Scarlet Ribbons for her hair By Dr Nihal D Amerasekera

Scarlet Ribbons for her hair
By Dr Nihal D Amerasekera

On a dank Christmas day in England, as the stiff winter winds howl and the rain splatters the windows, I sit by the warmth of a real fire.  I look back on my life, trying to recreate that atmosphere of the tropical Christmases I enjoyed as a child. My thoughts crossed the vast oceans to reach my childhood home. The thrill and romance of childhood Christmases are steeped in nostalgia. Christmas is a magical time for children the world over. I have many childhood memories of Christmases at our ancestral home in Kegalle, where the Amerasekera clan gathered. Eating, drinking, and merry-making were the norm. For us children, receiving our presents from Santa was the best thing that happened during Christmas. I do recall with such clarity my letters to Santa and those fervent prayers to God that my wish will be granted.

There is a song that is played during this festive season about a girl’s prayer for a beautiful and charming gift. It is a special gift that would make her look prettier and more glamorous. The popular ballad was written in 1949 by Evelyn Danzig with lyrics by Jack Segal.  Reportedly, this is a fictional story, and the music was composed in 15 minutes. The song was first released by Jo Stafford in 1949. I well remember her face from the bubble gum pictures I had all those years ago. Many recorded this song, including Jim Reeves and Roy Orbison. But in Ceylon, it was the Harry Belafonte version that became a smash hit in 1956. The song is a soulful ballad called ‘Scarlet Ribbons’. It is a simple tale of miracle and faith with a happy ending. This indeed plucks at the heartstrings to evoke a strong feeling of love and sympathy. Belafonte’s performance, featuring a simple guitar accompaniment, captures the mood of the moment perfectly. His rendition is critically lauded for its sensitive, tender vocal delivery, showcasing his ability to handle ballads with intimate emotional depth. The song is frequently highlighted for its soothing quality and remains a highly rated, beloved classic in his repertoire.

I peeked in to say good-night

When I heard my child in prayer

"And for me, some scarlet ribbons

Scarlet ribbons for my hair"

All our stores were closed and shuttered

All the streets were dark and bare

In our town, no scarlet ribbons

Scarlet ribbons for her hair

Through the night my heart was aching

Just before the dawn was breaking

In our town, no scarlet ribbons

Scarlet ribbons for her hair

I peeked in and on her bed

In gay profusion lying there

Lovely ribbons, scarlet ribbons

Scarlet ribbons for her hair

If I live to be a hundred

I will never know from where

Came those lovely scarlet ribbons

Scarlet ribbons for her hair

Prayer is a universal phenomenon. It is a practice as old as history itself and spans almost all regions and religions.  Prayer is a method for communicating with the divine, expressing devotion, or seeking help. For some, prayer is making a rapport with God. For others, prayer means cultivating compassion, wisdom, and inner peace. Hence, it becomes a form of meditation and mindfulness.

My father worked for the government. Every 4 years, we had the enormous task of uprooting ourselves and moving to a new location, the so-called “Transfers”. To give my education some stability I started schooling in Nugegoda staying with my grandparents. We lived opposite the Anglican Church of SS Mary and John. Around the corner from us was St John’s School. For me it was an idyllic life. My grandparents loved me so dearly that I could get off with a lot of mischief. It was my weekly routine to attend Sunday school. There we learnt lots of children’s hymns. The teachers were ever so kind and taught us how to pray. They asked us to bring our hands together and be friends with God.  While thanking God we could ask his help and make requests.

When I was 9 years old, I was sent to boarding school. This being a Methodist School Christian worship included prayers every morning at assembly. In the boarding, we had a small Chapel for evening prayers. On the wall behind the lectern was a lovely painting by the German painter Albrecht Dürer of the Praying Hands. There is a poignant story about this painting. I was in the junior dormitory, and it was our nightly ritual to pray kneeling by our bedside before the lights were turned off. I prayed for my parents’ well-being. There were times when I prayed that Wesley beat Royal College at cricket at the next weekend. It was a frivolous request, and sadly, we were comprehensively beaten. Once I had forgotten to memorise a couple of poems for the next day, I prayed the teacher would not turn up to take the class.  I know not if that was the power of prayer, and surely enough, he did not turn up.  As a child, I did find prayer comforting and felt it was so wonderful to have an all-powerful person to guide and help me.

The song is frequently associated with Christmas, but its message of wonder and care is often timeless. Although the old adage suggests every story has a moral, this is not strictly true. Personally, for me, it is a simple story that depicts an amazing childhood moment, a kid’s innocence and the depth of parental love. As an octogenarian, I still pray and get enormous comfort from it. The focus of my prayers is now different from when I was a child. It is now more a form of meditation and mindfulness. Prayer can reduce stress, anxiety, and negative emotions. This indeed makes me feel calm and at peace.

I am deeply grateful for my Christian upbringing. I would like to extend my sincere thanks to my parents, grandparents, and the school for instilling in me the ability to distinguish right from wrong and for guiding me to lead a principled life. I am also profoundly appreciative of what I have learned from Buddhism, which has greatly contributed to my sense of inner peace and understanding of the world. While I have not always lived up to these values, I remain guided by my conscience, which continues to serve as my moral compass in striving to do what is right.

Our ride into the sunset - Dr Nihal D Amerasekera

Our ride into the sunset 

by Dr Nihal D Amerasekera 

“Media vita in morte sumus” - In the midst of life, we are in death. This is the first line of a Gregorian chant circa 1300. This rings true now as it did all those years ago. Presently, we battle through our lives in the midst of numerous perils and pitfalls. For octogenarians like myself, in the autumn of our lives, there are many other risks just around the corner. 

At any age, we all lust for longevity. Although we all will face it someday, our aversion to talk about death is universal. This is partly due to the fear of the unknown and also not wanting to tempt fate. During my childhood, grim legends were abound, and tales were told of death, devils and the darkness of hell. These daunting images continue to colour my thoughts even now. It is true there is little point in talking about death when we are young and healthy. The scene changes irrevocably when we become octogenarians. This is the time to bite the bullet and face reality while still able to enjoy the good life. 

Life expectancy has risen considerably in our lifetime. Perhaps, professionally, we have helped to make this happen. In the United Kingdom, the life expectancy for men is 79 and for Women 82. Living longer has many benefits. It is indeed so wonderful to see our own grandchildren grow-up and perhaps also to see their children too. But there is a price to be paid while the years take their toll on us. The sudden deaths that took away our parents and our grandparents don’t happen anymore. We just live longer. Our bodies continue to wither away as the years pass. A fistful of tablets and an earful of advice keep us going. The joints continue to creak and the backaches as we trundle along. I can feel the gradual decline and the loss of energy as the months' pass. I am not as steady on my feet as I was last year. Gravity is gradually trying to take over when I walk or try to maintain my erect posture for long. These issues that are rather trivial now will only get worse with time. If I live long enough, I will need help with walking, feeding and ablutions. This may be with a carer at home or in an institution. This requires careful thought and judicious planning. 

Life must have an end. A rapid exit is everyone’s dream. Unlike for the previous generations, the end for us may not be swift. Cancers or degenerative nervous diseases like strokes, dementia and Parkinsonism are some of the common ways to exit this world. Departing this life is never pleasant. Then again, we will need help in the way of a carer or be confined to an institution. These issues need careful planning now, when we are compos mentis. Importantly, the family should be consulted. They must be aware of our choices that may have significant financial implications. We must remember it is their pain and burden too. They must have the information to discuss with us the feasibility of our plans. 

To plan ahead, we must make an informed choice. For this, the doctors must provide us with the information with honesty. Thankfully, in the new millennium, the conceit and the patronising pomposity that existed in the medical profession has largely melted away. This has resulted in far better rapport between the doctor and the patient. When confronted with a terminal illness, we need to know the prognosis, the positive and negative implications of treatment and also of having no treatment. It is invaluable to weigh up the implications of a range of alternatives, some of which may be “off the menu”, before making a choice. 

It is wise to leave written instructions as to our care, including treatments we do not want to have. This is legally binding and is called the Advance Decision to Refuse Treatment (A living will). I know some have instructions not to be resuscitated. Some want all treatment stopped, including antibiotics. We can also allow someone else to make the decisions for us when we can’t. This is called the Legal Power of Attorney. Some cancer patients do not want any treatment. They do not wish to prolong life, not wanting the stress and struggle of radiotherapy and chemotherapy and its many unpleasant side effects. It is imperative that the doctor discuss the quality of life on treatment. Many others show great resilience and courage in continuing and completing the treatment schedule and we respect their choice. 

If terminally ill I should have the right to end my life. This issue has come into prominence in the UK in several high-profile cases of Motor Neurone Disease and Multiple Sclerosis that went to the Supreme Court. Adequate safeguards must be built in for this. In the UK, there has been a shift in common morality for euthanasia and assisted suicide, both of which are illegal under English law. Some go to Dignitas in Switzerland, a place for assisted suicide, to end their lives. Ending one’s life is the last resort. The National Health Service provides good palliative care as well as providing psychological, social and spiritual support. 

The answers to the many questions that arise and the solutions to the many problems that surface will vary according to our personal circumstances. It is paramount that the wishes of the patients and their relatives are respected. I am merely raising awareness to a common problem we will all face sooner or later. As I write I know of 90-year-olds, like Queen Elizabeth II and the Duke of Edinburgh, who are still smiling, enjoying life and their families. But they are no doubt in the minority. Some may still have the old fashioned, laid-back and carefree attitude thinking “Que sera sera” Whatever will be will be!! This may just leave our loved ones in the dark about an issue which may be long and protracted and financially draining. 

Making that final journey to exit from this world is something we must all do in the fullness of time. This challenging journey may take from a few days to a few months. Professional medical input is vital during this period to remain free of pain and to receive psychological support. We must leave behind the sadness and regrets of the past, taking with us only those happy and joyful memories. In the lonely waking hours, one may wish to walk with God for comfort and support or focus the mind on meditation and mindfulness. Some receive comfort from the “Mozart effect” of listening to soothing classical music. There is a lot of helpful advice available from professionals, carers and institutions to reach that final destination with dignity. 

As much as there is no holding back the night, there is no hope of a second dawn. I feel we leave this earth never to return again. I seek the wisdom of that great Roman Poet Horace "NON OMNIS MORIAR" (Not all of me will die). Our children and grandchildren are shaped by the genes they inherit from us. They smile and laugh like us and even may think like us at times. They will carry our baton into the future. 

There is never a good time to discuss our end of life and the funeral arrangements. But it must be done. It is only then our loved ones will know what we want. 

As octogenarians, our minds are much calmer now. There is no burning ambition or desire to chase money or position. We have done our caring for our progeny. Once we have made our choices for our parting it is so important we must return to our regular routine. It serves no purpose to dwell on death and dying. We will deal with it when it comes. It is so true we will not pass this way again. So enjoy the beauty of nature, the birds and the bees and the company of family and friends.  It is only then we can sing that famous song “Que sera sera”. 

Here are my best wishes for a happy and peaceful journey's end with poise and dignity.

 

A Book Review by Srianee Dias.

A Book Review by Srianee Dias.

This is going to hurt by Adam Kay 

While browsing through the selection of books available to me on Kindle Unlimited, this intriguing title caught my eye: “This is Going to Hurt” by Adam Kay.  I had never heard of Adam Kay, so on reading the reviews and the blurbs, I found out that the book had been a multimillion-copy best seller, written by a real doctor in the NHS in the UK.  It was described as being “blisteringly funny” by the Boston Globe, and “heartbreaking” by the New Yorker.  It sounded interesting enough for me to download and start reading.

The subheading on the title page says “Secret diaries of a young doctor.”

The format was unusual, because it was based on his real diary entries, and it is a series of anecdotes. Adam Kay records his life as he progresses in OB/GYN from House Officer, multiple posts as Senior House Officer, multiple posts as Registrar  and then finally Senior Registrar. At the beginnig of the chapters he explains the responsibilities each post entails.

Most of the anecdotes end with a funny observation and I found myself laughing out loud!  Really loud!  He describes his relationships with the consultants and his other colleagues.  We can all relate to his nights on call, and the last minute changes in plans with family and friends.  Because he is Jewish, he had to work every Christmas holiday.  He spent many hours in the hospitals which strained his personal relationships.  We don’t hear too much about his personal life, because this, after all, is about the life of a young doctor.

 Some of the stories are quite touching, and it is easy to see that Adam Kay is a sensitive young doctor. He describes how he would visit the special care nursery on his way home if any of the babies he delivered ended up there. He felt the need to check on their progress.

Both his parents are physicians as well as many other relatives. It is possible that he drifted into choosing medicine as a career without too much thought.  During his stint as a Senior Registrar he finally realizes that he is not cut out to be a doctor. 

He is now a screen writer and author.

This book was quite engaging and entertaining. The author uses a fair amount of slang (he attended medical school after all!) as well as many British medical acronyms that were unfamiliar to me.  I feel that this book would appeal mostly to those in the medical field, although there were many appreciative reviews by readers.

I hope that some of the readers of this blog will try to get their hands on a copy of this book or download it.  (It may be difficult to find in Sri Lanka.)

“ADOLESCENCE” - A REVIEW OF A TV SERIES -Srianee Dias

           “ADOLESCENCE” - A REVIEW OF AN EXCEPTIONAL TELEVISION SERIES

                                                  A Cautionary Tale.     By Srianee Dias.

Thanks to Srianee for this brief but most helpful review. If others want to bring a TV or a cinema series like this to our notice, please send them to me. I am sure our readership will love them.- Speedy

 

Several weeks ago, I sat down to watch the first episode of “Adolescence”, which had been recommended by a friend.  It was streaming on Netflix and was not too difficult to locate.  I knew that the subject matter was rather serious, so I had to be in the correct frame of mind to start watching it; a limited series consisting of 4 episodes.

The story is about a young boy who is accused of murdering a classmate.  It is not a “Whodunit” but more of a “Whydunit” as described in a review I read.  Once the first episode was over, I couldn’t stop.  I kept on going, watching all four episodes.  Luckily, I had started my ‘binge watching’ fairly early in the evening.

The story is heartbreakingly simple. 

The family consists of hardworking, normal parents, two teenagers, a daughter, and a son, Jamie.  Like most dads, the father tries to get the young boy involved in sports and other “masculine” activities, but the son prefers drawing and other artistic activities.  When Jamie was spending a lot of time on his computer alone in his room, the parents were not too concerned.  After all, that’s what teenagers do.  Their world turned upside down, however, when the police arrived one day and arrested the boy.  The police had indisputable evidence.

The story continues in the next three episodes, focusing on the questions arising from this event.  What pushed a young, normal boy to commit such a heinous crime?  How does a family cope with such a tragedy?  The creators/writers purposely presented the story from the perpetrator’s perspective, probing into his motives and reasons. 

I don’t want to divulge too many details of the story.  The acting is phenomenal and grips us with the intensity of their emotions. The director uses unusual camera techniques, such as a single take for each episode, which makes everything more real. It is a British production and it is generating a lot of discussion, on the BBC, in the newspapers, and among the general public. I believe the British Prime Minister suggested that it be shown in every middle school. 

I believe it is not the teenage population that needs to see it, but parents who are out of touch with what goes on in their kids’ lives.  We would like to believe our children and grandchildren are safe when they are home in their bedrooms, but are they, really?  There are predators and influencers cruising on the internet who mess with their young, still-developing brains and feed them all kinds of corrupting and harmful ideas.  Their own classmates sometimes gang up on them and bully them. In the show, there is a critical, interesting exchange between the police officer leading the investigation and his young son, where the son explains to his father the meanings of certain emojis and coded words that young people use.  I was certainly unaware of those phrases and terms, most of them derogatory.  (I suggest looking up “Glossary of Gen Z slang” on Wikipedia.)  One of the terms referred to in “Adolescence” is “Incel” which means “involuntary celibate.” 

Many of the readers of the blog are grandparents now, and I hope you will take the time to watch this series. All of us have to think of ways in which we can protect our children from these dangers lurking on the internet.  It is very common in the US for kids to bring their cell phones into the classrooms, and there is much discussion now on how that can be addressed.  I heard today that the UK is considering banning cell phones from classrooms.  Teachers in the US are finding it very difficult to teach distracted students.  My friends and family who have dealt with teaching young children in the US say that even second-grade kids come to school with cell phones.  The problem may be peer pressure and overindulgent parents.  I was amused when someone on BBC News said that parents need to tell their children, “I am not your friend; I am your parent!”  That was a line that I used frequently when my daughters were growing up!  I had no problem saying “No” to them now and then when it was appropriate. They were well aware of the lines they were not allowed to cross while they were in my care.

"To Blog or not to Blog"- by "Speedy" Mahendra Gonsalkorale

 "To Blog or not to Blog"- by Speedy

Keeping in touch- "To Blog or not to Blog, that is the question"

Mahendra "Speedy" Gonsalkorale

A version of this was posted in January 2016, and I felt it might be helpful to revisit it. Come on, my friends, release those thoughts lurking in the background and share them with us!

The Blog was born in 2011, that is 14 years ago! The proud Father was the late Lucky.

I have been wondering for some time why our Blog is not as popular as I was hoping it would be. If we consider how interactive it is, by looking at numbers who comment, then we do fall short by quite a margin. The total number of persons who have commented is below 20 and of these there are now less than 8 very active people.

The questions I am posing are these. 

• Why is the comment rate low? 
• How can we get more people involved? 
• How many of our Batch colleagues actually use it? 
• Does the Blog serve a purpose? Is the time and effort made by Lucky so unselfishly, worth it?
• Is it worth resending a questionnaire by email to get the answers? 

We did one in 2020. There were 30 responses from 74 sent out, a rate of 40.5%, which was bigger than I expected with only 3 in Category (a) Hardly ever visited the Blog. - I posted the findings in the Blog and here is the Link:- https://colombomedgrads1962.blogspot.com/2020/11/speedygroup-interview-about-our-blog.html#comment-form ).  

Or is this a wider issue about how school friends or University friends keep in touch? We have moved in different directions and we have built up new friendships and we may feel a need to move on putting our past behind us, especially if that part of our past is something we want to forget. We have formed groupings within us based on where we live and our own interests. Our circles have widened and those who we consider worth keeping in touch, we still do but the criterion has to be much wider than “he/she was my batch colleague”. The bonds that we had then have to be very strong for them to survive the ravages of time. We are pleasant when we see each other, but life has taken us in different directions, and we have moved on. We may not feel the need to rekindle the relationship.

Then, there is the question of priorities. There is never enough time to do what we wish to do, and looking at the Blog may not be a priority. 

Like a good restaurant, if we enjoy the experience, we will come back!

There are other possible factors such as familiarity with computers and the Internet. I still have friends who get their children to set up their TV, check their email!

How much a person uses anything depends a lot on how useful (enjoyable) it is to that person. The Blog may be an avenue to display our talents (music/poetry with me  and writing/painting with ND and  painting with Chira). It may be a pleasant way to spend time reminiscing. It may rekindle old friendships. It gives us an opportunity to rejoice at the success of colleagues (e.g. Lama), it may be a medium to recall with pleasure a time we were together at a critical phase of our life, it can be a way to show our appreciation to our Teachers, it could be a medium to enlist help for a good cause connected with our Medical Faculty. It has also reminded us of our mortality with the growing number of obituary notices.

I have posed many questions and indicated why the Blog still has much to offer. I am a firm believer in putting the past behind and moving on. There is no time like the present moment but the present moment could be enriched by learning from the past; but avoid dwelling in the past pondering on the “what might have been”. That kind of reflection, the “what might have been”, is pointless, corrosive, and a recipe for discontent.

But to me, what is important in the final analysis is not how frequently we keep in touch but the ability to pick up and continue from where we left. I felt that very much at the last Batch Reunion when I met colleagues after so many years.

So come on my friends, pull out your fingers and start typing on your keyboards either as a comment, or as an email to one of us. As for me, I enjoy reading the Blog and contributing to it and shall continue to do so. 

Please send anything you like to post, to me by email if you are uncomfortable about writing a new post, send me a draft and  I am only too happy to edit and publish it, or publish it as it is if that is your wish.

In conclusion, I am proud of our Batch, a Batch of achievers and an example to emulate.

The Carnival of Venice. Nihal D Amerasekera

The Carnival of Venice

By Dr Nihal D Amerasekera

I was just a child in 1952 when my father was transferred to Gampaha. Formerly called Henarathgoda, it is a town made up by the merging of five villages. When Sir Edward Barnes, a British Governor, paid a visit to the area in 1825, it was a dense forest.  He decided to construct a railway through the area and to have a station at Henarathgoda. This effectively ignited great interest in the area.

In the 1950’s Gampaha was still a small town and amazingly peaceful. It could not boast of lush green mountains or a deep blue sea, but the air was clean and the people were friendly. It was a place of beauty, loveliness and enchantment. Its claim to fame was the Botanical Gardens where Ceylon’s first rubber tree was planted.

As the British left us in 1948, we were free to rule ourselves. I was then far too young to appreciate the vast political and social changes taking place around me. I was happily oblivious to these enormous changes but as I grew up, learnt to accept them like the rest of my countrymen. The crucial goal of uniting Sri Lanka's people was overshadowed by the melee of parliamentary politics. It is easier to be scornful of the past than of the present. With the introduction of free education and healthcare, lives changed for the better for the many.

We then lived in a splendid old house on Colombo Road, Gampaha opposite the Government Hospital. It was the ancestral home of Cyril Goonetilleke, a property tycoon, entrepreneur and socialite who had inherited tremendous wealth. The house had water on tap and flushing toilets, then a luxury anywhere outside the metropolis. Cyril was away in London studying for his law degree. He left the front room of the house for himself loaded with his paraphernalia. Being a teenager, I was curious. I surreptitiously crept into his room to explore its treasures. There was a bed, a desk and several old cupboards full of clothes and books. They were covered in layers of dust. On the floor was a His Masters Voice (HMV) winding-up gramophone. Next to it was a dust-ridden stack of 78 RPM vinyl records. Most of it didn’t appeal to me. I loved the “Carnival of Venice” and played it repeatedly. The hiss and crackle of worn-out needles was never a deterrent. This was a superb rendition beautifully played on the trumpet by Harry James who was a famous trumpeter of the 1940s. He was so well known for his virtuosity and lovely melodic style. This melody simply stuck to my memory.  I was delighted to hear it when played on the airwaves of Radio Ceylon.

The song "Carnival of Venice" is based on a Neapolitan folk song called "O Mamma, Mamma Cara". This was composed by Niccolò Paganini an Italian composer and violinist (1782 – 1840).  The music with a fast tempo was written for the solo coronet. He composed the Carnival of Venice circa 1829. As his fame grew, he indulged in excessive gambling and numerous romantic affairs. This took its toll and he had to pawn his violin to pay his debts. Despite his troubles Paganini’s music thrived and he became a director of music. His compositions and playing technique experienced great success in his appearances in Vienna, Paris and London. Sadly, Paganini’s life was blighted by the social consequences of his gambling habit which returned to trouble him until the end of his life.

During my teenage years, music had a very special appeal. 1955 saw the emergence of Rock 'N Roll music. Bill Haley succeeded in creating a music that appealed to youth because of its exciting backbeat, its urgent call to dance, and the action of its lyrics. The booming base and the twang of electric guitars produced a foot-tapping sound. Then the music of Elvis Presley and Cliff Richard and the Shadows was all-consuming to us teenagers. The music fashions changed constantly. In the 1960’s the music of the Beatles, Rolling Stones and others became popular. Although I enjoyed the new music my love for the “Carnival of Venice” never waned.

Indeed, time does fly. The years passed swiftly and relentlessly. The ebb and flow of my fortunes brought happiness and despair in equal measure. I had stepped on the treadmill to carve myself a career and raise a family. I finally settled in a leafy suburb in Hertfordshire 50 miles north of London. When our sons started to play musical instruments, I rekindled my love for the “Carnival of Venice”. They too loved the piece and played it often. I now could listen to the various versions of it played by different orchestras. The Mills brothers sang it in 1951 and I remember this being popular in Ceylon. The song, "How Much Is that Doggie in the Window?" is based on this tune and was a hit in 1952. Many artistes used the tune and made hits including Hank Snow and Danny Kaye. Most notable of those variations have been by the composer Joseph Jean-Baptiste Arban (1825–1889) who arranged the music for the cornet or trumpet. The one I listened most often is played on the clarinet by Duncan Prescott. This was simply the best for his sheer artistry and the control of his clarinet. The Harry James version still brings back nostalgic memories of Gampaha. Wynton Marsalis is an American classical trumpeter who plays it brilliantly with a modern style.

Meanwhile, the river of life has run on and youth passed into middle age. When I ended my professional career, it gave me the time to delve into the history of this magical piece of music. Venice is situated in the Veneto Region of Northeast Italy and spread over 118 small islands. It is considered as an architectural masterpiece. This city on water connects the many islands with over 400 bridges. Venice has had a tremendous influence on world architecture and monumental arts. Visitors arriving here is transported to a world of marbled palaces, bell towers, domes and gondolas. St. Mark's Basilica and its square has stood proudly at the heart of Venetian life for centuries.

The Venice Carnival is one of the oldest annual festivals in the world and dates back to 1162 AD. Legend has it, this was to celebrate a military victory over its enemy. But subsequently, the carnival became directly related to the Christian period of Lent. The word “carnival “is derived from the Latin word “Carne Vale” meaning “farewell to meat” to celebrate the Christian period of Lent when abstinence from meat is practiced for 40 days. The Venice Carnival takes place each year in February in St Mark’s Square in Venice. During the Carnival people paraded on the streets of Venice wearing colourful masks. This allowed them to protect their identity and remove any social differences. Unfortunately, when Venice came under the rule of Francis II in 1798 the Carnival was outlawed and almost completely disappeared for nearly two centuries. The carnival was revived in 1979 with its distinctive traditions and celebrations making Venice as one the best Carnival destinations for tourists from all over the world. This indeed rejuvenated Venice’s culture, heritage and economy. Every Spring people from across the world visit this floating city and take part in this unique celebration. The carnival is such a joyful event. It displays a riot of colour, magical music and an unforgettable spectacle. Colourful costumes, elaborate masks and fascinating historical re-enactments make this 2-week party an impressive experience.

The human memory is a miracle of nature. Like a time traveller, I have turned back the clock 7 decades.  I never returned to Gampaha town or the house ever again. The house was later bought by a doctor who razed it to the ground and built a 2-storey Surgery for his practice.

The “Carnival of Venice” still brings back many memories of my parents and friends who shared my life in Gampaha. It was a time of peace and contentment in my life. These nostalgic memories distil the spirit of an era now long gone. I dedicate these notes to my parents for their infinite love which sadly I could never fully reciprocate.

The Sad Tale of UkiRani and Ruso (contd)...Act II

The Sad Tale of UkiRani and Ruso (contd)... Mahendra Gonsalkorale

Act II

Setting: Ruso and Youeseh sat in Ruso’s lavish apartment enjoying a Vodka.

Ruso: It is good of you to come and meet me Youeseh or shall I use your pet name Chump?

Youeseh: Good to see you too Ruso, nice, really nice and you can call me Chump if it is easier. You are a good man Ruso, a really nice man and I like you.

Ruso: You know of course that UkiRani did not listen to me and refused not to invite Nato. I warned her of the consequences and sadly, my intervention in her country led to a lot of unnecessary grief and destruction. But you know me, what had to be done had to be done and those who died… well sometimes we have to look at the greater good and what greater good can there be than provide staunch support for a fearless brave man like me, easily the greatest Russian in history. I would have said that earlier but modesty stopped me. I don’t mind saying this to the greatest American President!

Ruso stands up to make this modest statement and sits down, looking quite pleased.

Chump: You are kind, very kind. I know I know. It shouldn’t have happened. It would not have happened if I was in charge but sadly, that chump Byedan was there and he was useless, pretty useless. It shouldn’t have happened and I am sorry you had to call their bluff. You are a great man, just like me, destined to make the World a better place, for you and me.

Ruso: I had no option Chump. UkiRani and her team are far too close to my border and I had to show her who is boss.

Chump: I know, I know. It should never have happened. It should never have happened. All those millions who died. Real shame, real shame, it should not have happened.

Ruso: What is your advice to me now my valued and strong friend Chump? How can I get out of this mess?

Chump leans forward in his chair, with his long blue tie falling between his parted legs. He points and wags a finger while twisting his neck and face, his lips pouting.

Chump: Listen to me Ruso. If this goes on there will be no winners, only losers and I am not going to waste my dollars helping this to go on. UkiRani knows this and is worried about it. You might say, what about Urope and his friends? Let me tell you, Urope and friends are disorganised and in deep shit (pardon the expression) with their finances. Some may shout about continued support for UkiRani, like that useless weakling Stammer from the UK who should really keep out of this; he has enough problems in his own country. But they know you are strong and cannot be defeated. You have always been strong, so strong Ruso, a man after my own heart, a man who believes that law and order must be observed,  so long as it helps you, and who does what he wants and states boldly, very boldly, to these bureaucrats who interfere with progress, your progress, they will be fired and make no mistake!

Ruso glows with pride and tries to comb his hair forgetting for a moment, he has no hair.

Ruso: Thank you my friend. If UkiRani knows that she cannot rely on your support, I am sure she will agree to my terms, which I shall state in such a way that she does not feel like a loser, although in fact she is one, as you well know.

Chump: You got it right Ruso. UKiRani will have no option but to agree to a Peace agreement where she will need to concede some territory but have the satisfaction that the war will end. But I have one very potential big problem Ruso. Will she accept not to accept the protection of Nato? If she digs her heels and insist that Nato should be given the right to protect her, what should I do? What is your advice Ruso?

To be continued….

The Sad Tale of UkiRani and Ruso. Mahendra "Speedy" Gonsalkorale

The Sad Tale of UkiRani and Ruso

Mahendra Gonsalkorale. 17^th February 2025

 Act 1

Setting: Living room in UkiRani’s house in Europe. UkiRani is seated on a sofa knitting.

Enter Ruso, looking very agitated: he bows to UkiRani and addresses her.

Ruso: Hello, my lovely UkiRani. I have come to see you on a matter of the greatest importance. This is not just a simple neighbourly call.

UkiRani: Why, Hello, Ruso! And what is this all about? Pray be seated.

Ruso sits down as requested. Looks uncomfortable and avoids the gaze of UkiRani.

Ruso: This is a rather delicate matter and I crave your indulgence and patient understanding.

UkiRani: You got me all of a flutter now, Ruso; pray, what is it?

Ruso: Rumour has it that you are getting very close to my enemy Nato and are considering allowing him to protect you. Nato, as you well know, is not the sort of person I would like a kind and beautiful soul like you to keep company with.

UkiRani: Oh! Come on Ruso! Nato is not really my friend but who can refuse a kind offer like his to protect me!

Ruso: But Nato is devious, and I hate to say this as I don’t want to upset a kind soul and indeed a close neighbour like you with whom I have had such a long association, but…

UkiRani: Yes Ruso, but…what?

Ruso: It is fair that you should be warned. Let me say again, as I have said many times, that I love you and would never do anything to harm you, but even such strong love as mine has limits. I hope you understand.

UkiRani gets up and looks directly at Ruso with a stern but sympathetic expression.

UkiRani: My dearest Ruso, as much as I care for you, I would not like you to tell me who I should like or dislike. I am an independent soul perfectly capable of managing my own affairs. I hope you understand that.

Ruso looks tormented as he walks to the open window, stares out, and returns to address UkiRani as she gazes at him anxiously.

Ruso: My dearest UkiRani, this is not easy to put across to you, but put it across, I must. If you insist on having ties with Nato, you will be responsible for the consequences. I beg of you to listen to me and ignore what that other “friend” of yours-Ha! Friend indeed!- is telling you and keep away from Nato. This other person, Youeseh, is dangerous and wants to spread his influence all over the World. I beg of you not to take advice from that scoundrel and listen to me, me who has such long ties with you and me, who shall never harm you…unless you leave me no alternative, and that will be so sad.

UkiRani returns to her sofa, quite distressed and after a short period of silence, addresses Ruso.

UkiRani: That was quite a speech young Ruso! However, I have to Put you in your place. My friendship with Nato is not intended to harm you Ruso, or any of my neighbours. We have far too much in common and much to lose.

Ruso, red-faced and angry, looks directly at UkiRani

Ruso: That is good to hear, but I am deeply saddened if you insist on letting in Nato and value the advice of Youeseh, that megalomaniac scoundrel, much more than mine. In which case, I have no alternative but to take action to protect my country, and that will be a sad day for all of us.

Ruso turns around and storms out of the room.UkiRani is speechless and stares at him close to tears as he leaves in a huff.

UkiRani:  I know him only too well. He will never invade my territory as he knows quite well that it will cause such unspeakable agony.

Postscript: Ruso could not accept UkiRani’s friendship with Nato, and “all hell erupted”.

The End

Act 2 to follow

My wish and Hope for Sri Lanka. Mahendra Gonsalkorale

My wish and hope for Sri Lanka

Mahendra Gonsalkorale

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You wanted change
You needed change
You demanded change
You have this change

Fed up with dishonesty and greed
Fed up with nepotism and corruption
Fed up with lies and deception
Fed up with bullying and chauvinism

You now have your chance
Your new rulers can only succeed
If you change too
it is a two-way street

Temper your expectations
Change takes time, be patient
Embrace a New Culture
One Nation, One Country
With a proud multicultural heritage
Believe in Humanity and universal love
Cast aside Divisions and unite as one family

Virginia de Vos (nee Swan) has published a book

Virginia de Vos (nee Swan) has published a book.

I was delighted to receive the news from Srianee (Bunter) and Rohini Ana that our batchmate Virginia, who emigrated to Melbourne, Australia, has published a book, the details of which are below. I have not communicated directly with her, and I am unaware of any other literary achievements she has made. Well done, Virginia, I hope we will see more books from you.

This is what she sent Srianee.

I’m happy to inform my friends that I have just released a shortish novel on Amazon.  Titled  Crime and Terror in the Jungle. The print version is now available & the e-pub comes out next week. It is set in SL and Gippsland, Victoria, Australia. If anyone is not registered on Amazon I’m told it is easy to do by googling amazon.com.au in Aus & amazon .co.uk   & amazon.com  in other countries. & follow the prompts. The prices are in US dollars.

Thank you
Love & Best regards
Virginia

Here is the link to Amazon. It costs US$15.99, and the Kindle edition $5.99
https://www.amazon.com/Crime-Terror-Jungle-Virginia-Vos/dp/1763516008

Crime And Terror In The Jungle Paperback – June 16, 2024

by Virginia de Vos 

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Years ago poachers stole his baby elephant. Now he's looking for justice.

Digby Trott has a deep-seated hatred of poachers. When he was a child visiting his grandparents on their tea estate in Sri Lanka, he was cared for a baby elephant. Until one day poachers stole it.

Years later he took up a position to lead a team of conservationists into the jungles of Sri Lanka to apprehend poachers killing elephants. In one game park he was attacked along with his team, causing brain trauma and a changed personality.

Now mentally and physically damaged, he needs help from his doctors, family, friends and loyal girlfriend, with her own demons to overcome. Advised to return to scene of his injury, he finds himself once again in danger. only surviving in the nick of time. The trauma provides him with the path he needs to recover. And finally he can set his sights on the poachers and masterminds.

Crime and Terror in the Jungle is a tale of survival in an exotic land, with descriptive skyscapes, and culture shocks vividly described. Buy your copy today.

Art and the Artist- Srianee Dias

Art and the Artist

By Srianee “Bunter” Dias (nee Fernando)

- "Should we not separate the creative work from the personal lives of the creators and appreciate the works for their artistic value”- 

While reading The New Yorker magazine online recently, I came across this article entitled “The Second Death of Pablo Neruda.”  It sparked my interest because Kumar G. and others had written about him previously on our Blog. Neruda was a Chilean poet who led a colourful life, and was a supporter of the socialist President Salvador Allende, who was overthrown by Augusto Pinochet in a coup in 1973. For generations, Neruda’s prestige in literature was unquestioned, but now it appears that his life, his work, and even his death are under scrutiny. 

He first published his poetry using the pen name “Pablo Neruda” when he was just 19 years old, and kept on writing poetry throughout his career in the foreign service.  One of his appointments was in Colombo.  Later he was elected to the Senate in Chile, and officially joined the Communist Party. He won the Stalin Peace Prize in 1953 and the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1971.  He was revered and celebrated in Chile long after his death in 1973.  His homes in Santiago, Valparaiso and Isla Negra are now museums visited by thousands of visitors. 

Things began to change in 2011 with a strong feminist movement demanding accountability for Chile’s institutional violence against women.  There were street demonstrations demanding non-sexist education in schools and protests against sexual harassment of women.  Details of Neruda’s life began to be viewed in a different light; his womanising and his treatment of his daughter, who was born with hydrocephalus.  There was also his own confession of the rape of a maid in Colombo when he was in his late twenties.  Neruda wrote about this incident in his book “Memoirs.” (The original Spanish title of this book translates as “I Confess That I Have Lived.”)   There is a movement in Chile now to recognize Gabriela Mistral as Chile’s foremost poet instead of Neruda. 

These days, when Neruda’s work is taught in universities, the students frequently challenge the professors.  Isabel Allende said it best: “Like many young feminists in Chile, I am disgusted by some aspects of Neruda’s life and personality.  However, we cannot dismiss his writing.” 

After reading this article, I began to think, is it fair to denigrate, blacklist, and banish the creations of talented artists/writers/poets/actors when serious personal misdeeds are revealed?  Should we not separate the creative work from the creators' personal lives and appreciate the works for their artistic value. In the distant past we were far more forgiving.  Of course, there were no social media then to generate frenzied emotional rhetoric. 

An artist whose paintings I have long admired is Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio known simply as Caravaggio.  He was a violent man who killed a man when he was a teenager and was forced to flee his village.  Throughout his life (1571-1610) he was involved in drunken brawls and possibly even more killings.  He subsequently died in Naples after being injured in a fight which led to wound infection. His paintings are magnificent, featuring struggles, torture, death, and biblical themes.  He was known for his dramatic use of light – chiaroscuro- (the treatment of light and shade in drawing and painting)  and tenebrism (painting using especially pronounced chiaroscuro, where there are violent contrasts of light and dark).  He was also known for painting directly from life on the canvas without first drawing the subject, which required exceptional talent.  Despite his violent and murderous ways, his paintings have not been condemned to the basement of museums.

Paul Gauguin ( 1848-1903), whose vibrant paintings have delighted many of us, left his middle-class life as a stockbroker, a life including a wife and five children, and moved to French Polynesia.  There he “married” several young women who were about 14 years old. Gauguin’s paintings continue to be exhibited proudly in many museums in spite of his questionable lifestyle. 

Pablo Picasso (1881-1973) was another genius who famously treated the women in his life miserably.  He created about 20,000 paintings, prints, drawings, sculptures and ceramics. His style evolved from realism to abstraction, cubism, surrealism and expressionism.  He is held in great esteem in spite of his many character flaws. 

One of the most shocking revelations in recent years was when the actor/comedian Bill Cosby was accused by several women of sexual assault.  My daughters and I had been fans of his many TV productions, which included some children’s shows where he played loveable, funny characters.  Most recently, he played the affable Dr Cliff Huxtable on The Cosby Show, a doctor and a dad handling the usual family crises with great humour.  Reruns of the show were being aired when Bill Cosby’s trial began, and many TV networks decided to stop airing the reruns.  They punished not just him but all his young co-stars as well.  Bill Cosby got his judgment in court, and I thought the actions of the networks were quite unnecessary and not justified. 

A work of art, literature, poetry, stage play, film, or television series should be appreciated and judged on its own merits.  It is distressing when we discover that the people involved in creating such works have major flaws ranging from racist views to sexual abuse and even murder.  As difficult as it may be, I try to separate the creation from the creator whenever possible and appreciate the work on its own merit.

My guess is that not everyone will agree with this viewpoint.

(graphics inserted to original post  by Mahendra)

A journey which commenced in 1962…Mahendra "Speedy" Gonsalkorale

A journey which commenced in 1962…

Mahendra “Speedy” Gonsalkorale

Almost sixty years ago, more than 160 fish were released to a pond to prepare for a long and hazardous journey upstream. They were all innocent, came in all shapes and sizes, both male and female but they all had one thing in common: they wanted to be conditioned and prepared for a life of caring for the sick. The pond was our faculty of Medicine and we were the fish.

The innocence was variable but real, not imagined. The innocence of youth, untarnished by experience. The final goal was also real but imagined as we hardly knew what it would be like to be doctors. The driving force was the vision of being “someone” worthy in Society, with sufficient means to maybe get married and raise a family. All human beings have a sense of identity, a sense of self or sentience as we call it. Our identity was inextricably tied up with the high regard Society had for our profession, like a glove to a hand. And, like all human beings, we wanted to be loved, to be admired and to be wanted. To be a Doctor was worth the tears, the hard work, and the effort and energy required.

The thought that we were so insignificant in a complex and massive Universe did not cross our minds. The thought that our planet Earth is just a miniscule dot in this vast Universe did not strike us. The thought that the sum total of time humans have inhabited this planet is just a blink of an eyelid in the scale that time has existed, did not strike us. These philosophical thoughts are interesting but ultimately, time, space, our place in the Universe matter to us only for the space and time we live in. Measured time could be meaningless- an F1 driver beats his rival by a “whole 12 milliseconds” which is “huge” in that time scale while a distant galaxy is “only” x light years away in a different scale.  The dog looks at the tiny mouse in front of him not knowing that a massive elephant is behind him. Our time and space might be relatively insignificant, but to us… it IS the most significant. But the realisation of the enormity of time and space and our relative insignificance should make us humble.

As we mature, we begin to ask questions such as what is reality, is there a God, we look for purpose, why we exist and whether existence ceases when we die. Why there is so much “good” as well as “evil” in this World.  But as students, we only thought of spending time equipping ourselves with the skills and knowledge required to be a good doctor. Of course, there were diversions and fun! As we matured, we realised that knowledge and skills are mandatory but of equal importance was the “human” aspect of dealing with patients such as empathy, listening skills, kindness, the subtle art of conveying bad news and so many other communication skills. We had to learn to deal with terrible things that happen to people such life-threatening illnesses, death and separation from loved ones. But we had compensations such as  the joy of healing, relieving pain and suffering, and witnessing the miracle of childbirth.

The fish continued to swim and almost all of them reached their destination. The pond was a happy place although difficult at times. Our “outer” camouflage did not matter at all, it was what was “inside” that mattered. Many lifelong relationships and friendships were formed. And finally…it was time to leave the pond, wear the outfit of the doctor  with a stethoscope proudly adorning the neck, and finally become what you strived for so hard…a doctor! The sense of achievement and reward was palpable and memorable.

Looking back over the past 60 odd years, it is salutary to reflect on the times and places we have travelled through in our journey. Who would have in their wildest dreams expected that we would be scattered around the globe? We became husbands, wives, fathers, mothers and even grander! When we were fish in the pond all those years ago, we bumped into each other all the time but as time passed and the world opened to us, fresh challenges, new friends, new relationships inevitably formed and the gossamer thread that united us became thinner, branched more and often broke off to float away. There were times when these branches ran into each other and relationships were rekindled. But everything changes; that is the Universal law and it applies equally well to the Colombomedgrads62 group.

We must not expect miracles. Just remind ourselves from time to time the brotherhood and sisterhood which united us. We were maturing souls held together by a common bond: the desire to be a doctor one day and by golly we have achieved that! We have in our midst Physicians, Surgeons, GPs, Professors, Researchers, Leaders, Followers, Innovators, Legends and most of all, we have exemplary human beings who are a credit to their parents, teachers, to their schools, to the Faculty, country and most importantly, to the much wider and important community of human beings that inhabit our precious Planet Earth.