Asoka Wijeyekoon's Funeral Ceremony

Asoka Wijeyekoon's Funeral Ceremony 11th Feb 2024

At Jayaratne Funeral Hall on the opposite side of the  road from Borella Kanatta entrance

Pictures extracted from Live broadcast on YouTube.

REPORT: From Srianee Dias. (Thanks very much for sending this report- Speedy)

“Just returned from Aśoka’s funeral ceremony.  Pram, Lama and I were the only ones there.  I got a chance to talk to Sanjaya and Bhatiya, who seemed to be very nice guys.  They have been checking the blog and were very appreciative of the comments, Nihal’s eulogy and your (Mahendra’s)  ‘Ode to Lubber.’  Sanjay read the Ode!  He suggested that friends and relatives should visit the blog!!!  We may have people from Australia and UK checking in!”

 

Asoka Wijeyekoon passes away. Eulogy by ND Amerasekera

Asoka Wijeyekoon passes away

We have lost another Batch colleague

News has reached us that Asoka “Lubber” Wijeyekoon passed away in London in December last year. He is the 53^rd in our Batch to do so.

During his visits to Sri Lanka, on a few occasions he has joined Pram’s get-togethers at her residence and this is from a photograph taken at one in 2019.

Please read message from his son Sanjaya.

We like to extend our deepest commiserations to his family. May he Rest In Peace. 

Stop press: Message from his son Sanjaya whom I contacted.

He died in London at st Bartholomew Hospital on the 22nd December. He was on a short trip to London and promptly went into heart failure on arrival, was admitted to cardiology, started to develop some tachyarrythmias and then attempted an emergency pacemaker but sadly went into cardiac arrest on the evening of the 22nd and died. We only got to see him briefly before the event. He had a PM unfortunately as the cause of death was uncertain and was cremated in the UK. My brother is coming with his ashes to SL and we planned a small ceremony here as per his final wishes. I’m sorry we did not have everyone’s contact details but I messaged Professor Lamabadasuriya and also emailed the 62 medical school group. We are holding a small ceremony at Jayaratne funeral hall on the opposite side of the  road from borella kanatta entrance on Sunday the 11th February at 10 am. We have a video link too for those who cannot attend but would like to view the proceedings  

Here is the link:- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pwqKomz9Z-M

I think this is on 11th Feb, at 09.00 am SL which is 03.30 am UK

Click on it on the day.

I think his two sons, both medical Consultants in the UK are Bhatya (Rheumatologist) and Sanjaya (Colorectal surgeon). I am grateful to Nihal (ND) Amarasekera who wrote this beautiful eulogy at very short notice. 

Asoka Wijeyekoon – A Tribute to my friend

By Dr Nihal D Amerasekera

Friendships are one of life’s golden gifts. Those made in our youth are specially gilded to last a lifetime. It is hard to replicate that closeness in associations later on in life. In our life’s journey we find friends who walk with us a short way and move out of our sight. 

This is a eulogy for Lubber and also an appreciation of our friendship of many years. After five gruelling years in medical school we worked together for another four years in the Central Blood Bank in Colombo, a large slice of our young lives. We managed to hang on to our friendship despite the distances, careers, family commitments and the many bouquets and brickbats of life. It is indeed a tribute to our friendship. 

I recall most vividly the legendary Law-Medical, the intrusion into the cricket match at Reid Avenue and questioning the umpire. The gory details are best forgotten and buried deep. I am certain a résumé is analysed and remembered at reunions and gatherings after a generous dash of the social lubricant. 

Final year trip Kurunegala? Badulla? Igloo" HO's quarters.
 Lubber is squatting behind Lakshman Jayasinghe and Yankee Bala

At our final year trip, Lubber’s memorable performance took centre stage. In the chill night-air he wore just his tie and nil else. When asked who he was, he said “I am Argyle Robertson’s pupil”. Even now, this legendary moment never fails to raise a smile. That was a fitting farewell to a journey none of us will ever forget. When this episode was mentioned previously, Sanath Lamabadusuriya commented this took place in Kurunegala and not in Badulla, as I recalled. I would most certainly trust his memory more than my own. 

My first meeting with Lubber in med school was perhaps unremarkable, hence lost in the fog of time. I do recall Sunil De Silva’s long tale of how  his classmate from Royal College ,Asoka Wijeyakoon, came to be called Lubber. It seemed Asoka’s teenage swagger on terra firma was like that of a sailor. The term ‘land lubber’ was shortened to lubber. Although most plausible, Sunna’s stories were told with a poker face blurring the fine line between fact into fiction. Despite being at either end of the alphabet we met up in the common room for a tea and a chat. The common room was a very special place for us medical students. It was our own retreat and shelter from the storms of Faculty life. I have often watched him deep in thought over a game of chess with Satchy. He joined in the conversations with his endless stream of wise-cracks. Listening to the repartee between Chanaka Wijesekera, Sunil De Silva and Lubber Wijeyakoon was spontaneous comedy at its best. It moved from the ridiculous to the farcical. The ‘one liners’were brilliantly intelligent and hilariously funny. Those were indeed touches of genius taking the noble art of comedy to a whole new level. I wish we had smartphones to record those treasures for posterity. Their quick wit and humour must swirl in the ether of that common room. The Faculty years passed swiftly. After the ‘finals’ we were thrust into the lions’ den of the wider world. Then marriage and careers usurped our lives. None of it was easy!!

I was thrilled to see that familiar swagger entering the Central Blood Bank in Colombo when I was a Medical Officer of that institution in the early 1970’s. We clicked instantly. I was then a drifter at a loose end and was grateful for his company. I do recall our evenings at some of the popular bars discussing philosophy, politics and religion. Those were heady days of idealism, ambition and youthful optimism. There were occasions I joined Lubber for company in his blood donation programs in the out-stations. One that stands out is a trip to Galgamuwa on the road to Anuradhapura. We stayed at the DMO’s quarters as he was away. Emptying his fridge of the amber nectar we chatted deep into the night when we heard a group of girls singing “Oyathamai Bamba ketu ekkana”. In our inebriation they sounded like a choir of angels. Then again, we spent a memorable evening in the verandah of the Nikeweratiya Rest House polishing a bottle of Molasses discussing the world, politics and our ambitions and aspirations. These images still haunt me.

I recall the dark days of 1960’s and 70’s with sadness. Sri Lankan politics was in turmoil. The economy was in a perilous state. Our lives and careers were at a standstill. I remember it so well. Mahendra Gonsalkorala, Lubber and I debating the pros and cons of leaving Sri Lanka. We couldn’t see an end to the political and economic crisis that crippled our country. They were emotionally charged discussions that left us in a wilderness of confusion. After much deliberation we joined the rest of the herd for greener pastures abroad. Although I had agonised about it, I never realised the enormity of that decision. My youthful exuberance protected me from the fear of reality. 

I was immensely fortunate to have Lubber to travel with me to the UK. We boarded the Swissair DC10 and comforted each other until our transit at Zurich. We were dying for a beer. Money was in short supply and we had to syndicate to share a bottle that calmed our nerves. After a change of plane we disembarked at Heathrow airport. I can still remember that cold and wet June afternoon in 1974. There on the concourse of the airport we said our goodbyes and parted company. Lubber disappeared into a Psychiatric Hospital in the heart of Sussex. I started my journey in Pathology in Chase Farm Hospital in Greater London. We kept in touch and met up a few times. Each time we had some drinks and listened to our favourite Sinhala music of Victor Ratnayake which brought back fond memories of our final few years in Colombo. To be frank it was a tough time for us in the UK too. As we drowned in our careers and family obligations there was hardly any time to keep up with friends. There were long periods of silence and we never met on our journey up the professional ladder. When I went into the abstract world of Radiology, Lubber became a respected Consultant Psychiatrist in a London Hospital. 

It was a couple of decades later I met Lubber again this time in his pad in London when he cooked a meal for me and my family. We talked a lot about times past, of mutual friends and the pleasures and perils of life. After we parted our contact remained an occasional phone call, out of the blue, and a warm query on how life treated us. It was a shock to our system when our children left the nest. He is rightly proud of his two sons who are Consultants in the National Health Service. 

The years rolled by as retirement loomed. Our careers ended as it started with uncertainty and some trepidation. The next I heard of Lubber was when he left the UK. A little birdie told me he was living it up in Bangkok and spending his retirement in ‘well earned’ luxury. No doubt it’s everyone dream to be happy. I thought I had lost contact completely until one day, on a whim, I used an old phone number and sent him a message on WhatsApp.  A few days passed and to my surprise I got a reply. His messages were brief and always after a prolonged latent period. 

In May this year I booked a family holiday in Bangkok. Lubber now spends time in Colombo and Bangkok. He made a special effort to be in Bangkok during my visit. He invited us to stay with him in his condominium. Getting into a taxi and finding a location in Thailand is fraught with difficulty due to language problems. Never being a part of the British Empire, Thai people do not speak much English. We felt it would be best to meet near my hotel. It was such a pleasure to see him again, a little more grey and more rotund than I knew. He decided to stay the night at my hotel in the best top floor room. We started a drink in his room and caught up with the lost years of friends, family and our life’s journey. Lubber is tremendous company with or without a drink and has retained many of his formidable intellectual gifts. As always after a drink his wit and humour takes over. We had a fine seafood dinner followed by more drink and chat. Unlike the hard-nosed yours truly, Lubber has a certain empathy for the less fortunate and the downtrodden. He rewarded the waiters and waitresses most generously.  We parted company not knowing if we would ever meet again. 

 After several months I was pleasantly surprised to hear from him in London. He was staying in a hotel near Moorgate where we decided to meet. It was wonderful to see him again. Lubber is as always upbeat about life but very aware of the ironies, mirages and illusions that we all must face. Now more than ever life’s oases and their many pleasures drift past us far too quickly. We spoke for just a couple of hours as he had to take a taxi to Heathrow Airport for his return to Colombo. As I think about life, I am convinced more than ever, our lives are a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, within an enigma – to misquote Winston Churchill.  

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.  

May he find eternal Peace.

 

The song "The Last Farewell" by Speedy

The Last Farewell- Mahendra's version and interpretation of a classic song by Roger Whittaker

Mahendra "Speedy" Gonsalkorale.  The lyrics appear at the end of the post.

I give my own imaginary interpretation of this sailor being an English sailor who fell in love with not only a girl in Sri Lanka, but with the country itself. The backing track from Smule Karaoke is the Elvis version in a different key but basically the same. You can watch it in window below or click on the YouTube link to see it.

Many colleagues have asked me to post another musical production of mine and I am obliging!

Released in 1971, this iconic song tells a story of love, loss, and the bittersweet farewell of two souls. Whittaker’s soulful voice and heartfelt delivery make this song a classic that continues to resonate with listener.

The lyrics of The Last Farewell paint a vivid picture of a sailor bidding farewell to his beloved as he embarks on a perilous voyage. The song explores themes of longing, separation, and the inevitable end that awaits their love. It evokes a sense of melancholy and nostalgia, reminding us of the transient nature of life and the fleetingness of meaningful connections.

Roger Whittaker drew inspiration for The Last Farewell from his own experiences as a sailor during his youth. He wanted to capture the essence of love and longing in a heartfelt song that resonated with his personal story.

While The Last Farewell is not based on a specific true event, it encapsulates the universal emotions experienced by sailors and their loved ones when facing separation. It draws on the collective experiences of sailors throughout history.

I gave my own imaginary interpretation of this sailor being English and who fell in love with a girl in Sri Lanka

“For you are beautiful, and I have loved you dearly
More dearly than the spoken word can tell”. 

His love was not just for the girl, but for the country.

Background

Roger Henry Brough Whittaker (1936 – 2023) was a British singer-songwriter and musician. He is best known for his baritone singing voice and trademark whistling ability as well as his guitar skills.

Whittaker was born in Nairobi, then in British Kenya, to English parents. His father was injured in a motorcycle accident and the family moved from Staffordshire to a farm near Thika, Kenya, because of its warmer climate. His grandfather sang in various clubs and his father played the violin  Whittaker learned to play the guitar on an instrument made for him during WW2 by an Italian Prisoner of War.

Whittaker moved to Britain in September 1959 to continue his teaching career. He studied at the University College of North Wales and obtained BSc degree.  He Sang in local clubs during this time. He said later that "I guess I was an entertainer who was a biochemist for a while, rather than the other way around".

In 1975, EMI released "The Last Farewell", a track from Whittaker's 1971 New World in the Morning album. It became his biggest hit and a signature song, selling more than 11 million copies worldwide.

Whittaker's father never forgave his son for abandoning a medical career, and their differences were never resolved. His parents attended none of their son's concerts and refused to participate in the episode of This Is Your Life when he was the subject.

 After living in Ireland for some years, he retired with his wife to France in 2012. He died in a hospital near Toulouse on 13 September 2023, aged 87.

Whittaker hosted a radio programme in The UK, backed by an orchestra with arrangements by Zack Lawrence. Roger Whittaker said, "One of the ideas I had was to invite listeners to send their poems or lyrics to me and I would make songs out of them. We got a million replies, and I did one each week for 26 weeks. Ron A. Webster, a silversmith, sent Roger Whittaker his poem entitled "The Last Farewell," and this song became one of the selections to appear on the radio program. It was recorded and sold and became one of the fifty all-time singles to have sold 10 million or more physical copies worldwide. The single reached the Top 20 on the Billboard Hot 100 Chart, peaking at number 19 in June 1975, the only single of Whittaker's career to appear on the Hot 100.^] The song first hit the Canadian charts in November 1974 and peaked at number 64 in December. It then re-entered the charts in April 1975.

The response in America led the single to success in other parts of the world, including the United Kingdom, peaking at number 2 on the UK Singles Chart. It was kept from number 1 in the UK by Rod Stewart's "Sailing", resulting in an oddity that the top 2 longs in the UK singles chart at the time had a nautical theme. "The Last Farewell" also went to number 1 in 11 other countries, selling an estimated 11 million copies worldwide, making it Whittaker's best-known song.

The Last Farewell has been covered by numerous artists over the years, including Elvis Presley, Anne Murray, and Nana Mouskouri. Each rendition brings a unique interpretation, showcasing the song’s timeless appeal.

Footnote: The lyrics

There's a ship lies rigged and ready in the harbor
Tomorrow for old England she sails
Far away from your land of endless sunshine
To my land full of rainy skies and gales
And I shall be aboard that ship tomorrow
Though my heart is full of tears at this farewell

For you are beautiful, and I have loved you dearly
More dearly than the spoken word can tell
For you are beautiful, and I have loved you dearly
More dearly than the spoken word can tell

I heard there's a wicked war a-blazing
And the taste of war I know so very well
Even now I see the foreign flag a-raising
Their guns on fire as we sail into Hell
I have no fear of death, it brings no sorrow
But how bitter will be this last farewell

For you are beautiful, and I have loved you dearly
More dearly than the spoken word can tell
For you are beautiful, and I have loved you dearly
More dearly than the spoken word can tell

Though death and darkness gather all about me
And my ship be torn apart upon the seas
I shall smell again the fragrance of these islands
In the heaving waves that brought me once to thee
And should I return home safe again to England
I shall watch the English mist roll through the dale

For you are beautiful, and I have loved you dearly
More dearly than the spoken word can tell
For you are beautiful, and I have loved you dearly
More dearly than the spoken word can tell

 

FOREVER 62 GROUP JAN 2024– MESSAGE FROM PRAM

FOREVER 62 GROUP – MESSAGE FROM PRAM (and help with posting a comment)

scroll down to the last photo to see the posting comment help)

Welcome to our visitors Jimmy and Kathy Wickremasinghe, Harsha and Harshi Boralessa, and Srianee “Bunter” Dias.

The Forever 62 group met for lunch at the usual venue, the Library, Cinnamon Grand Hotel, on Saturday the 20^th of January 2024. We were so pleased to have Jimmy & Kathy Wicks, Harsha & Harshi Boralessa & Bunter join us in addition to the usual SL based crowd. ( Chira, Lama, Senarath, Owlie, Bandula, Kusuma , Swyrie, Gita, Suriyakanthi and Sura). 

As usual we had fun reminiscing about Medical College days. Lama has a super memory recalling events and anecdotes that  mere mortals like me have long forgotten. Chatting while savouring a 6 course lunch of Tempura to Grilled Moda; Passion fruit sorbet to Sechuan Prawns and winding up with Garlic rice green chicken curry and Baked Alaska.  I hope you enjoy the photos and thanks Speedy,  for putting this on the blog. 

Warm regards

Pram

Added on Monday 29th January

POSTING COMMENTS

This is from a message I sent to Pram, who had problems with posting comments. I hope it will help.

1.To post as for example, for me "Mahendra (Googe) to appear when trying to post a comment, you need to have a Gmail account. For Manel for example, it could appear as Manel(Google)

2. When you try to post a comment using your laptop or mobile, always login to your Gmail account first. Don't worry if you don't have one; you can always post as Anonymous, as shown below.

3. Then open the tab for the Colombomedgrads blog site

4. Now, if you want to comment, go to the post you want to place a comment on and click on comments, (it may appear like 6 comments if, for example, already there are 6 comments.

5. Go down to "Enter comment". Click on that and it will respond with “Comment as (with the name of the person logged in, my case it is Mahendra (Google) with a small triangle next to it. Click on the triangle arrow and you will see “Select profile-
Mahendra
Anonymous
Name/URL.

Select Mahendra (Google) - (in your case, it may be Pramilla (goggle)- (or whatever name you gave in Gmail ).
6. Now click on Enter comment. I entered "Test for Pram as an example.

If you want to be notified that you have sent a comment, click on the “Notify me “ box. When you click on that, you will get a message that “Follow-up comments will be sent to psen13@gmail.com"

Now click on the blue box with “Publish” in white letters.
It will then say “Publishing”, and your comment will appear.

If you have not logged into your Gmail first, your Name (Google) won’t appear. You will then need to choose Anonymous, and I recommend starting by saying who you are- for example, “Hi, This is Pram,xxxxxxxxx, etc. Otherwise, people will have to guess who “Anonymous” is!

ALWAYS login to your Gmail account, and while it is open, move on to the Colombomedgrads site and then try and post a comment.
I presume you are using a Windows computer. With Apple Macs there are problems I am afraid.

My general advice is for you to write your comment at first, either on Word or even a draft email addressed to yourself and then copy the comment to the Blog from that so that if for some reason the comment "disappears" without appearing, you will have the draft as a backup.

METHOD OF KNITTING A CARDIGAN- Chirasri Jayaweera Bandara

METHOD OF KNITTING A CARDIGAN

By Dr. C.D. Jayaweera Bandara

I followed the “Knit an Easy Button Cardigan” by Ashley Lillis

The following are the items used:-

The lower left are the Circular knitting needles (where they are joined by a transparent cord) 

This was not available in Sri Lanka and was brought from the USA. 

Yarn is at the top. This too was brought from USA.

The tapestry needle is on the lower right.                                    

The 4 Marker rings are in the lower middle.

 

 

                   The Cardigan was started with only 40 stitches as shown below.

 

In the next row, the 1^st  Marker ring was inserted after the 1^st stitch,  (shown on the left side of the photograph below), the 2^nd  Marker ring after the 8^th stitch, the 3^rd Marker after the 32^nd  stitch and finally the  4^th Marker ring was inserted after the 39^th stitch as shown below. 

 

 

 

The stitches are increased as knitting goes on.

The 1^st stitch will grow to become the Right front, and the last stitch will grow to become the Left front.

The stitches between the 1st Marker and the 2^nd Marker will grow to become the right sleeve.

The stitches between the 2^nd Marker and the 3^rd Marker will grow to become the back. 

The stitches between the 3^rd Marker and the 4^th Marker will grow to become the Left sleeve.

                                                           

 Following the instructions, the cardigan was knitted 14 inches from the neck downwards to armpit length. 

 

 With the help of the Tapestry needle threaded with black yarn, the stitches between the 1^st  Marker and the 2^nd  Marker were taken into this. This will continue as the right sleeve and will be left aside and done later. 

Similarly, the stitches between the 3^rd Marker and the 4^th Marker were taken with another piece of black yarn. This will continue as the left sleeve and will be left aside and done later. 

At this stage the knitting has been done down to the armpit  length from top. The stitch before the 1^st Marker and the stitch after the 2^nd Marker were connected. Similarly, the stitch before the 32^nd Marker and the stitch after the 39^th Marker were connected.

 

I did not take photographs as I had no idea of publishing this. I will show photographs taken from the YouTube giving the instructions.

The blue yarn holding the stitches will grow into the Right sleeve later and  left aside for a while.

The stitches between the ends of the two needles shown above were connected under the armpit. Similarly it was done on the other side.

 

Next the Right front, the back and the left front of the cardigan were knitted for 14 inches from the armpit.  

 The above YouTube Photograph show the blue yarn at the armpit level in the left sleeve on the right side of the photograph.

At this stage knitting has been done right down from the neck, the left front, the back and the right front. The lower edge margin too has been done.

 

Next the right front edge, up to the neck edge, round the neck edge and down to the left front edge will be done.

When doing the front right edge button holes are made.

Buttons are fixed after doing the left front edge accordingly.

 

Next the sleeves are done down to 14 inches. When doing the edges two stiches are taken at a time to have the sleeve edge narrower.  

 

 Below is a Photograph of the Cardigan being knitted by me.

        

                                    These photographs show the completed Cardigan.

 

                                                    

Photograph below……..I am wearing the Cardigan I knitted for my daughter.

 

I knitted this Cardigan for Anjali my daughter, who is in the UK for her one year 

overseas training after obtaining her MD Ophthalmology in Sri Lanka.

I am thankful to her for getting me this website and also for getting the necessary items. Her friend sent the Circular knitting needles and the Yarn from the USA.

 

 I will be sending this Cardigan to her in January.

 

I was at a loss when I stopped doing surgery and Anjali introduced me to Cross stitching first and later to Painting by purchasing all the items necessary for the above two. I am very thankful to her for helping me with these.

 

I wish her all the best in UK and I am awaiting her return to Sri Lanka. 

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.

Some trimmings from my tonsorial adventures by ND

Some trimmings from my tonsorial adventures

by Dr Nihal D Amerasekera

The human hair grows from cradle to grave. The need to maintain its length existed since the beginning of time. Two statuettes from the Ice age dated 30,000 BC called the Venus of Willendorf and Venus of Brassempouy, show features of hairstyling and braiding. The earliest record reaches back to the bronze age when they used sharp instruments to resize the hair. Hair cutting and styling were well-established in Egypt and Ancient Greece. Barbering evolved further until the Middle Ages when religious clergy took on this work. With the haircutting, they encroached on human surgical procedures and also dentistry, pulling out teeth. Apparently, this shocking practice went on for 6 centuries. As the disastrous results of human surgery became commonplace, news of its tragic consequences reached the Vatican. This barbaric practice was then banned by a Papal decree. Thankfully, barbering and surgery went their separate ways, never to meet again. In the 21st-century hair cutting and styling is a prestigious occupation. Nowadays, it is done with great care and consideration, for which they charge a small ‘fortune’. 

The hairdressing world is renowned for its gloss and glamour. The Salons are mostly unisex. The modern salons and the industry have evolved to care for the lady’s hair which they do with great expertise. With the variety of services available for the ladies that is where the salons make their money. Men’s hair is mostly confined to a haircut. Hence doing men’s hair is just a job that needs doing and is never as lucrative to the Salons. For vanity or sanity, it is the youth of today that keep the barber shops in business. 

With my Christian upbringing, human hair is a reminder of that Biblical story of Samson and Delilah. It was made into an epic film in 1949 by Cecil B DeMille and Paramount Pictures.  I well remember seeing this film in the Regal theatre starring Victor Mature and Hedy Lamarr. Samson had immense strength and could kill a lion with his bare hands. The story was that his great strength lay in his long hair. Samson was seduced and betrayed by his lover, Delilah, who got one of her servants to cut his hair while he was asleep. He then lost all his strength. Samson was blinded and imprisoned. Later his hair regrew and regained his strength.  Samson lost his life in the destruction of the temple when he and Delilah were buried beneath the rubble. 

My earliest recollection of a hair cut goes back to the late 1940’s. I was living with my grandparents in Nugegoda which was then a small town. As a 5-year-old, I held on tightly to my grandpa’s hand as he walked me along High-Level Road. I was curious but also unhappy. Grandpa bought me some sweets. The barber shop was a tiny shack with a revolving door. I can still recall the rapid clicking of the barber’s scissors and the sights and smells of that small salon. I was bitten by hordes of bed bugs and returned home itching the back of my thighs which turned into angry red blisters. We never went there again. 

Much of my school years were spent ‘incarcerated’ in the college boarding. In those days school rules were harsh and draconian.  Long hair was taboo. The haircuts were done by a visiting barber. This was performed in the open air on a Wednesday, after school, in the cycle shed. We wrote our names in his book which gave us the ‘batting order’. The barber was a law unto himself. He never asked any questions and cut the hair as he wished. We could recognise his handiwork easily as all the boarders had ‘military’ haircuts showing the scalp that glistened in the sunlight. 

I was a medical student at the Faculty of Medicine, Colombo, in the 1960’s. Money then was tight. The parental monthly remuneration was never enough. In those distant days Punchi Borella was a place for the trainee barbers to perfect their skills. This was performed under the shade of a spreading Banyan tree. There was a generous offer of a free haircut to those who dare. The victim had to hold the mirror himself to see their handiwork. The crows above were a menace. The customers and the barbers were constantly bombarded with their excrement.  Some said, “the crows provided the Brylcreem”. The clicking of the scissors was their sign that action has begun. They hadn’t yet mastered the use of the scissors and the scalpel. If you walk out with your ears intact you’ve done well. Although I was greatly tempted to try my luck to tide over the financial crisis, I didn’t want my hair vandalised. Good sense prevailed, but I remained an occasional spectator of this amazing spectacle. 

During those busy years as a medical student, an elderly betel-chewing barber in Borella came to my rescue with budget haircuts. Always with a mouthful of betel he did not speak much. Despite his silence, he had the ability to radiate friendship and kindness with a broad smile showing off his red-coloured mouth and stained teeth. Squinting through his small circular glasses, he added some elegance to my hair. Sadly, his days ended when he developed mouth cancer when I was in my final year. I felt the shock deeply. The old man’s demise detonated my finances only to be rescued when I received my first pay as a medic. A princely sum of Rs 450. 

Hairdressing is not an easy profession. They have to be psychologists to understand what the client wants. “I want it short” could mean many things. Getting the message wrong can be disastrous to the client and the hairdresser. To my great delight barbers are inveterate talkers. Usually, it’s idle chitchat. When their hands are busy their tongues are hardly ever still. This can get them into serious trouble too. My current barber once worked for an upmarket lady’s hair salon. He did a haircut and colouring for a posh lady with ‘difficult’ coarse black hair. At the end of the process the lady wasn’t happy with the final result. She refused to pay and made an awful lot of noise about it. This angered the hairdresser. He blurted out the well-known aphorism “I’m only a hairdresser, not a magician, so please lower your expectations.” This upset the lady. The hairdresser had to leave his job. 

After I emigrated to the UK I lived in Wood Green in North London. In the 1970’s this was the enclave of Greek Immigrants. I went to the local Greek barber in town. He was a kindly, verbose, elderly man who chatted incessantly about his childhood in Athens. He recalled the hustle and bustle and the good times growing up in that ancient city. The barber had a multitude of medical complaints from pain in his brain to bleeding piles. He asked for my views of the diagnosis and treatment for his diverse conditions. While I tried to make sense of his many health problems, he took good care of my hair. Although I paid full fare for his services, he got his medical advice free of charge. 

For over three decades, I lived in the leafy suburb of Letchworth in Hertfordshire.  In this quaint little town, I went to an Italian barber. He was in his early forties and spoke English with a charming Italian accent. He was a walking encyclopaedia of Roman history.

His detailed descriptions and wonderful narratives brought to life the grandeur and the many tragedies of Roman history. I still recall his stories most fondly. He charged me for the hair cut but the lessons in history were complimentary. 

After retiring from all professional work, I returned to live in London. I have used many barbers in the city. The nearest was an émigré from Hong Kong. After the former British colony went back to Mainland Chinese control some residents were unhappy. My Chinese barber expressed his displeasure about the politics in his country and swivelled the scissors aggressively as he lost his temper. My other barber is an Egyptian who had similar issues about the Middle east and the plight of the Palestinians. A hair cut is a good time for an exchange of views. I have always been a good listener not wanting to upset the barber with my personal views. After all the barber had all the necessary implements to cause serious damage to anyone crossing his path. 

Many hairdressing salons in the UK provide special dispensations for senior citizens. They are offered discounted haircuts. I have made use of this privilege often. On one occasion, I found that my usual hairdressers were busy. I ventured further to find a large salon in a posh part of the city. As I stepped in, I was simply mesmerised by its elegance. This was the crème de la crème of hair salons. The guy who ushered me in said this was a one-stop beauty shop providing cuts, colour and styling, complete with hair and facial massage and also a blow dry. He said the price starts at £100. This was a far cry from my usual £15 no-frills haircut. He showed me the seat where I would be indulged and pampered for an hour. The chair was fit for a Prince. The hairdresser wasn’t surprised to hear from me that I was a pensioner in search of a cheap haircut. He politely ushered me out into the afternoon sunshine. It was much later that I learnt this was a flagship salon frequented by the rich and famous. 

The Covid-19 epidemic hit us all like a tsunami. With the lockdown we were housebound for months. As all human gatherings and meetings were discouraged. Barber shops were closed for business. Many electric shavers, cutters and trimmers were sold on the internet for would-be DIY barbers. There were detailed visual instructions on YouTube how to cut your own hair with an electric hair trimmer. I viewed many of them and bought a machine but lacked the courage to use it on myself. A wrong move can have such ominous consequences!! The task to keep my hair under control fell to my dear wife who did so without much coaxing or complain. I had the traditional short back and sides with a trim at the top, in my garden, under a blue sky and a gentle breeze. 

Hairstyles have played a significant role in men’s fashion, changing and evolving with the passing of time. The side parting and the crew cut of the early 20^th century gave way to many variations and to the more recent spiky hair. With all the past trends and modern innovations, we must find the perfect hairstyle that suits us. Unlike for the lucky ladies, for us men hair cutting will always remain a necessity until the end of our lives. After all, when the hair stops growing, nothing ever will matter anymore!!