By Kumar Gunawardene
MIDDLE SCHOOL
Bora joined us that year in the Lower Fourth. He arrived from
the preparatory school, a cherubic lad with a mischievous streak. He was bold
too and did not hesitate to make a stand. When asked to donate a book for the
class library, he protested that as a
boarder, he was unable to do so. My contribution was the novel Pepiliyane
Kumaraya” the prince of Pepiliyana. He promptly named our head master Mr
V.P. Cooke Pepiliyane Kumaraya as he resided in that suburb. Our class master Mr
D..N. Pereira was tall, immaculately
dressed and his shoes were polished such that one could see one’s face in
them. His nickname was Bulto because he
munched this sticky black sweet after meals.
Bora was a boarder for most of his days at STC. They considered
themselves, with some justification, a superior species; different anyway. Some of
our best sportsmen were boarders. Cricket was an exception. Academically the day
scholars excelled; interestingly Bora also shone in studies only after becoming
a day boy.
VPC had been a good wielder of the willow and was an equally
good wielder of the cane. An unforgettable incident was when a gang of us were
summoned ,on a complaint by a younger boy.He was lounging in the chapel gardens when set upon
by this clique.He protested that some boys had touched his “private parts,” the
first time we had heard that term.VPC knew my father well and was astonished to
see me amongst this lot.I said sir I was in the periphery and not had any
physical contact ,intimate or otherwise.I was excused ,but a few others
received,six of the very best.
Next year in the upper fourth(seventh standard) Bora and I sat
in close proximity leading to greater rapport.I was seated ,with two of my best
mates in the last row and Bora was just in front of us .Sadly,my two mates are
no more,but I think of them wistfully from time to time.JN was gentle,good
humoured easy to please and laughed readily.He and I shared a love of books and
he made me join the Companion book club of Britain.We had to buy one book
monthly ,and browsing these gave me long hours of pleasure.I would curl up in
bed with a book and a supply of peppermints and read ,till darkness fell or the
supply of peppermints was exhausted.
My other desk mate PN was riotous and daring but would stick up for his friends
always.One day, he stealthily,tied a creeper on the belt of a master.This
,particular creeper had a flower the shape of a small bird.Since our not so
esteemed master’s nickname was cock c....y our classmates couldn’t stifle their ill timed It laughter.Eventually, the
cause for the mirth and the culprit was discovered ,and the miscreant was duly
rewarded with a resounding slap.
Bora that year got a Royal Thomian match ticket ,to an
exclusive enclosure.He would gaze at it lovingly ,and touching it reverentially
,would dream of the the pleasures he would relish at the Wanathamulla Oval.One
day,the ticket went missing,but being an astute sleuth ,he soon discovered it
in his desk mate’s bag.After retrieval he gave the mate a thundering blow.What
followed was excruciatingly funny.The mate removed his glasses,folded them
neatly,placed them on his back pack all in slow motion and returned the favour
in full measure.Few days later they were the best of friends.
Twice a week we had Latin classes conducted by our Warden.His
arrival was preceded by a slowly advancing wave of silence,culminating in a
deathly stillness when he stepped into the class.We were in awe of him as of no
other,but he was a good teacher ,and I still have some Latin.
Many years later my brother and I and our spouses met him at
Ella where he was spending his retirement in the annexe of a cousin.We got to
know this genial lady while travelling by train.She was the wife of our late
professor of forensic medicine.We were invited to high tea and afterwards had a
cordial chat late into the evening.The warden appeared to have shrunk a little
,but was amiable and delighted in our company.It was indeed an honour to sit
with this great and good man, who guided our school so wisely through a world
war and many other crises
My ebullient uncle Amitha Abeysekare relates of the time he
met the Warden long after he had left school.AA had sheepishly asked him “sir
can you remember me.”;the startling reply was,Amitha,remember you, I have been
trying to forget you for the past twenty
five years.”
The next year the fifth form (eighth standard ) was housed in a classroom which was right at
the end of the the building on the ground floor.It was a very tranquil spot
adjoining the the chapel garden and beyond a high wall was the ‘KurunduKelle or
the cinnamon grove.
The events and the boys were far from tranquil however.The
first was the repeated disappearance of the detention book.One of our teachers
devised the scheme of Wednesday afternoon detention for minor offences.This
outraged us as we all looked forward fervently for this mid week break.Our hero
was more infuriated than the rest of us and with meticulous planning removed it
from its stronghold.This was a bulky diary which ,the master ,said would last
several generations.A new book was substituted ,and it met the same fate.This
was repeated many times and eventually the authorities backed off.There was no
CCTV then and our hero still remains nameless. but has attained mythological
status .
The second was the
recurrent descent of the class cupboard from vertical to the horizontal.Every
Friday afternoon ,when all was quiet ,and watched by an enthusiastic coterie of
followers ,our hero would slip into the classroom and topple the furniture.On
Monday mornings,there was pandemonium as the boys would refuse to jump over,
the fallen item and thus would gain a
quarter hour of merriment instead of dreary lessons.
The third was the episode of the‘Infamous Hoot’ Our geography
master was a man of generous proportions and was affectionately called Bada
P......Being an ,only son living away from home , he was the regular recipient
of sweets and other foods from home.One day ,the driver arrived in the middle
of a class and Bada P went across to collect his gift.One of our good mates
,let out a piercing yell “Ado Bado” through a grill. His fury knew no bounds and after chastising
us for being ignorant louts with no breeding and of uncertain parentage he
picked on Bora to mete out appropriate punishment.Bora pleaded with his mate to
own up .The mate who was one of the brightest and the best amongst us and who
went onto become a top legal luminary in the land,bided his time.Next day he
went up to the master and owned up.As our friend had anticipated the master’s
anger had subsided and the apology was accepted .His correct reasoning was that
if he had admitted to the offence immediately, he would have been roundly
thrashed.
UPPER SCHOOL
It was a time of achievement,but also a time of
disappointment;a time of joy and a time of despair.A time for consolidation of
friendships fine and free.A time for fun and frolics to be cut down and time
for concerted study to be boosted.
One of our classmates Geoffrey died from a rapidly fatal
illness,in the Lower Sixth.He was only fourteen.To us whom death was a distant
concept,this was a heavy blow.We grieved silently with his close knit
family.His brother who became a colleague at medical school ,wrote to me”Not a
day passes,without my thinking of him.I cannot get over why this happened so
early in life to a near perfect human being.”
The Upper Sixth (SSC) life and times were dominated by one man
LGBF.He was our class master and also the maths teacher.His ambition was to
produce the best results in the country,and he did succeed.In our year ,we had
eighteen distinctions in maths and twelve first divisions.Bora and I were among
the select few.This came at a cost though and we had to sacrifice our weekends
and holidays for additional classes.No thoughts were spared for his sacrifices.We were given astronomic
amounts of homework.The only means of coping was to copy from a mate who completed
the sums diligently everyday.LGBF got wind of this and surprised us in the
act.All including the good hearted lad were despatched to the warden for
flogging.
Some unkind boys said his real aim was to be the warden
someday.which unfortunately was denied to him
.He curiously tried to teach us a Dutch baila to be sung at
the big match.We being perverse ,continued with the ballad of the “Randy
burgher boy who seduced the daughter of the surgeon next door.The surgeon
neutered him and he thus was subjected to the ridicule of all and sundry.”
Our favourite master was the English teacher Mr Senaratne .
Sena papa as was affectionately called inculcated in us a love of prose and
poetry , of words and witticisms ,proverbs and aphorisms and much more .He
generously bought with his own funds schoolboy magazines like Champion, Eagle and many more.His room
was lined with tall bookcases filled with the best of English literary works.;
a favoured few could borrow some tomes..Thus was born our life long tryst with
English literature.
In the College Forms ( University entrance) cricket competed
with studies to the detriment of the latter.I was not successful at the first
attempt to enter Medical school,partly due to two debilitating illnesses
,Paratyphoid and infectious hepatitis.Bora passed at the first attempt;he was
now a day scholar and more attuned to studies.
My mother sensing my distress took me to weekly bana
preachings by an erudite monk. Parly due to that and partly due to long evening
walks on the beach ,I was able to regain equilibrium and qualify the next tIme.
It was now time to come out of the cherished cockoon and walk
out into the hostile world.We despaired at the very thought of abandoning,the
much adored playing fields, the noble edifices,the sylvan groves and the majestic
trees.But most of all the trusted comrades who traversed with us the long road
to young adulthood.
They are ,the
“ Guardians of our memories
Keeping our youth and
yesterdays alive,
Comrades with one
history.”
Adele Faber
