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

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.

Doctors strikes and their Moral Responsibility- ND Amerasekera

Doctors strikes and their moral responsibility

Dr Nihal D Amerasekera

Industrial action is when workers collectively refuse or reduce their work due to a dispute. It is often organised by a trade union when negotiations have failed. Common forms of industrial action include strikes and picketing. 

The British Medical Association is the doctors' trade union in Britain. Recently, the organisation has marshalled the junior doctors (now called resident doctors) to a series of strikes. This has seriously affected patient care in hospitals and has damaged the esteem and goodwill the patients have for the profession. The long-running dispute of the junior/resident doctors with the government started in March 2023. The BMA argues that resident doctors' pay is 20% lower in real terms than it was in 2008, even after the 2025 increase. There have been 14 strikes since, causing immense disruption to healthcare in the NHS. The government says resident doctors have received the largest pay rises of any public sector employees over the last three years - totalling nearly 30% - and insists the government won't offer any further increases.

The beginning of industrial action goes way back into the 17th century. Then the workers faced appalling working conditions and dangerously long hours. They earned such low wages. There were many accidents in the workplace due to the lack of safety regulations. In Britain, the Trade Union Act of 1871 legalised trade unions, giving workers a legal way to protect and advance their rights. This led to an increase in industrial activity which in turn improved the lives of workers. Workers strikes had the propensity to damage the economy of the country and cause hardship to the public.

The National Health Service was established in 1948 by Aneurin Bevan providing comprehensive medical care free at the point of use, funded through general taxation. An association for doctors was formed in 1832, and it was called the Provincial Medical and Surgical Association. In 1856, this organisation changed its name to the British Medical Association. For many years, as a profession doctors never struck work. The first doctors strike took place in 1975. Firstly, it was the consultants who went on strike to retain the privilege of private practice. Later that same year, the Junior doctors went on strike, wanting payment for their on-call duties. These instances of strikes have been notable for their scale and impact. They represent the largest and the most disruptive action seen in the 75-year-history of the NHS.

The Hippocratic Oath is an oath of medical ethics historically taken by physicians. It pledges to uphold professional standards, to help the sick, do no harm, and maintain patient confidentiality.

The original oath is often revised for modern use. The core principles of the oath still continue to guide the medical profession. The Declaration of Geneva was created by the World Medical Association in 1948.

World Medical Association Declaration of Geneva - 1948

The Physician’s Pledge

AS A MEMBER OF THE MEDICAL PROFESSION:

I SOLEMNLY PLEDGE to dedicate my life to the service of humanity;

THE HEALTH AND WELL-BEING OF MY PATIENT will be my first consideration;

I WILL RESPECT the autonomy and dignity of my patient;

I WILL MAINTAIN the utmost respect for human life;

I WILL NOT PERMIT considerations of age, disease or disability, creed, ethnic origin, gender, nationality, political affiliation, race, sexual orientation, social standing or any other factor to intervene between my duty and my patient;

I WILL RESPECT the secrets that are confided in me, even after the patient has died;

I WILL PRACTISE my profession with conscience and dignity and in accordance with good medical practice;

I WILL FOSTER the honour and noble traditions of the medical profession;

I WILL GIVE to my teachers, colleagues, and students the respect and gratitude that is their due;

I WILL SHARE my medical knowledge for the benefit of the patient and the advancement of healthcare;

I WILL ATTEND TO my own health, well-being, and abilities in order to provide care of the highest standard;

I WILL NOT USE my medical knowledge to violate human rights and civil liberties, even under threat;

I MAKE THESE PROMISES solemnly, freely, and upon my honour.

Wherever I have worked I have seen the dedication of the doctors to patient well-being. They work long and unpredictable hours providing a selfless service. This often involves personal sacrifice. Money is a vital component of modern life. It provides security and stability, social inclusion and a better quality of life. We all want more of it and there are times we all feel that way. It is the responsibility of the government to pay the doctors adequately for the important work they do. The public too has a responsibility to force governments to provide adequate remuneration for the doctors for their work.

The medical profession is more than just a job. We all have an important duty of care to our patients. As doctors, we must not forget the core principles of our profession. The World Medical Association Declaration of Geneva (1948) is a useful reminder to all doctors of their responsibilities.

In the UK, pay review bodies are independent, non-departmental public bodies that advise governments on public sector pay. Their function is to gather evidence from various sources, such as government departments, unions, and employers, to provide independent, evidence-based recommendations on pay and working conditions. This advice helps the government set public sector pay levels that aim to attract, retain, and motivate staff. Governments are not legally bound by the recommendations. These review bodies sit annually to advise governments. Hence, the doctors' pay is reviewed every year and is adjusted when necessary. The British Medical Association has a significant input into the Review Body on Doctors' and Dentists' Remuneration.

Teaching and Higher Education Act 1998 allowed universities to charge tuition fees from students. Currently it is £9250 annually. When the cost of food and lodging is included, it adds an extra £10000. Hence the medical students when they complete their course could have a debt of £100,000. I hope the BMA and the Review Body take this into consideration when doing the pay review. I wish the BMA would do a deal with the government to waive the university tuition fees if medical students sign a contract to work for the government for 5 years after they qualify.

In the UK, doctors provide an excellent service, often beyond the call of duty. It must be said that those in the medical profession are under greater pressure than ever before. Their workload is increasing exponentially, and their work is more closely scrutinised. This adds to the stress in the workplace. We live in a litigious world and legal action against doctors is much more common now. Here, too, we assume that the review body is aware of these issues.

Strikes by doctors lead to the cancellation of appointments and postponement of elective surgery and other procedures. These cause significant delays and distress to patients. Depending on the cover provided by the striking doctors, the emergency and urgent care services will be restricted and there will always be inevitable unacceptable delays. Strikes disrupt the overall efficiency of the NHS, leading to longer waiting times and a higher risk of patient deterioration. Cancer diagnosis and treatment gets delayed. There is also a huge physical and emotional impact on the staff that work during the strike providing cover. The total impact on the NHS is huge.

While many organisations can strike, professions in the armed forces, police, and prison services are legally banned from striking. These are deemed as essential services and strikes by them would seriously disrupt and endanger life. Frontline medical services too are essential and will endanger life if withdrawn. I do not see why doctors are allowed to strike when the other essential services aren’t. 

As a medical professional who has worked in the health service both in Sri Lanka and the UK for 50 years, I feel strongly that doctors should not strike. There are adequate safeguards to keep their pay in line with the rest of the public sector. The British Medical Association should be negotiating with the government about pay and conditions, retaining their respect as a body that is committed to providing a good service to the public. The leader of the Conservative Party has said she would ban doctors from taking industrial action. It is indeed my personal view too that the medical profession provides an essential service and should not be allowed to strike.

My passion for Dancing- Harsha Boralessa

My Passion for Dancing

Harischandra Boralessa

Origins

In our ancestral home in Akuressa, whenever we had dinner parties, there would always be music to entertain our friends and relatives.  My father played the violin; a retired gentleman living with us called “Lansi Mahathmaya” played the piano. The opening pieces were usually La Paloma or Over the Waves (“The Loveliest Night of the Year”) followed by Roll out the Barrel, You are my Sunshine etc. When the baila music started, my father used to ask me, an eight-year-old boy, to dance. My dance was a simple one, solely consisting of jumping up and down on the spot and clapping my hands to the beat. That was my introduction to dancing.

As schoolboys, we did a lot of baila dancing in the college boarding, particularly during the Royal Thomian Cricket Match period, but no ballroom dancing.

During my medical school days, I was very keen on ballroom dancing, and one of my favourite hobbies was listening to Music for Dancing played on a Saturday Night, Radio Ceylon Broadcast. I would imagine that I was on the dance floor. I was able to keep to the time to the Music but did not know many steps. The two dances I was able to do were the Social Foxtrot and the Quick Step – no Cha Cha, Rhumba or Tango. During my undergraduate days, the combination of being shy, having an intense study schedule and having difficulties in finding a dancing partner, restricted the opportunity for social dancing. Looking back, this was a period during which I would have really enjoyed dancing. Maybe I missed a trick or two.

Things changed dramatically after qualifying as a doctor. I metamorphosed: a more confident, better-dressed and smiling personality. Finding a dance partner was not as difficult as before. I remember the late Lucky Weerasoriya at one of our early batch reunions commenting that I had improved and looked quite the man about town. I had the good fortune of finding a partner who was also passionate about dancing. In the late sixties and early seventies, Harshi and I used to go dancing frequently to the Coconut Grove and the Arcasa Kadde.

In England we have been going for tea dances and evening dances regularly – two to three times a week. In so doing, we have been able to expand our repertoire to include all Latin American Dances and the waltz. It is Strictly Come Dancing. Everyone sticks to their wives or partners. Some venues used to do a “bus stop” during the short break:  some ladies, particularly the single ladies, stood in a queue. The men would take it in turns to invite the lady at the top of the queue for a dance. After going round the dance hall once, the man would leave her at the end of the queue and then ask the lady at the top of the queue for a dance. This practice stopped with the onset of the Covid epidemic. Some of the nicest people I have met in the UK have been through dancing. We also go on dancing holidays to Spain and Cyprus. Regular dancing has enabled us to keep our joints supple and to maintain a good posture.  Randomised controlled studies have confirmed that ballroom dancing delays the onset of dementia. So, keep dancing.

The above YouTube video shows Harshi and Harsha performing the Opening Dance at the annual dance hosted by The Past Pupils Association of Visakha UK on the 18th of October 2025 at Crowne Plaza, Beaconsfield, to music provided by Frontline. Click on the white arrow with the red background and the video will play OR, you can watch it on YouTube by clicking on the link given- your choice!

Cliches, Conformity and Curiosity

Cliches, Conformity and Curiosity

Speedy GSK 

Some thoughts on verbal and other experiences as a Medical Student... and after.

Cliché

A Cliché is defined as a phrase or opinion that is overused and betrays a lack of original thought. 

One of the most common clichés we still hear is when a Chairman at a Lecture introduces the lecturer. After a long preamble, he says, “without any further ado, I now invite Dr Shakes Perera to deliver the Prof Vel Knowne Lecture". 

Another one we had to get used to was when the Chairman says - "I like to make some short introductory comments before I request the speaker to deliver his lecture", and goes on and on for the next 15 min displaying his knowledge, completely forgetting (or ignoring) the fact that the audience came to listen to the Lecturer and not him!

Other examples are- “at the end of the day”, “think outside the box”, “pot calling the kettle black”, “be that as it may”, “plenty of fish in the sea”, “as time is limited”, “ a few words of introduction”, and the patient is “a poor historian”, "having said that", "to cut a long story short".

Conformity

Conformity is the act of matching one's attitudes, beliefs, and behaviours to those of a group or society, often driven by social pressure to fit in, a desire to be right, or the adoption of social roles. Conformity is popular because it fulfils fundamental psychological needs for acceptance, social harmony, and accuracy.

Standing out from the group can lead to being ostracised, ridiculed, or punished. Conforming helps avoid these negative consequences, providing a sense of safety and support. I feel that there was an "I am a Medical Student" image that we wanted to fit into.

Ragging was a result of conformity. The desire to crack “kunu jokes”, the type of hairstyles and dress favoured, the adoption of an attitude you do not favour because you want to conform, e.g., call a rural boy “godaya”, join a group of raggers, are all driven by a wsih for conformity 

Curiosity

Why? How? How do you know? What is the evidence? Belief or fact?

Curiosity is the ideal attitude for learning and acquiring knowledge; the attitude that aids in the development of the technique of taking a good history from a patient, and the attitude that facilitates using all available data to arrive at a diagnosis and management plan.

Some of our Teachers were exemplary in this respect. Notable examples - Viswa (O&G), Oliver Pieris, NDW Lionel, Wickrema Wijenaike, Ernie Pieris,  just to name a few.

Current common usage

We often hear words like "absolutely," "you know what", "incredible," "awesome," "cool," and "super" this and "super" that,  and with people starting every new paragraph with a "So..." when talking.

JUST FOR MORE VARIETY "Too Young"- a Nat King Cole song sung by Mahendra "Speedy" Gonsalkorale

JUST FOR MORE VARIETY- "Too Young"- a Nat King Cole song 

sung by Mahendra "Speedy" Gonsalkorale

This is one of my favourite Nat King Cole songs. I used the online Karaoke platform Smule to record it and then produced this video, which I uploaded to YouTube. I hope you enjoy watching and listening to it.

Nathaniel Adams Coles inhabited Planet Earth from March 17, 1919 – February 15, 1965. Popularly known as Nat "King" Cole, he was an American singer, jazz pianist, and actor. I remember admiring his songs as a young doctor in Sri Lanka. It was much later that I reestablished my musical contact with him after hearing such wonderful songs as Unforgettable, Mona Lisa, Autumn Leaves and When I Fall in Love, just to mention a few. Like many black musicians of his era, he met with racism. He had the indignity of being assaulted during a concert on April 10, 1956, in Birmingham, Alabama. Until his death in 1965, Cole was an active and visible participant in the Civil Rights Movement. He was a heavy cigarette smoker and died of lung cancer.

A CHRISTMAS WISH- Speedy

 A CHRISTMAS WISH

Wishing all our friends, colleagues and spouses a very happy Christmas

I hope you enjoy this presentation as much as I did producing it. The powerful lyrics are by my good friend Rasieka Jayatunga, and the music was composed, sung and played on my Yamaha Genos by me. I produced the music and video.

Mahendra Gonsalkorale

December 2024.

Navigating the Bureaucratic Maze- Srianee Dias

Navigating the Bureaucratic Maze Leading to the National Identity Card

Srianee Dias

I received this email from Srianee, and after reading it, I had no hesitation in posting it. I hope readers enjoy it and find it as amusing and entertaining l as I did.

Hi Mahen, I wrote this for its entertainment value, but some people may find it helpful.  Your choice to publish and there is no rush at all. Warm greetings (literally!), Srianee

Now that I have decided to move back to Sri Lanka in the not-too-distant future, I have a checklist to get through.  One of the most challenging items on the list was obtaining a National Identity Card.  This system was not in existence when I left in 1970 and I had not felt the need to get a National ID Card during my short visits in the past. I realised that staying here permanently would be different, so I decided to tackle the task head-on, in spite of the horror stories I had been hearing about bribery, unwieldy crowds and who knows what else? 

The adventure began with a visit to the Grama Niladhari responsible for our area (Kurunduwatte).  My brother Gihan kindly offered to accompany me to the GN’s office.  It was a decrepit, poorly maintained building located on Gothamipura Road, on the edge of the manicured links of the Colombo Golf Club.  The GN had limited office hours, Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays.  At the entrance to the building, there was a deep culvert bridged by a rather unstable concrete slab.  As we stepped over it and entered the waiting area that Tuesday morning, we were relieved to see just two other people waiting.  The GN was a fortyish friendly man who was sitting behind a cluttered desk.  He immediately recognized Gihan because of previous, obviously favourable encounters.  He gave no indication that he was waiting for a ‘bribe,’ and I wasn’t planning to offer one anyway!  He listened to my situation (first time NIC, Dual Citizen) and gave me a list of documents that I needed to gather before proceeding.  He also rummaged through his files and handed me a bunch of forms, that he suggested I fill out.  (Some of them had nothing to do with my objectives). 

The documents I needed included a duplicate of my Dual Citizenship certificate because I only had a photocopy of my original certificate in my possession.  (The original was safely stored with my other important documents in Connecticut.). Since my present surname is not the one on my birth certificate, I had to obtain a copy of my marriage certificate.  I forged ahead on my own this time, paying visits to two separate offices for these documents: the Divisional Secretariat and the Immigration/ Passport offices in Battaramulla.  I was pleased to obtain them with relative ease because everything is digitized now.  Luckily, I remembered the year and month of my marriage!  There were fees to pay, of course, but the people at the various counters (and there were many ) were very pleasant and helpful.  In addition, the GN had asked me to photocopy various pages of my old expired Sri Lankan passport and specific pages of my current US passport.  I couldn’t understand the need for these, but I obediently followed the directions as instructed. 

Once all these documents were collected I returned to the GN’s office accompanied by my brother.  There were a few more people in the waiting area this time.  We struck up a conversation with an older man who appeared to be an assistant to the GN.  He asked If I had a copy of the digital photo.  “What photo?”  I asked because the GN had not said anything about a photo.  The conversation drew in others who were waiting and Gihan got directions from a young man to a studio licensed by the NIC authorities.  Off we went out into the blazing sunshine again.  We drove to an area that was quite unfamiliar to me and Gihan double parked in an alley because parking spaces were non-existent on the street.  He stayed in the car with the AC on, and I headed out along the pavement, looking for a studio that could take this official photo for me.  I passed a couple of photo studios and found the right one after a few inquiries.  I went up a steep staircase to a small studio where a helpful young man obligingly took the photo according to the required specifications.  The photo was digitally transmitted to the NIC authorities and a copy was handed to me. 

We drove back to the GN’s office, where he made sure that every form was properly filled out and then inserted them into a large brown envelope which I had brought along.  After folding and stapling the envelope, he stamped it with his very important rubber stamp.  He then instructed me to take the completed application to the Divisional Secretariat Office (Thimbirigasyaya District) on Elvitigala Mawatha. 

After all this, I needed a few days to recover before moving on to the next step.

The receptionist at the Divisional Secretariat Office instructed me to go to the second floor and hand in the application.  The lifts were jammed, so I took the stairs and found the appropriate counter to hand in the brown envelope.  The young woman there opened the envelope and checked the forms for accuracy.  She corrected the incorrect Sinhala spelling of my name on one of the forms.  (I had followed my brother’s guidance in writing out my name in Sinhala earlier!!).  She folded the envelope again, stapled and stamped it with her own rubber stamp, and then placed the all-important brown envelope in a log book/register, which I had to sign.  She instructed me to take the register to the third floor, get the Grama Niladhari there to counter-sign the register, and then bring it back to her.  I trudged up the stairs again, thinking that perhaps the higher the floor, the more important the bureaucrat.  By this time I felt that I was a character in Shehan Karunatilleke’s ‘Seven Moons of Maali Almeida’ floating from counter to counter in the afterlife! 

On the third floor I found my way to the correct office without difficulty.  I walked into a waiting area, surrounded by several offices, which was much nicer than the one in Kurunduwatte!  There was no sign of the Grama Niladhari, although I could see through the glass walls of the waiting area that there were a few female officers at their desks in some of the other offices.  A group of them were having a leisurely tea break or early lunch break! I waited patiently in the waiting area for about half an hour, although it seemed longer, and then decided  that I needed to be assertive.  I knocked on the door of one of the occupied offices and inquired about the wherabouts of the GN.  I explained that all I needed was for someone to sign the register, so that I could be on my way.  The female officer was sympathetic and found another person who had the authority to sign the log book/register.  (All the while I was thinking, how important is all this?)

Back down the stairs I went, so that I could return the register to the second floor so that some other person could repeat this meaningless dance. 

Armed with my triple-checked, sealed, stamped brown envelope, I ventured back into the late morning sunshine.  I climbed into a tuk-tuk and headed to the Immigration and Emigration Department in Battaramulla.  There were hordes of people waiting for new passports and various other documents.  The Sri Lankan army personnel were handling crowd control, and everything seemed orderly, in spite of the large numbers of people milling around.  I got directions to the office handling NIC applications.  It was on the ninth floor, but thankfully the lifts were not crowded!  An army officer placed my precious brown envelope in a folder marked 178 and directed me to a waiting area. My heart sank when I saw about 200 people calmly waiting in their seats.  But had to keep going, so when I spotted an empty seat, I walked over and sat down.  But soon after I sat down, another army officer came over and asked me in Sinhala, “How old are you?”  Apparently, grey hair has its advantages!  He took me to the front of the room, inquired about my mission, and directed me to the next place I needed to get to.  There were a few more counters to visit, and a few more fees to be paid, but the next few steps were easy. 

I had requested ‘same-day service’ and could have waited several more hours (who knows how many?) to pick up my card that same day. However, I had found out from one of the friendly faces behind a counter that they would hold them until 12:00 noon the following day and then mail any remaining cards. I didn’t cherish the thought of hanging around any longer. 

 I returned the next day, presented my receipt at the correct counter, and finally picked up the National Identity Card!  One more item checked off my list!

Brief Encounter-Nihal D Amerasekera

Brief Encounter – A movie masterpiece

By Dr Nihal D Amerasekera

Sir Noel Coward (1899-1973) was a flamboyant Englishman. He was a playwright, actor, singer and much more. Noel Coward was Knighted for his work.  He became famous for his song "Only mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun". Coward wrote the one act play “Still life” in 1936. This was a turbulent time in the world. King George V had died, and Edward VIII was made king only to abdicate. Germany was preparing for war. WWII shook the world. It ended in 1945 with the loss of 85 million lives and causing immense hardship to many.

The British film director David Lean (1908-1991) made the story of “Still Life” into a romantic drama, calling it the “Brief Encounter”. The film was shot in the final days of WWII. It was premiered in London in 1945. He is no stranger to epic films. Many of his movies had become box office hits like “Dr Zhivago”, “Lawrence of Arabia”, “Bridge on the River Kwai” and “A Passage to India”. David Lean is greatly respected for his mastery of film craft for which he was given an all-time achievement award in 1990. Brief Encounter is often referred to as the best movie romance of all time. It received three nominations at the Academy Awards, Best Director, Best Actress (Celia Johnson), and Best Adapted Screenplay. In 1999, the British Film Institute ranked it as the second-greatest British film of all time.

David Lean chose the leads: Celia Johnson as Laura - a housewife, Trevor Howard as Alec - a doctor. Stanley Holloway plays the naughty station master and Joyce Carey as the bossy, buffet manageress. Marital infidelity with the associated social and emotional upheaval is the subject of the film. Laura and Trevor both married to their partners and with children meet at Milford train station, just by chance. Laura got some grit in her eye and asked for some water at the station buffet when a kindly Dr Alec Harvey, came to help. That’s how it all began. Their affection for each other grew as they met at the station café again and again on several occasions. Meetings were always on a Thursday, she was on her shopping trips and he was there for his work commitments. Once they went to an afternoon performance at the Palladium Cinema.  During these recurrent weekly visits their casual friendship developed into something more emotionally fulfilling than either of them expected. After their breakup, David Lean allows Laura to deliver the anguished narrative, in flashback, when the doctor takes his family to a new life in South Africa. Her desire and longing for Alec only gets more intense. The heartache and despair felt by Laura is brilliantly portrayed. As Laura relates the story her face projects the feelings and emotions perfectly. The chemistry between Laura and Alec is exquisite. Their flawless sense of decorum and style all through film is a tribute to that British dignity and decency of the 1930’s.

The first colour film was made in 1908. It wasn’t until the late 1940’s when colour films became more common. Like most films of the early 1940’s “Brief encounter” was made in B&W. The superb cinematography in the railway station with the focus on low lighting and the loud announcements from the public-address system creates the ideal ambience for the story. B&W makes the images menacingly atmospheric. This also suited the story perfectly depicting a certain poignance, a place faraway and of a time long ago.

The film is etched in nostalgia to an era when public transport was the norm and cars were expensive and few. Steam trains were popular and ran on time. The noise, dust and the puffs of smoke make us remember that era of steam with much affection. The hustle and bustle of a busy train station adds to the urgency of their brief meetings. The camera eavesdrops on their random mundane conversations. The announcements on the public address system of train arrivals and departures conveys the beginnings and the endings of their trysts abruptly adding to the agony and the ecstasy. The emotional rollercoaster of the illicit affair is beautifully portrayed.

There are certain songs and melodies that are inextricably linked to films. They seem to linger in our sub conscious minds forever. Anytime we hear the music our thoughts are directed to parts of the movie. This is so with Lara’s theme in Dr Zhivago, “As time goes by” in Casablanca and eminently true for Brief encounter. The theme music that is played right through the film is Rachmaninov’s piano concerto No.2. This is recognised as an epic work of genius. Rachmaninov (1873- 1943) was a Russian composer and pianist. He composed the score in 1900 when he had recovered from clinical depression. He dedicated his work to his psychotherapist. The second movement creates a cloud of sentimentality ideally suited, in particular, for the important final scene in Brief encounter. After the Revolution he left Russia and settled in New York.

Human history is littered with stories of adultery since the beginning of time. “Thou shalt not commit adultery” remains one of the Biblical Ten Commandments for Christians. Religions, Society and even the current legal systems take a dim view of adultery. There are strong cultural norms too that discourage such behaviour. This film made in those censorious times, family and stability are respected and preserved. The moral of the story has remained consistent since the film was first shown in 1945. However, with the passage of years people are more understanding of how such a situation could occur. Unplanned, inopportune, and inelegant, this is how romance happens in the real world. Marriage vows are sacred, and the union is sacrosanct. We salute Laura and Alec. They both earn our sympathy and respect for their wisdom.

It is important there is a release for marriages that are beyond reconciliation for a multitude of reasons. A further discussion on this subject goes beyond the scope of my remit.

Although there is a loathing for adultery and extramarital affairs, people love to know and hear about it. The media are quick to publish salacious details. With the modern way of life, men and women mix freely at work, home, and social functions. The social media and emails on mobile phones allow secrecy and easier contact. This enhances the opportunities for clandestine relationships providing the climate for gossip and innuendo. Hollywood, Bollywood and film makers around the world make use of this human weakness to create gripping stories that become money spinners for them. It is now hard to find a movie without such steamy and sensuous details.

This film is a timeless classic. Brief Encounter grabs you from start to finish. It’s a great story beautifully told. The movie is a masterclass in cinematography. I have made a conscious effort not to outline the entire story just in case I have enticed a reader to see the film. It is a gentle reminder of what it is like to be in love!! One may even search the past for similar events in one’s own life. I have watched Brief encounter many times and have been genuinely moved each time. It still is one of the most cherished movie experiences I’ve had.