This blog (created in March 2011 by Lucky) is about new entrants to the Colombo Medical Faculty of the University of Ceylon (as it was then known) in June 1962. There were a total of 166 in the batch (included 11 from Peradeniya). Please address all communications to: colmedgrads1962@gmail.com. Header image: Courtesy Prof. Rohan Jayasekara, Dean, Faculty of Medicine, University of Colombo (2011 - 2014). Please use the search bar using a keyword to access what interests you
It was most gratifying to see the number of contributions by colleagues.
Thanks to all of you who commented, and not forgetting the silent majority who accessed our Blog but did not post a comment.
This is the final contribution, and I hope you enjoy the video I created.
Mahendra "Speedy" Gonsalkorale
The time has come again, all too quickly, to pause, reflect on our mortality, and think of our lost colleagues. Since Remembrance Day 2024, we have lost five more of our beloved colleagues. That makes a total of 61 (62 after Nada)out of a total of 166. (There were 166 in the batch, including 11 from Peradeniya). There were 107 gentlemen and 59 ladies (including 4 from Peradeniya).
Those who departed since the last RD are:-
57. Gwendoline (Perera) Herath 28.06.2024
58. Primrose (Jayasinghe) Wijeyewardhena 11.08.2024
59. Rita M G Silva (Alwis) Nov 2024
60. Lakshman Abeyagunawardene. 14.12.2024
61. Revelion (Revo) Drahaman 20.12.2024.
62. Ravi Nadaraja
Please add comments on any of your colleagues for whom you wish to record your appreciation.
"Happiness will never come to those who fail to appreciate what they already have"
“Memories don’t leave like people do; they always stay with you”
"The most important discovery true friends make is that they can grow separately without growing apart." - Elisabeth Foley.
"Friendship is the hardest thing in the world to explain. It's not something you learn in school. But if you haven't learned the meaning of friendship, you really haven't learned anything." — Muhammad Ali
“Death ends a life, not a relationship; All the love you created is still there. All the memories are still there. You live on in the hearts of everyone you have touched and nurtured while you were here,” Marie Schwatz.
May they Rest in Peace
We shall forever remember them with fondness and respect.
Please add comments on any of your colleagues for whom you wish to record your appreciation or email me with a contribution which I can add to this post as I have done with ND's article so that we will have a page which will grow progressively.
(2) Respecting our Noble tradition of Remembrance. sent on 12th May 2025
by Nihal
D Amerasekera
The 30th of May has become a special date in our calendar,
known as “Remembrance Day”. This day is dedicated to remembering our friends
who joined the Faculty of Medicine, Colombo in 1962 and have now passed away.
It’s a time to reflect on the wonderful time we shared together and pay our
respects. We can celebrate their lives and be grateful for the time we had.
I am overwhelmed by nostalgia as I reminisce those days in
the Faculty. I remember with a sense of
loss a kinder gentler world which disappeared forever as I left medical school.
The most painful of all is the disappearance from my life the people who meant
so much to me, my friends. I stepped on the treadmill to carve myself a career
and raise a family. Now having reached the end of my working life I still yearn
for those days even though more than fifty years have passed me by. We were so
much a part of the Faculty and the GHC, the voices and laughter of those
departed must still echo in the ether of the hallowed grounds.
The gnawing pain of losing friends never truly eases with
time. Friendships are one of life’s rich gifts, especially those made and
strengthened in youth. They are special and enduring, leaving us with great
sadness but also with fond and unique memories.
At this time, we think of the spouses and families of those
who have passed away. They have faced the difficult and painful task of coming
to terms with living without their loved ones. We admire and commend their
courage and efforts to maintain contact and join our gatherings and reunions.
They are an integral part of our community and will always be welcome.
On this special day, we take this opportunity to remember
our teachers in the Faculty and our clinical tutors in the GHC. They generously
imparted their knowledge, teaching us the difficult craft of diagnosis,
treatment, and caring. We were immensely fortunate to have Prof O.E.R
Abhayaratne as the Dean of the Faculty of Medicine. He was an outstanding
teacher, an altruistic mentor, and a father figure to us all.
The five years of hard toil and trauma brought us closer.
Our batch of 159 students demonstrated remarkable unity and loyalty to each
other. The pranks and foibles, especially the risqué jokes, allusions, and
double entendres, come to mind easily. The block concerts, Colours Nights, the
many evening parties in the Men’s Common Room, and the final year trip are
memories we treasure. What we remember now are the good times.
Do make every attempt to keep in touch. There is no better
place than our own hangout in cyberspace – we call the Blog. This is the forum
that unites us. Send your Poems, Paintings and Prose to Mahendra Gonsalkorala to be
published. Comments help to encourage the contributors and keep the Blog alive.
Despite life’s vain tumults, none of us is here forever. Our time will come, and now we are in the grip of events, much of which is beyond our control. Meanwhile, we must enjoy life, family, and friends. Even now, when I smell formalin or ether, I am transported back in time and space to the Faculty at Kynsey Road. Overwhelmed by nostalgia, I still feel a flicker of nerves. Then, a video plays in my mind of friends and life long ago. Ah! Where have those years gone?
More of my memories of departed colleagues (by ND)
H.N.Wickramasinghe
I was surprised and delighted to see him in the Paediatric ward in Kurunegala to start his internship in June 1967. For the following 6 months, we were to save lives together. I couldn’t have asked for a better colleague. It was such a pleasure to work with HN as he was conscientious, caring and a kind doctor. I remember it so well on our first payday when we did a long walk to the Kurunegala Rest House after work and enjoyed several pints of beer. This became a regular ritual until he left Kurunegala. He was great company at any time, but more so after the amber nectar. We became closer during the internship. He never indulged in hurtful gossip, recrimination or sniping and had a good word for everyone. His commitment, honesty and dignity touched all those with whom he worked. With HN’s gregarious and affable personality, he had no interest in grumbling and complaining about work or people. He never stood for any nonsense and spoke his mind. This enhanced the respect and his popularity as a person.
Sivakumar Vedavanam
In the Blood Bank, we became closer. I recall the many evenings we drifted towards the Health Department Sports Club to put the world to right and enjoy the amber nectar that flowed so freely. That was a time when the Medical Officer in the Blood Bank had to go to all parts of our island to collect blood. On many occasions when he went on these journeys, he asked me to join in for company. We did have a jolly good time. During those trips he showed tremendous kindness to the PHI’s, attendants and labourers who were part of the team. They loved him for his classless friendship and lavish hospitality. Those were indeed memorable years. He will be fondly remembered for the work he did for the National Blood Transfusion Service of Sri Lanka 1970-75.
Razaque Ahamat
Because of our surnames, “A”, we sat together at lectures, weathered the storms of the signatures and revisals and endured the hardships of those clinical appointments. We both lived in Wattala and travelled daily by train from Hunupitiya to Maradana in carriages packed like sardines. During those years, what stands out is his helpful kindness, his great sense of humour and his charming, convivial nature. All through those years in the Faculty he enjoyed life to the full. He joined in the many dances, Colours Night and Block Nights that brightened up our lives. Razaque was often one of the last of the stragglers to leave King George’s Hall at the break of dawn.
He had many stories to tell which he related with a slight lisp which enhanced the narrative. He said, with a murky smile, he descended from the Royal family in Penang. Fact or fiction, we will never know just like the other hilarious stories in his repertoire. Razaque brought happiness to our lives at the Faculty when the atmosphere was stuffy and toxic.
Zita Perera Subasinghe
After the great dispersal from Kynsey Road in 1967, it took a further 48 years to see Zita again. This time, she was with her husband, Joe. They both seemed jolly and lively. Mahendra has kept in touch with Zita, and we all met up at Côte Brasserie off Oxford Street in London. It was 2015, and we had all retired from our professional lives. This was a remarkable bonding and there was so much closeness and intimacy despite the passage of years. We retraced our lives since medical school. I remember the clarity with which Zita related the story of her life, work, and family to this day. What stood out was how happy she was with her life. Zita was delightful company, always spoke kindly about people, and there was never a harsh word.
Priya Gunaratna
In 1967 we met again in Kurunegala doing those arduous tasks of internship. We worked together in the Children's Ward with the Paediatrician Dr Chandra de S Wijesundera (who later married our batchmate Manel Ratnavibhushana). There, I got to know Priya more closely, sharing the on-calls and other onerous tasks of a busy unit. While at work she had the great ability to remain calm and in control. She showed tremendous kindness, courtesy and patience towards the children in her care and also to their worried parents. I recall Priya had great empathy for the poor, simple rural folk of the wanni who sought our help. She remained a reliable, unpretentious and hardworking colleague throughout. The passion, integrity, and professionalism Priya showed during the internship was a beacon for us all. She was indeed a very special person.
Tudor Wickramarachi:
He was rather restless and intense as a medical student. He always gave as good as he got. I also remember his ebullient and exuberant personality and his zest for life. Tudor and I worked as surgical interns and endured the punishing schedule of hospital medicine together. Amidst the brief tantrums, awful puns and risqué humour, Tudor showed great empathy and tremendous kindness to his patients, staff and colleagues. He was a loyal friend but was never inhibited by sensitivity or shyness when it came to expressing his own opinion. Although occasionally boisterous, he was mostly gregarious, genial and generous. I visited him when he was DMO Dambulla. Call it ‘oriental lavishness’, the bottle of amber nectar appeared before I sat down and to this day remains a blissful memory of a well-lubricated evening. When we met again in London he was much subdued and a reformed family man. I nearly fell off the chair when he refused a drink. Tudor became a respected Pathologist in Bristol. He sadly passed away while doing what he loved best – playing golf. A life well lived but taken far too soon age 66.
Asoka Wijeyekoon alias “Lubber”
He was one of my closest pals and one that I miss a great deal. Meeting him even as an octogenarian, the conversation was always current as he was well-informed. He expressed his views and opinions without fear or favour and brought a good deal of lateral thought to any discussion. I sincerely hope one day we will meet again in another realm. Perhaps it is au revoir and not goodbye. I know he will have a lot to say about that, too. When I look back the memories of 50+ years, Lubber was a kind, sociable friend and a unique human being. This is not an attempt to deify him. He too has the same faults we all possess. As in his youth Lubber is extraordinarily frank, fears no one and retained an aura of gravitas from his ‘consultant’ days. He had the remarkable ability to bring to any discussion a huge degree of intelligence derived from lateral thinking. I am ever grateful we were able to meet. It is true we go back to the beginning as we get to the end. It was, and will always remain, one of the great privileges of my life to have known him.
A.Satchithananda
Ever curious, he was cultured as he was intelligent. We played table tennis and carrom in the Faculty Common Room and over cups of tea put the world to right. He later emigrated to the USA. We were both Apple Computer buffs. In those early days they were disastrously unreliable beasts. We tried hard to make sense and keep them working.
Although not a Christian he listened every Christmas to the Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols sung by the Kings College Choir in Cambridge on Christmas eve, broadcast at 3pm GMT which he said was a ritual since his schooldays.
When Satchi was at the height of his fame and success as a Paediatrician in Wisconsin, he walked away from the profession due to ill health. His journey through life was filled with sadness and tragedy, but he always managed to smile and joke with his friends. I remember well his charm and intellect. We met up in an Indian Restaurant in London in the 1990s and enjoyed lunch and exchanged gifts. His present to me was a Gorecki’s 3rd Symphony, a deeply sorrowful piece of work. Understandably, the events of his painful past and his own illness had a devastating effect on his life and personality. Despite this, he maintained his dignity and composure, remaining a loyal friend to the end. He indeed stood above the common herd.
Revelion Drahaman
I first met Revo in 1965 when we were both students at the Faculty of Medicine in Colombo. It was the Swinging Sixties. Memories of amber nectar, tall tales and late nights whizz around my head as I recall those years of long ago. Friendships were made and firmed in the canteen and common room which was the social hub of the Faculty where laughter was endemic. Revo started his training with the first batch of students at Peradeniya and moved to Colombo on a transfer. As our surnames were nearer the beginning of the alphabet, we did most of the clinical work together. Our walks on the long corridors to every corner of the General Hospital in search of patients and knowledge is a memory that has stayed with me. This brought us closer and the friendship lasted a lifetime. By his dignity and decency, he brought honour to his school, the profession and his community. This short biography is a testament to the caring and integrity which was evident in everything he did. Revo lived a remarkable life. He was ever so humble about his success and never regarded himself as someone special. Despite his privileged upbringing, he never lost the common touch. I consider myself so very fortunate to have met him in my journey through life. Revo is a gem in a world of pebbles. He has gone before us in the journey we all must take.
Lakshman Dias Abeygunawardene
Lakshman was a quiet man, yet gregarious, always charming. He was well known for his intense loyalty to his friends. His anecdotes, wonderful sense of humour and that ‘wicked’ grin were an integral part his charm. I remember from long ago his courtesy and kind ways which he has carried through all his life. I am greatly privileged to have met him in my life’s journey.”
J.C Fernando
JC has had a rewarding professional career. We have enjoyed his company, humanity and joie de vivre. Rarely boring or predictable, sometimes outrageous, JC was excellent company. He had tremendous enthusiasm for social events in medical school. Being a fine musician, many of us got to know JC at social functions. We sang and danced at the memorable and raucous evening booze-ups in the Men’s Common Room. My abiding memory at these events is the lithe figure of the ‘Dark Knight’ strumming his guitar, singing in graphic detail the itchy tale of “the dance of the phthirus pubis”. His signature song was “Saima cut wela” a tragic tale of a beginner’s hangover and an effective home remedy. He sang “Suranganee-ta malu genawa”, tempting fate long before they became a pair!! He capped it all with an enduring contribution to the Final year trip making the days brighter and the nights merrier. His was a good life well lived, and he has left fond memories which will always be treasured”.
Bernard Randeniya
Bernard was held in high esteem in the Health Service as one of its most colourful and successful managers, and as a man who led from the front and inspired all those who worked with him. His great professionalism was accompanied by an infectious enthusiasm for life and mischievous sense of humour. He used his charm and skills of persuasion to obtain expensive equipment for the Cancer Institute Maharagama to benefit the numerous patients who came for treatment. Despite his achievements he was also a modest man, protective of his privacy, embarrassed by praise and with a deep aversion for publicity.
In early 1999 when we met up in Colombo, he gave me the sad news of his illness which proved terminal. I kept in touch with him and admire the courage which he showed until the very end. He passed away with great dignity in November 1999 at the age of 58 years. Bernard was a devout Catholic . His faith gave him great comfort during his final illness.
His cheeky grin and infectious laugh are precious memories for us all. Bernard was my best friend and I will miss him. He was far too young to leave us.
S.R De Silva
Sunil came from the upper echelons of society with a strong academic background but was resolutely down to earth. This showed even in the way he dressed. He had the remarkable ability to move with equal ease with the bourgeoisie and the proletariat, a trait inherited from his illustrious uncle Colvin R de Silva. He made many friends in the faculty and by his very nature had no enemies. Sunil was soft-spoken, self-effacing and sober. His lifestyle was modest and unpretentious. He was exceptionally kind to everyone and treated all with courtesy and respect. Sunil never entertained any of that frivolous gossip which was rampant in the university. We were all just out of our teenage years and showed our emotions easily, but not Sunil. I never saw those moments of sentimentality in him. Perhaps he masked them skilfully with his distinctive poker face.
He may have a chuckle reading this narrative, wagging his finger at me.
A VIGNETTE ON FRIENDSHIP
“The comfort
of having a friend may be taken away, but not that of having had one” -Seneca.
The image of ND
on his armchair, lingering lovingly on the images of our departed colleagues,
struck a chord deep in my heart. I followed suit, deliberately dwelling on some,
rekindling memories of those joyous days of our youth.
As the poet
memorably said
“Bliss it
was that dawn to be alive,
But to be
young was very heaven”
- William
Wordsworth -
Our hearts were
full of romance, the limbs supple and the gait swift, but we were also
vulnerable, easily hurt and slow to recover. Many of us did bounce back,
however, and reach great heights, bringing acclaim to our entire group.
ND’s image also
reminded me of Buddha’s advice to Ananda, his cousin and attendant, while
residing in the Sakya village of Nagardaka. Ananda, having paid homage to the
Blessed One, said, “Venerable Sir, good friendship, good companionship and good
comradeship are half of the holy life”.
“Not so Ananda
, Not so Ananda , good friendship, good companionship and good comradeship is
the entire holy life. When a bhikku has a good friend, a good companion, a good
comrade, it is to be expected that he will develop and cultivate the Noble
Eightfold Path”.
I affectionately remembered too, our living colleagues and friends, who continue to enliven our lives. I wish them and all their families good health, happiness and peace to the end of their days.
I could have written about so many of our lost colleagues, but I chose to write about Zita on this occasion, as she was a very special person. She had many talents, and she valued friendship so much. A significant reason for the blog to continue to this day was Zita’s enthusiasm for it. The Blog was the vehicle through which I re-established contact with Zita and her lovely family. I have visited them on several occasions, and every time I went, I was greeted with love and affection, not just by Zita and Joe but also by Nisha and Rohan. I felt completely at home and relaxed.
She is without doubt a very special person, a person with whom I have had deep discussions on the nature of life, faith and belief. These are subjects you have to tread carefully with some people, as it can cause misunderstandings, but with Zita, we were totally honest with each other, although we did not always agree. But this is the essence of laudable human nature, to question and disagree while always respecting another view, as surely, we mortals cannot claim to know everything.
Zita was a talented piano player, and her poems were beautifully written. Our blog is filled with many thoughtful and entertaining posts by her.
It was my good fortune and great privilege to have been her friend; her memory will always remain with me.
(7) By Harsha Boralessa
I am posting some fond memories of some of our dear batchmates who are no longer with us.
Thilak Dayaratna: a close and loyal friend, gifted with a beautiful singing voice and immense artistic talent. He was also a keen dancer although he had the tendency to go off beat and tread on his partner’s toes. He got away with it by telling his dancing partners that he was executing the latest moves taught at the Viville de Kauwe School of Dancing. I spent many a Saturday night in his company drinking Lion Lager at the Savoy Hotel, Wellawathe.
Johnny Chandrasiri – very studious and kept meticulous lecture notes. In the last three months of our final year at Medical School Kumar and I invited him to be our unofficial room guest at the Blom. He was a great asset and all of us benefitted immensely from studying together.
He loved COD unaccompanied by ketchup, chips and mushy peas.
Suren Iyer: while I barely knew him as a medical student, we became close friends (a good aiyah) after we emigrated to the UK. He was a caring and competent GP who was much loved by colleagues and patients alike. A very loyal and generous member of the Old Anandians Association in the UK.
Suren and his lovely wife Sweeney were enthusiastic Latin and Ballroom Dancers. I can still picture them doing the rhumba to their favourite Sinhala song Kandula Ithin Samaweyan.
Sue Ratnavel: As with Suren, I barely knew Sue at medical school but got to know her very well in later life as she was a very close friend of my wife Harshi. At medical school Sue was very reserved but much admired. When I got to know her, I found her to be simple and down-to-earth even though she hailed from an affluent family. I particularly enjoyed listening to her speaking fluent Sinhala.
According to my wife, Sue used to sing beautifully. As a medical student in Kandy, Sue played a lead part in the after-dinner sing-alongs in their Hall of Residence. Jail House Rock and and Sloop John B were among two of her favourite songs.
Navan Chinniah was part of our Sig group which consisted of Siri Cassim, Johnny, Lady Chellapa and Chitta. He related funny stories, had a good sense of humour and was always smartly dressed. Following his first class at the third MBBS, he threw a party for 50 of his batchmates at a local Chinese restaurant. We had a sumptuous meal and a great time.
This is the full list of 56 colleagues who have departed in chronological order. If you scroll down, you will see their photos.
Our dear departed
friends
CAMELOT AND ELYSIUM
“Don’t
let it be forgot,
That once
there was a spot,
For one
brief shining moment,
That was
known as Camelot.”
To many, the years in our beloved Alma Mater was Camelot. To some like me, it was a prelude to the Elysium that lay by the sea in the hamlet of Mahamodera. Memories abound of both, which brighten my sunset years, waking up my dormant neurones, in a burst of joy.
I lament having limited myself to a select special group in those halcyon years. That gap, however, is now being filled by the recollections of our blog mates, Mahen, Nihal, Bora, Srianee, Suri, Sanath, Chira et al. I rejoice reading again and again the reminiscences and exploits of the Knights of our own Round Table in Kynsey Road, and also of the charming female Confreres (1) who stood shoulder to shoulder with us in good times and bad. They revive, even for a brief shining moment, the grandeur and the glory of those golden days.
Memories
The clinical appointments were boring, occasionally
terrifying and are best forgotten. The one exception was the professorial
gynaecology term. The dimly lit, forbidding ward became a sanctum, owing to
the kindness and beauty of a nonpareil. I would look forward each day to the setting down of the sun, to venture forth, clean-shaven, sweet smelling, clad in a fresh white shirt and slacks for a couple of hours of bliss. Had I known the lyrics, I would have crooned endlessly, “Heaven, I’m in Heaven.”
Galle evokes many memories which jostle for primacy, but it
is the journeys that stand out. The first was the drive, in Sunna’s Renault
Dauphine on the day prior to taking up duties as interns. He was an accomplished driver, and we sped along the ancient highway, past sleepy villages and magnificent bays with golden beaches and foaming surf, chatting all the while. The ambience, the terrain and the conversation are still imprinted
in my psyche. The return trip on my first weekend off with Rohini S, on a gently rolling train carriage, too, was equally memorable, and the conversation and company delightful. There were other trips; a hair-raising ride on a pitch-black night on Sunna’s motorbike to Matara and back, a wildlife safari in his
jeep and a long excursion to Nuwara Eliya to see our dear friend Amitha.
The epic journey that began in Kynsey Road and traversed four continents now lingers in the Antipodes. I will forever remember the friendships that sweetened and enriched my way.
As the poet Khalil Gibran says.
"In the
sweetness of friendship,
Let there
be laughter and sharing of pleasures, For in the dew of little things,
Does the
heart find its morning and is refreshed".
Note from Speedy: 1. Confreres- Fellow members of a profession
By Harsha Boralessa
Thilak Dayaratne
He was a very sincere and loyal person. It was in the first year of medical school that we got to know each other and soon became close friends. Even now I can still fondly recall our Saturday nights at the Savoy Hotel drinking Lion Lager.
While Thilak was a quiet person compared to the rest of the batch, he had a nice sense of humour and would make us laugh with his storytelling skills, some of which have rubbed on me. What a great raconteur. Thilak’s narrative of a tea estate manager (a typical Brown Sahib) who would dress up for Saturday night supper was a classic. The creeper (the trainee planter) was shocked when, quite by chance, he caught sight of his boss undressing. First to come off was the DJ, soon followed by the black tie, dress shirt and finally, trousers. All that was left was the amude (loin cloth) ! The junior was struggling to contain his laughter. An unforgettable story – thoroughly amusing.
Thilak was a gifted musician and a talented artist. He would keep the party going with his songs, particularly after a few drinks. His dancing skills were limited, but he got away with it by convincing whoever he was dancing with that his moves were the latest routines from Veville de Kauwe’s School of Dancing.
A very honest and honourable person whom I miss very much.
“Johnny” Chandrasiri
He was very studious and attentive at lectures. He made detailed notes, which he would unselfishly share with us.
Towards the end of our final year, I invited him to form a study group with Kumar G and myself. We were very impressed with Johnny’s surgical knowledge and clear explanations. During the last four months of our final year, he became our unofficial roommate. Kumar and I benefitted immensely from the study sessions. Johnny, we are ever so grateful to you.
Suren Iyer
Suren was a caring GP who was well thought of and respected by his colleagues and much loved by his patients. A fun-loving, cheerful character, Suren was gregarious, generous, and hospitable.
He and Sweeney were such a loving couple. He used to compose romantic poems and leave them under Sweeney’s pillow, which delighted her and gave her sweet dreams.
They were very enthusiastic dancers. I still remember the couple dancing the rumba at the Visakha Balls in the UK and how elegantly they moved to Keerthi Pascal’s hit, “Kandula.” This was one of their favourite songs.
He was very fond of our batch. At the 2018 Negombo reunion, he danced all night despite an episode of angina relieved by a GTN spray.
Suren: we still love you and feel your absence at the Sri Lankan Dances in London.
JC Fernando
I knew JC from the STC Prep School Days in the
early 1950s. He was a superb athlete who started as a sprinter and ended up as the Public Schools 400-meter Champion. He also captained the Royal College Athletic Team in 1958.
During our medical school days, JC would often give me a lift on the pillion of his Honda bike from Kynsey Road to the junction of Havelock Road and Dickman’s Road. He always insisted that we enjoy a cup of tea and punt before commencing the journey. A very popular member of our batch. The life and soul of the party - - he would entertain us with his baila dancing and singing. JC’s version of CT’s “mee amba wanaya” provided plenty of joy and laughter at parties and dances.
I shared a room with JC during our internship at the LRH. He took great pride in keeping the room tidy – his bed was always meticulously made up. Occasionally one of our batch mates (yet to qualify) used to enter our room with his girlfriend during our off weekends. To JC’s irritation, they would always make a mess of his bed. JC used to complain that it was always his bed that was chosen for play. I used to think to myself, “Probably JC, the lady, was attracted by your after-shave lotion”.
JC, you are unforgettable.
REMEMBRANCE DAY – (5)
A note to all. If you look at the "Post category index" (which is in alphabetical order) on the Right side of the page (the grey section next to the posts), after "Most recent comments", you can see "Remembrance Day(30)", indicating 30 posts in the Blog. If you click on this, you can access ALL the Remembrance Day posts since inception as you scroll down. When you come to the last one on the screen, click on "older posts", and the next lot will appear. Please use this Blog facility to group any of the categories listed. I don't think many of you are aware of this. Hope you find this useful-Speedy
We
continue to remember our dear departed friends with contributions from
batchmates. This is from Chirasri
My tribute to four wonderful friends. I have added more recollections in the comments to other remembrance posts.
by Chirasri Jayaweera Bandara
Zita
Perera Subasinghe
Zita was a dear friend of mine, and I miss her terribly. I associate her demise with great sadness. She was a lovable person who always had a smile on her face. She thought highly about people, and I have never heard her talk ill of anyone.
I have associated with Zita very closely. We did our internship together with Dr. Misso at the General Hospital, Colombo. When I was in the UK for my Postgraduate studies between 1996 and 1999, I visited Zita and her family and had meals at her place. I also worked in the UK for six months in 1986, 1992, and 1998 and spent weekends at Zita’s place. Being of the same speciality, we used to meet each other also at college meetings and congresses.
I admired her self-determination and courage to sit for our local MS Ophthalmology exam conducted by the Postgraduate Institution of Medicine Colombo. Cassim and I were her examiners. She passed and worked at the Karapitiya Hospital and Sri Jayawardenapura Hospital, Kotte.
We used to visit each other and have meals together. One day, when they visited my home, Zita and Joe brought a large (40” x 28”) framed beautiful picture. This still adorns the wall of one room. I will never forget Zita, and I will always remember her. This picture gives me pleasant memories.
Our family, Ranjit and our two children, visited Zita in 2004 and had lunch at her South End on Sea home. She and Joe took us to the Seafront, and we had a lovely time. Happy Memories!
One day, I got an E-mail from Zita saying she was stranded in Spain without money and asking whether I could send her £2000. Since I could not contact her, I sent this money. When I realised it was a fraud, I contacted Barclays Bank London to stop payment. Luckily, the money was not sent, but I lost £100. Subsequently, she gave me a cheque for £100 when she met me in Sri Lanka at our batch reunion, which I did not accept. I asked her what friends are for if we cannot help each other in a time of need.
I was constantly in touch with Zita on WhatsApp. The last time she heard that Ranjit was ill, she said that she would pray for him and that he would definitely get better.
Zita is an artist who made beautiful greeting cards, which I admired. She is an extraordinary person who bravely and with unbelievable courage faced challenges to her health. I admire her attitude. She is a shining example for us to follow if we face a similar situation.
I was
fascinated by her book of poems. What talent to write these 41 poems! She
expressed her views and ideas in verse with rhyme and reason. I must
congratulate Rohan for taking the initiative to get this book printed. I am
sure Zita would have been so happy to see her own innovations. Well done Zita
and Rohan. When I read her last two poems, ‘Dialogue with Death’ and ‘The End’,
it simply filled my eyes with tears which overflowed.
Zita had a
very supportive family. Joe, Rohan, and Nisha made her tasks easier. Let me
congratulate Rohan for removing pleuritic fluid from her chest once a week
for about one year. You are great, Rohan, looking after your mum with such enthusiasm. We appreciate your deed greatly.
Zita has had a lovely life, leaving behind fond memories. She is missed by her family, friends, and batch mates. May she rest in peace.
Priya (Gunaratna) de Silva
Priya was a very good friend of mine, and I miss her very much. She was friendly and helpful and saw the
brighter side of everything.
I used to travel to Medical College in a private car and pick up
late Priya and Kamini from Dickmans Road and Padmini from Isipathana Mawatha. During College days, we were in and out of our houses.
When I went to Kandy as a Consultant Eye Surgeon, she and her family lived there. We used to visit each other and have meals together. When their younger daughter Anjali (6 - 7 years old) had an Eye injury, I treated her.
One day in Kandy, when I was driving home in the hot sun, suddenly,
the whole windscreen cracked up like a jigsaw. I just couldn't see to drive.
With difficulty, I moved the car to the side and stopped. From nowhere, Priya
came to my rescue. She helped me contact Walkers, got the car towed, and
dropped me off at home.
Later, when we came to Colombo, we visited each other and had
meals together.
Priya, Chula, her husband, and her daughters used to consult me
about their eyes at my residence. My husband Ranjit knew Chula as they worked
together in the past.
We attended their daughters’ weddings. The meal was Vegetarian.
Sharini, the elder one, married our batch mate Swarna Vithana's nephew. They
live in the USA. Anjali, the younger one, married DB Nihalsinghe's son, and
they live in Australia.
I am in touch with Chula as he and his domestic consult me about
their eyes. My son, who is a Doctor, helped Chula and his domestic's son at Kalubowila Hospital.
Priya was a lovely person, and I miss her very much. May she rest in
Peace.
Kamini (Goonawardena) Ferdinando
I received news of Kamini's death in 2021 with a great deal of sadness.
She was a quiet, friendly and ’Prim and proper’ lady.
I used to travel to Medical College in a private car, pick up late Kamini and late Priya off Dickmans Road, and Padmini from Isipathana Mawatha.
I did an Internship at The Castle Street Hospital for Women, and I think she, too, did an Internship there. Kamini went to New Zealand first, and others followed much later. They came to my residence to get their eyes checked on several occasions before they left.
Sadly,I lost contact with them.
JG Wijetunge.
I remember him as a quiet, rather shy, well-mannered batchmate who is to talk to us on and off during College days.
He was an Eye Surgeon who was on my council when I was President of the College of Ophthalmologists in 1999 and 2000. I used to meet him at our College meetings and at the annual Congresses.
He used to see patients at the Nawaloka Hospital, Colombo and the nurses used to tell me that he took great care of the patients spending a lot of time writing down everything. He was a conscientious worker.
When he was ill, I saw him at his residence. His wife took great care of him
Remembrance 2024- (4). A note to all. If you look at the "Post category index" on the Right side of the page (the grey section next to the posts), after "Most recent comments", you can see "Remembrance Day(29)", indicating 29 posts in the Blog . If you click on this, you can access ALL the Remembrance Day posts since inception as you scroll down. When you come to the last one on the screen, click on "older posts" and the next lot will appear. Please use this Blog facility to group any of the categories listed. I don't think many of you ate aware of this. Hope you find this useful-Speedy
We continue postings from batchmates to remember our dear departed friends. This is by ND.
By Dr
Nihal D Amerasekera
It was with a
sense of excitement we entered the hallowed portals of the faculty of medicine
in 1962. The wind of change swept across our lives as it conveyed the dynamism
of our youthful aspirations.
We remember most
fondly Prof OER Abhayaratne, who oiled the wheels of administration. His
majestic presence lit up the corridors of power. We recall with gratitude the
many who taught us in the Anatomy Block and the lecture theatres of the
Faculty. The senior doctors of the GHC shared
their knowledge and educated us beyond the call of duty. We remember them all with affection and thankfulness.
They guided and trained us to alleviate pain and suffering, making the world a
better place. After the ‘results’ In 1967, I do remember the exhilaration and
the sense of triumph.
Amigos para
Siempre – friends for life. How very true. Since Sarah Brightman and Jose
Carreras sang this at the closing ceremony of the Barcelona Olympics, its
haunting melody and poignant lyrics have stayed with us forever. None of us
can imagine a life without friends and friendships. It is human nature to want
to meet to reminisce, to recall and to share our thoughts. Our remembrance
today bears testimony to that special closeness and bond that began way back in
1962. Although Faculty life was tough, we had that youthful resilience. None of
us were scarred by the place despite the torrents of ‘verbal abuse’. Even at
the worst of times, there was a bit of sparkle. There are so many fond memories
which we have archived forever.
Since those
days, our lives have diverged beyond belief. In my long, winding journey through
life, I have seen the forking paths. I made my own choices. You may think you
can make your own luck, but you can’t. I just call it destiny for want of a
better word. Perhaps our moral compass is struggling to keep pace with
science!! Thankfully, life has turned out well for all who gather at reunions to
recount and reminisce.
Retirement
despite its onerous routines came as blow. In a flash I became a layman. All
that I have aspired and learnt was left to decay and perish. But I like to
think retirement came before I became old-fashioned and institutionalised.
This Remembrance
Day may seem a brief encounter. Time has flown. Thoughts like this are just the
tonic to remember and also overcome the transience of life. The world is never
still, and our lives are a series of beginnings and endings. As Shakespeare said
in Romeo and Juliet, ‘parting is such sweet sorrow’. ‘Sweet’ because of the
many memories we cherish.
Although
Doris Day sang it way back in 1956, those poignant lyrics still ring true:
"Que
sera, sera,
Whatever will
be, will be;
The future's
not ours to see.
Que sera,
sera.
Bernard Randeniya
Although we
were in the same year, I got to know Bernard when my parents moved to his home
town of Wattala in 1963. We travelled daily by train to Maradana with Razaque
Ahamath. We began to study together for the intensely difficult 2nd MB
examination and struck up a friendship which lasted a lifetime. During those
heady days of our youth, there were many fun-filled events like the Block Nite,
Colours Nite and other Medical College functions. Those bring back numerous
memories of music, dancing, fun and laughter. Bernard always featured in them
prominently and never missed an opportunity to enjoy.
Bernard was
held in high esteem in the Health Service as one of its most colourful and
successful managers and as a man who led from the front and inspired all those
who worked with him. He used his charm and skills of persuasion to obtain
expensive equipment for the Cancer Institute to benefit the numerous patients
who came for treatment. Despite his achievements he was also a modest man,
protective of his privacy, embarrassed by praise and with a deep aversion for
publicity.
In early 1999, when we met up in Colombo, he gave me the sad news of his illness, which proved terminal. I kept in touch with him and admired the courage which he showed until
the very end. He passed away with great dignity in November 1999 at the age of
58 years. Bernard was a devout Catholic. His faith gave him great comfort
during his final illness.
His cheeky
grin and infectious laugh are precious memories for us all. Bernard was my best
friend, and I will miss him. He was far too young to leave us.
May his soul
Rest in Peace.
Sivakumar
Vedavanam
I write this
with great sadness over the unimaginable loss of a close friend. All through those years in the Faculty
of hard study and fun, his effervescent character remained his hallmark. As we
left the Faculty and went our separate ways in 1967, I thought I would not see
him again. But the forces of destiny worked in our favour. We started work at
the Central Blood Bank in Colombo in 1970, almost on the same day.
In the Blood
Bank, we became closer. I recall the many evenings we drifted towards the Health
Department Sports Club to put the world to right and enjoy the amber nectar
that flowed so freely. That was a time when the Medical Officer in the Blood
Bank had to go to all parts of our island to collect blood. On many occasions
when he went on these journeys, he asked me to join in for company. We did have
a jolly good time. During those trips he showed tremendous kindness to the
PHI’s, attendants and labourers who were
part of the team. They loved him for his classless friendship and lavish
hospitality. Those were indeed memorable years. He will be fondly remembered
for the work he did for the National Blood Transfusion Service of Sri Lanka
1970-75.
He came to
the UK and qualified in Psychiatry. He worked for many years as a Forensic
Psychiatrist in Durham before moving to Bedford. Neither he nor I remained in
haematology. Hence our career paths diverged and sadly I never met him again. We
spoke briefly on the phone in the 1990’s and rekindled a myriad of past
memories. Veda exuded decency, integrity and common sense.
Veda married
a Dhushy, a Solicitor, and had two children, a girl and a boy, both of whom are
doctors in England. He had his share of ill health. He passed away in June 2015
of a sudden heart attack.
May he find
Eternal Peace
H.N. Wickramasinghe
We both
entered the Faculty of Medicine in Colombo in 1962. Although being at the
opposite ends of the alphabet according to our surnames his inborn ability to
make friends easily shone through. We soon became pals enjoying a tea-punt in
the common room in the presence of his many of his friends. For a big, tall man, HN was surprisingly soft-spoken. He was witty and charismatic with a vigour and
energy that were contagious.
HN was a fine
sportsman, a born leader and played Hockey for the University. He captained the
Royal College 2nd XI cricket team and the star studded 1st XI Hockey team in
1959with great success.
I was
surprised and delighted to see him in the Paediatric ward in Kurunegala to
start his internship in June 1967. For the following 6 months, we were to save
lives together. I couldn’t have asked for a better colleague. It was such a
pleasure to work with HN as he was conscientious, caring and a kind doctor. I
remember it so well on our first payday when we did a long walk to the
Kurunegala Rest House after work and enjoyed several pints of beer. This became
a regular ritual until he left Kurunegala. He was great company at any time, but
more so after the amber nectar. We became closer during the internship. He
never indulged in hurtful gossip, recrimination or sniping and had a good word
for everyone. His commitment, honesty and dignity touched all those with whom
he worked. With HN’s gregarious and affable personality, he had no interest in
grumbling and complaining about work or people. He never stood for any nonsense
and spoke his mind. This enhanced the respect and his popularity as a person.
For my next 6 months, I proceeded to Surgery and HN to Obs and Gynae. But we remained in touch, enjoying the many parties they had at the famous quarters called Ambaruk-Sevana, where HN stayed in Kurunegala. When I hear CT Fernando’s song “Ambaruk Sevanallay”
I am reminded of HN and Tudor Wickramaaratchi who sang it at the top of their
voices to reverberate in the stillness of the night. Sadly, they are both no
more.
After
internship HN left Kurunegala and I stayed on. I recall our farewell party at
Ambaruk-Sevana and the sad goodbyes. In such situations, HN got very emotional. On that fateful day, I saw him wiping a tear
as he left us. He was one of the few in our batch who never wanted to join the hordes that left Sri Lanka in the 1960s and 70’s with the so-called brain drain. He proceeded to become a successful General Practitioner in Hanwella.
Here, he joined the Lions Club to support the local community.
The last time
I met HN was when RS Jayatilleke invited a few batch mates to his house for
drinks and dinner. This may have been over “20 years ago. HN was broader than
before but he had a full head of curly hair lightly greying at the edges. He
was his usual self, full of wit and humour as we reminisced our time together
in Kurunegala.
He was an
inspiration to work with, and a joy to be near. In the end, what gives a life
meaning is not only how it is lived, but how it draws to a close. HN had a
quiet and peaceful end to his life. He would live in the hearts and minds of
everyone who knew him.
May he attain
the Ultimate Bliss of Nirvana
Razaque
Ahamat
Because of our surnames, “A”, we sat together at lectures, weathered the storms of the signatures and revisals and endured the hardships of those clinical appointments. We both lived in Wattala and travelled daily by train from
Hunupitiya to Maradana in carriages packed like sardines. During those years, what stands out is his helpful kindness, his great sense of humour and his charming, convivial nature. All through those years in the Faculty he enjoyed
life to the full. He joined in the many dances, Colours Night and Block Nights
that brightened up our lives. Razaque was often one of the last of the
stragglers to leave King George’s Hall at the break of dawn.
He had many
stories to tell which he related with a slight lisp which enhanced the
narrative. He said, with a murky smile, he descended from the Royal family in
Penang. Fact or fiction, we will never know just like the other hilarious
stories in his repertoire. Razaque brought happiness to our lives at the
Faculty when the atmosphere was stuffy and toxic.
Razaque was appointed Consultant Haematologist at the Royal Victoria Hospital, Dundee in Scotland. He served the hospital with distinction and took early retirement after which he worked as a Director of the Transfusion Services in New Zealand. He was greatly respected for his work in the antipodes. His work included much air travel visiting hospitals in the North and South Island. After several years in New Zealand, Razaque returned to Dundee to be with his close family. He and his wife, Farina, created a wonderful garden and enjoyed looking after his plants. We spoke often on the phone, reliving those happy days in the Faculty, of mutual friends and of studies together. Razaque had many cardiovascular problems that needed prolonged care and supervision. He accepted the privations and hardship gracefully and without complaint. We were fortunate to experience his wonderful self-deprecating humour on the blog for several years. He took a liberal and cosmopolitan view of life. When speaking about religion or life, it was often hard to make out if he was joking or serious.
Those who attended the London Batch Reunion in the 1990s will remember Razaque proudly wearing the Scottish kilt with a knee-length skirt and long, thick stockings. This
costume suited the big man to a tee.
‘Inna
LillahiVa Inna Ilaihi Rajioon’
“From Him do
we come and unto Him do we return"
Zita
Perera Subasinghe
After the great dispersal from Kynsey Road in 1967, it took a further 48 years to see Zita again. This time, she was with her husband, Joe. They both seemed jolly and
lively. Mahendra has kept in touch with
Zita, and we all met up at Côte Brasserie off Oxford Street in London. It was
2015, and we had all retired from our professional lives. This was a remarkable
bonding and there was so much closeness and intimacy despite the passage of
years. We retraced our lives since medical school. I remember the clarity with which Zita related the story of her life, work, and family to this day.
What stood out was how happy she was with her life. Zita was delightful
company, always spoke kindly about people, and there was never a harsh word.
Zita was very
keen to meet the batch-mates and joined us in all the Mini London Reunions that
were organised by Pramilla Senanayake in 2016, 2017 (one in Spring and another
in the Summer), 2018, 2019 and January 2020. At each one of those, she walked around the tables to speak with everyone with such grace and charm. In September
2018, Mahendra arranged lunch at Satay House for Rajan Ratnesar and his lovely wife, Queelan. They had arrived in
London from California. Zita and Joe
arrived like Royalty in a plush chauffeur-driven limousine all the way from
Southend-On-Sea. This was a brief encounter, but we had a most memorable
afternoon.
To live the
life you want to is such a rare, brave and inspiring gift. To persevere and
live it with dignity and peace is something to be greatly admired. Zita, you
have achieved your goals better than most. It has been a great privilege to get
to know you and thank you for being my friend.
May her Soul Rest in Peace
Priya
Gunaratna
In the
Faculty many of us were mesmerised by her graceful ways and stylish good looks.
Like the rest of us Priya suffered the ‘indignities’ of rags, signatures and
the revisals in the “Block” and took it
all in her stride. All through those gruelling years in the Faculty she
conducted herself with dignity and was well liked by everyone. In all those
years her thoughtful kindness and simplicity shone through.
In 1967 we
met again in Kurunegala doing those arduous tasks of internship. We worked
together in the Children's Ward with the
Paediatrician Dr Chandra de S Wijesundera (who later married our batchmate
Manel Ratnavibhushana). There, I got to know Priya more closely, sharing the on-calls and other onerous tasks of a busy unit. While at work she had the
great ability to remain calm and in control.
She showed tremendous kindness, courtesy and patience towards the
children in her care and also to their worried parents. I recall Priya had great empathy for the poor, simple rural folk of the wanni who sought our help. She remained a reliable,
unpretentious and hardworking colleague throughout. The passion, integrity, and professionalism Priya showed during the internship was a beacon for us all. She was indeed a very special person.
Priya was
witty and warm and had a tremendous sense of humour. Despite the hard work, we shared amusing anecdotes of day-to-day life in the house officer’s quarters and laughed a lot. What was most striking about Priya was that she never had a
harsh word for anyone.
We said our
goodbyes in June 1968 and parted. She left Kurunegala for a job in Colombo and
finally found her niche in Family Planning.
There again she showed her professional skill, expertise and attention
to duty. Until her retirement she became one of the king-pins and driving
forces of that organisation.
Priya was enthusiastic about the batch reunions and get-togethers. She organised such events and remained a live wire throughout the proceedings.
I never saw
Priya for many decades until we met by sheer chance in the lobby of the
Cinnamon Grand Hotel in September 2012. She had come to take ‘Patas’ Ratnesar
for tea to her own home. We had a bear hug and a long chat about old times. She called me to join them for tea, but sadly, I had another engagement. Then she
looked lovely and charming as ever. When we said goodbye, I somehow felt this would be for the last time, and I was overcome by emotion. At the time, I knew about her long battle with cancer, which she had accepted with characteristic grace. Priya endured her final illness
with much courage and great dignity. I feel greatly privileged to have known
her and worked with her. We will treasure our memories of her zest for life and
the many good times we shared with her.
May she find the ultimate Bliss of Nirvana
J.C Fernando
Janaka
Chandana Fernando (J.C)– the name raises a smile on everyone’s face. He is a
force of nature that brings happiness to everyone around him. Gregarious,
sociable and flamboyant are all descriptions that come to mind to portray a
person whom we have all come to know and love since our medical school days. He had
that irrepressible bohemian flair which was associated with medical students of
the 1960’s. In our citadel in Kynsey Road no one epitomised the era more than
JC. He enjoyed its trappings abundantly. Being from that great institution,
Royal College, he knew the large contingent from that school that filled our
batch and almost filled the rest of the Faculty of Medicine. JC became a part
of the Faculty sooner than most.
Many will
remember JC arriving at the Faculty cycle shed every morning in his Honda 50
motorcycle. The Canteen was his first port of call for the customary Tea-Punt.
He was a popular guy in our batch and spoke with everyone and was friendly to
all. With his affable ways, JC made friends with the girls more easily. This
made the rest of the boys envious. JC was never shy to speak his mind and with
his loud voice he stood out in a crowd. Born to blush unseen, we always made
fun of his jet-black skin which he accepted with civility. For his regal
demeanour, I often called him the ‘Dark Knight’. All through medical school he
wore white shirts and trousers. This enhanced the contrast no end.
He had
tremendous enthusiasm for the social events in medical school. Being a fine
musician, many of us got to know JC at the social functions. We sang and danced
at the memorable and raucous evening booze-ups in the Men’s Common Room. My
abiding memory at these events is the lithe figure of the ‘Dark Knight’
strumming his guitar, singing in graphic detail the itchy tale of “the dance of
the phthirus pubis”. His signature song was “Saima cut wela”, a tragic tale of a
beginner’s hangover and an effective home remedy. He sang “Suranganee-ta malu
genawa”, tempting fate long before they became a pair!! Those songs have never
left my recall. As I listen to them now on YouTube, I’m transported to those
happy days of our youth. He was ever-present at the dances held at the King
George’s Hall of the University’s Science Faculty, twisting the night away to
the music of the Harold Seneviratne Combo. Those evenings generated much gossip
and scandalous tales of adventures. He capped it all with an enduring
contribution to the Final year trip, making the days brighter and the nights
merrier. This will remain a special memory.
In the rigid
and grim environment of medical education, the Men’s Common Room was our refuge
from the storms of life. I can still picture JC in that setting with a fag
between his lips, holding a cup of tea. He joined in the billiards, table
tennis, carrom and the never-ending chit chats. He was an entertaining talker. If the truth be told, he could be prickly and argumentative, and there were frosty moments too. All through medical school my memories of JC are of a
colourful, jolly guy ever ready for a chat and a laugh. He could talk about
anything and everything. I associate him with much of our faculty jargon like
‘tea-punt’ and ’pol-mess machang’ and numerous vivid unprintable expressions
delivered with a mischievous smile. These words he used frequently and to great
effect. I could still picture him walking the long corridors of the GHC greatly
animated, waving his arms and relating a story. His tales were peppered with
esoteric facts and his own brand of humour brilliantly embellished for good
effect. I loved listening to his tales no matter how outrageous. Whether one
agreed or disagreed with his views he presented them in such an amusing manner
he could even make nonsense sound like a genuine and alluring revelation.
We all miss
JC
May he attain
the Ultimate Bliss of Nirvana
Tudor
Wickramarachi:
He was rather
restless and intense as a medical student. He always gave as good as he got. I
also remember his ebullient and exuberant personality and his zest for life.
Tudor and I worked as surgical interns and endured the punishing schedule of
hospital medicine together. Amidst the brief tantrums, awful puns and risqué
humour, Tudor showed great empathy and tremendous kindness to his patients,
staff and colleagues. He was a loyal friend but was never inhibited by
sensitivity or shyness when it came to expressing his own opinion. Although occasionally boisterous, he was
mostly gregarious, genial and generous. I visited him when he was DMO Dambulla.
Call it ‘oriental lavishness’, the bottle of amber nectar appeared before I sat
down and to this day remains a blissful memory of a well-lubricated evening.
When we met again in London he was much subdued and a reformed family man. I
nearly fell off the chair when he refused a drink. Tudor became a respected Pathologist
in Bristol. He sadly passed away while doing what he loved best – playing golf.
A life well lived but taken far too soon age 66.
May he find
the ultimate bliss of Nirvana.
A.Satchithananda
Ever curious, he was cultured as he was
intelligent. We played table tennis and carrom in the Faculty Common Room and
over cups of tea put the world to right. He later emigrated to the USA. We were
both Apple Computer buffs. In those early days they were disastrously
unreliable beasts. We tried hard to make sense and keep them working.
Although not a Christian he listened
every Christmas to the Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols sung by the Kings
College Choir in Cambridge on Christmas eve, broadcast at 3pm GMT which he said
was a ritual since his schooldays.
When Satchi was at the height of his fame
and success as a Paediatrician in Wisconsin, he walked away from the profession
due to ill health. His journey through life was filled with sadness and tragedy, but he always managed to smile and joke with his friends. I remember well
his charm and intellect. We met up in an Indian Restaurant in London in the 1990s and enjoyed lunch and exchanged gifts. His present to me was a
Gorecki’s 3rd Symphony, a deeply sorrowful piece of work. Understandably, the
events of his painful past and his own illness had a devastating effect on his
life and personality. Despite this, he maintained his dignity and composure, remaining a loyal friend to the end. He indeed stood above the common
herd.
Auf wiedersehen my friend.
Asoka Wijeyekoon alias “Lubber”
I have recently written a tribute for him
on the blog and will briefly describe it here. He was one of my closest pals and one that
I miss a great deal. Meeting him even as an octogenarian, the conversation was always current as he was well-informed. He expressed his views and opinions
without fear or favour and brought a good deal of lateral thought to any
discussion. I sincerely hope one day we will meet again in another realm.
Perhaps it is au revoir and not goodbye. I know he will have a lot to
say about that, too.
