the most perfidious among us prayed devoutly for a Thomian victory. But it ended in disaster.

We were captained once again by Roger Inman and Royal by T Vairavanathan. Royalists batted first and were all out for 146. The skies opened then and play was abandoned.

Next day on a proverbial sticky wicket Thomians bravely declared at 61 for 7; Royalists replied with 105 for 8. The Thomians fought back with their famed grit but lost by five runs. Heads down and faces crumpled, we crawled back to our buses, pictures of misery.

An indelible memory from the Royal Thomians of that era is the melodious song (El Negro Zumbon) from the movie Anna, sung so seductively by Silvana Mangano. This was blared repeatedly over the loud speakers, captivating both young and the old. Years later, I played this back to a pretty Ukrainian nurse who worked with me, also named Anna. When I murmured I dedicate this to you she blushed modestly but radiantly.

The 1954 match was made memorable by two unique individuals. One was my uncle Amitha Abeysekare, journalist, cartoonist , humorist and quintessential jester. His moniker at school was Pissu Abey and he lived up to it in full measure. He made a grand entrance to the Thomian tent with his cohort, puffing a Groucho Marx type cigar and waving a bottle which would have contained the nation’s favourite poison – arrack.

He was also a master of the obscene baila. Even after a biblical lifespan, their hilarity and vulgarity continues to stagger me. Everyone moved aside for the Grandmaster.

A cameraman from the Government Film Unit filmed him in all his glory and it was flashed in their weekly newscast. Unfortunately this was seen by the Warden who gave him six of the best.

Two decades later they met in the Bandarawela bazaar while shopping for vegetables.  Abeysekere went up to him sheepishly and said "Sir, sir, do you remember me?”. “Remember you Abeysekare?” retorted the Cannon, “I have been trying to forget you for the past 20 years.”

The other was my dear friend PN. He and I and another bosom pal shared the last bench in the Upper Four C form ( the seventh standard). His nickname was ‘Veddah’ which he and all brothers inherited from their eldest sibling. It was a term used deprecatingly for forest dwellers and hunters. But PN was in reality a sophisticated and charming friend. On the day of the match, he invited me home for a sumptuous lunch, after which we joined the Old Crocks rally. These were supposed to be vintage cars, but in reality the engines in their last legs were not even roadworthy. I’m not sure what miracle got us to the Oval but we did arrive whole and unscathed.

The era of girls school invasion had not dawned. In any case our old croc may not have lasted the extra mile. My good friend of later years, the elegant and charming Ladies College alumnus Rohini, said that they actually looked forward to the invading hordes and would bring their own rattles to add to the din. At the Oval however they sat demurely, pictures of virtue and innocence but glamorous nevertheless. Our sister College Bishops alumni were in a separate enclosure, no less glamorous.

Once inside PN got onto his ‘black magic’. When the Royalists were batting he would light his magic lamp and mutter incantations. Unbelievably Royalist wickets fell at regular intervals and his back was thumped vigorously. He stopped soon; perhaps he had enough of the back slapping, or in his wisdom wanted to quit while ahead. Regardless, he had achieved cult hero status.

For the 1957 match our legendary teacher LGB Fernando taught us Latin bailas to prove that his class was a cut above the others. However as soon as he was out of range our lot started on the ballad of the randy Burgher boy who seduced the doctor’s daughter, was neutered and made dysfunctional. Intellectual prowess was no match for ribald humour.

1957 too was notable for the first of our classmates playing in the senior team; the late Lareef Idroos played the first of his four Big Matches. How proud were we of him; the diminutive lad who mesmerized the best batsmen with his leg spinners and googlies.

BACK TO 2025

My brother-in-law, Anuruddha, and I arrived in style in his magnificent Mercedes at the pavilion gate No. 2 of the SSC grounds. We were the Warden’s invitees courtesy of another brother-in-law, Nalin Welgama. Having decided to take the small elevator instead of the stairs, what happened next was serendipitous in the fullest sense of the word. Another gentleman who was already in smiled at me.

I introduced myself as Kumar G, old Thomian. “Oh my God , I’m Nihal Seneviratne whom you spoke to last week.” He turned to Anu and said “my father, Dr Robert Seneviratne, delivered Kumar at the Elpitiya hospital.”

Nihal was the very distinguished retired Secretary General of Parliament. We were related but strangers. I had called him after reading an article he had written in the Island newspaper about his father with an attached photograph. At last I had seen the doctor who had brought me into this world though just in a picture. We parted shortly afterwards, he to the Royalist enclave and we to the Thomian wing.

We got good seats with uninterrupted panoramic views of the play. A pleasant young girl was just a couple of seats away. Perhaps an expatriate Burgher or a richly tanned Caucasian. I asked her whether she liked cricket; yes she nodded. “Do you know George Bernard Shaw said that cricket was a game played by 11 and watched by 11,000 bigger fools?” ‘Wasn’t he Irish?’ she asked. Obviously a sophisticated colleen.

Our luck continued. A schoolmate and cricketing colleague, Ashley de Vos, joined us. He was of course the distinguished architect and archaeologist. We were classmates, played in the under 16 cricket team together and lived not far apart in Hill Street, Dehiwala. With our animated conversation cricket had to take second place. There was so much else to talk about.

His knowledge of ancient Sinhala history was encyclopedic and his admiration for the achievements of the Kings and also the ordinary people was unbounded. I reminded him of our trip to Anuradhapura; he was a consultant then to the Cultural Triangle project which was restoring the glory of our ancient capital cities. His interest in ancient history was stimulated by our venerable Sinhala teacher Arisen Ahubudu.

Ashley laughed heartily when I reminded him of his partiality to Kimbula Bunis. Of course the chat had to allude to our juvenile adventures at the school by the sea. Our conversation did touch on the trivia of our youth. He recalled our infrequent visits to the Aleric’s ice cream outlet near our school ogling the young receptionist. Anu piped in saying Aleric Wimalaratne the founder of Alerics was his father and the young girl was his aunt!

Most of us could afford either ice cream or jelly, not both. But some of our friends from affluent backgrounds did have both although they never flaunted their riches.

The cricket whenever we watched was of a high standard. The batting was classical and the pacemen fast and accurate. The only misgiving was their long run-ups. My mind’s eye went back to Frank ( Typhoon) Tyson the English speed merchant of the 1950s, who according to Richie Benaud was the fastest bowler he had ever seen. He started off with a very long run up but little success. With a shortened approach on the advice of his captain Len Hutton he ran through the Australian team again and again.

There were many little reminders of those glory days. Prefects trying to palm off match souvenirs, only the bravest confronting teenage girls; no such compunction with us grey-haired geriatrics: little boys selling flags and the ubiquitous vendors attempting to get rid of impractical headgear. Tireless boys running out to the park at the fall of each wicket and regular parades along the boundary line with ludicrously large banners. All these may have been ridiculous but in some ways at least, to some of us sublime too.

The lunch break came too soon. Ashley adjourned to the Mustangs tent; we went to the SSC restaurant downstairs. It was better than expected, spacious with the tables set wide apart. The service was prompt , the food delicious but pricey. We ordered three Lion lagers and fish and chips. The fish was ‘ Modha’ (Barramundi in Australia), accompanied by a white sauce and a small helping of salad. The chips were firm and dry and ample.

Anu went to bring ice creams and I noticed a young employee nearby with a brush and pan to sweep the rubbish – a pleasant girl with a timid smile in a clean uniform which accentuated her slender figure. She looked more elegant than many of the overdressed over-sized girls who paraded past us. I felt guilty having squandered on one meal a sum which could have been her weekly pay.

Involuntarily, I asked whether she had had lunch. “Yes.” “What did you have?” Rice and curry”. Feeling penitent, my hand went to the wallet for a tip. But wiser counsel prevailed as my gesture may have been misinterpreted by the management and onlookers. It would have been acceptable had my wife been there. The ice cream somehow did not taste as delicious as it should have.

On returning to our seats, we talked less and watched more. But soon fatigue and sleep overtook us and we left shortly after the tea interval. Altogether it was a delightful day reliving the heady days of our youth.

 by Kumar Gunawardane

STC Circa 1949-1961