The wistful musings of a reluctant émigré
By
Dr Nihal D Amerasekera
It
has been a cold and wet winter in London. As I snuggle-up in my rocking chair
to write my thoughts I can hear the wind howling outside. The raindrops are
carried horizontally by the strong south-westerly wind battering the window
panes and dripping down in torrents.
I
still have grateful memories of a happy 12 years at Wesley College. The school
on Karlsruhe Hill was established with missionary zeal and some colonial vigour
but it catered for all Ceylonese. The school became the cradle of
multiculturalism. Protected from the polarised world outside, it remained
secular and was driven by merit. Since the very beginning, Wesley has strived
hard to become a modern, forward-thinking school. The school has a strong
record of academic achievements and a full programme of wider life activities,
including the arts and sports.
The
school’s sesquicentennial anniversary has come and gone. One hundred and fifty
years of life of a school is a huge achievement in this era of survival of the
fittest. Longevity arises partly from good fortune but mostly from sustained effort.
I left school in April 1962 to seek that elusive fame and fortune. They both
have eluded me since!!
I
was unable to attend any of the functions and events of this great occasion. Living in London, the journey, including a long flight, was too arduous to attempt. Age-related infirmities have caught up with me. I have done the next
best thing, to watch on social media the unfolding of a prodigious chain of
events. There weren’t many from my generation present as some have departed
this world. The dinners and dances were vibrant, colourful and full of fun. The
young enjoyed it to their hearts content. Many of my contemporaries boogied the
night away taking longer breaks to catch their breath. There is a message in
all this. Do what you can when you are fit and able.
The
camaraderie was there for all to see with smaller reunions and gatherings prior
to the main dinner and dance at the Shangri-La Hotel. When old boys come
together, they move into recollection mode, recalling those beautiful, quirky
moments of their youth. There is never a dull moment. Voices are imitated, mannerisms
mimicked, and idiosyncrasies enhanced. Long forgotten episodes of school life
suddenly spring to mind, bringing laughter, affection, and sadness. As
the wine and conversation flowed, they are transported back many decades
bringing forth those warm feelings of the lost years. The last to leave often
provided a lusty rendition of the old school song.
We
spend our formative and impressionable years at school. It has created an
Aladdin's cave of wondrous memories. The sands of time have moved on as I have
progressed from youth to middle age and beyond. Those memories of friends and
fun seemed to be stored and archived to last a lifetime. The stored memories
resurface each time I visit the old school and walk the long corridors again. The
Great Hall is a remarkable place for nostalgia. When I sit in silence beneath the
high teak ceiling surrounded by gorgeous Victorian stained-glass windows, the school
song seems to resonate in the distance. It is not easy to hold back the tears. The
intensity of the occasion is often overwhelming. As I live so far away beyond
the horizon, this for me is a special treat.
It
was cricket that unified us all. Playing and watching the game was one of the
most enjoyable things of my time at Wesley. A tangle of emotions tumble through
my mind as I reflect on watching cricket under the mara trees at Campbell Park.
For the students at Wesley College, Campbell Park has been the cradle of all
sports. But the school has never owned the park. It is on a short lease
reluctantly extended, each time, by the Colombo Municipal Council. During the
Anniversary Dinner at the Shangri-la, successive speakers pleaded with the
President of Sri Lanka, who was an honoured guest, to handover the park to the
school. It is true these are not issues that could be resolved over dinner. The
promise was to say “I will see what I can do”. However, we can but dream of a
good outcome.
We
all hate change and often hear the laments "the school is not what it used
to be" or “It is not as good as it was”. This is more a nostalgic vision
of a mystical, non-existent past. Schools are places of endemic change. Every
year new students join and those who have left go farther on life's journey
outside the school gates. We must change with time. The school has changed and
have done so maintaining our links with our glorious past. We have kept the old
traditions whilst embracing the innovative and modern. Rejuvenation and
modernisation are a continuous process. It would be dismissive to say that the
changes thus far have procured no benefit.
Since
my time the landscape surrounding the school too has changed beyond
recognition. The narrow Baseline road of my day of Morris Minor cabs and red
Leyland buses has given way to a busy dual carriageway of faster traffic. The
view of the Welikada Prison and its perimeter fence seem to be unchanged. Being so close to the prison for over a
decade I had often peered into the distance allowing my mind to wander inside. For
many of us the prison is a dark and mysterious place. Very few knew what
happened behind those grim iron gates. To us the inmates were criminals, desperate
and dangerous. Being a place of punishment, the isolation and the years of
incarceration was a burden to endure. The humiliation, suffering and the lack
of privacy must have been soul destroying. The solitary confinement could have
broken their spirit. At the end of their ordeal how on earth did they face the
world again?
While
living abroad it is much harder to keep abreast of all the changes taking place
in an ever-evolving school. Much of the lawns, shrubs and trees have
disappeared to give way to the new buildings and a swimming pool. Although
these changes were needed, to old fogeys like me it seems like a desecration of
what we knew and remembered of the old school. I wish I could turn back the
clock, just for a brief moment, to enjoy what it was like in the 1950’s to see
the well-manicured lawns and the colourful flowers in pergolas. The flamboyant
trees in full bloom in the month of May was a sight never to be missed.
In
this fractured and troubled world, what we seek more than anything is a sense
of belonging, a feeling that we are part of a community of like-minded souls.
Despite this it is ironic how many of the rising generation of students after
having received a fine education, leave the school never to set foot on those
hallowed grounds ever again. It amazes me that even those old boys who live in
Sri Lanka and some living in Colombo have never been to the school premises as
past students. In the endless whirr of 24/7 life of the 21st Century it is
perhaps easy to forget our formative years. Some must have jolly good reasons
to do so.
The
school has thus far survived the rapids of two destructive World Wars and many
political and economic upheavals. I shudder to think what the next 100 years
will bring to the school and to us humans. With artificial intelligence there
may not be a need for a school!! People will most certainly live longer and may
even emigrate to distant planets. With the current trends and the serious consequences
of global warming, there are doubts about the existence of life on our planet
that far ahead. That distant future is beyond anyone’s comprehension. Meanwhile,
let us take care of our planet and be happy and content with what we have now.
Note from Speedy: There were a total of 166 in the batch (including 11 who came from Peradeniya). There were 107 gentlemen and 59 ladies (including 4 from Peradeniya).
