Plus - Appriciations

On the fateful day of July 31, 1999, my beloved malli, your voice was stilled forever. You were far more than just a brother to me – you were my best friend of my childhood, my partner in mischief and my trustworthy confidant.

Everyone knows what a brilliant soldier you were. Your motto was “no surrender, no retreat”. You were loved deeply and your leadership qualities were greatly admired by all. Your demise was a great loss to the army and to the country and the void you created in the hearts of your loved ones can never be filled.

Though you were wounded on the battlefield several times, you fought on injured – never for once thinking of your wellbeing, but facing the hardest challenges with valour and determination. You were short tempered at times but your short temper lasted only for a few minutes and you had the ability of apologizing to people instantly. You never held grudges against anyone. Loving unconditionally and unselfishly came naturally to you. We miss you everyday but think fondly of all the happy memories and laugh and smile thinking about all your antics. Though you left us seven years ago you are very much alive in the hearts of all your family, friends and fellow servicemen.

Darling malli, may you attain the noblest bliss of Nibbana.

To many he was ‘Uncle Sinniah’ or ‘Brother Sinniah’, friend, ever present partner in prayer; comforter and encourager; problem solver; administrator and consultant. Yet I had the greatest privilege of calling him and knowing him as ‘Dada’. It is hard to believe that already a year has passed since we laid Dada to rest.

I remember clearly that sad, rainy day when the heavens wept as his mortal remains were lowered to the ground. I just could not bring myself to throw that handful of sand on his casket as is the tradition. In my heart, he is not buried down there, but still alive and very much a part of our lives. I hear him in every prayer, in the strains of a familiar song, in my thoughts and in my children.

I know for sure Dada would want me to thank all of you who visited and comforted Amma in prayer during this one year she spent without him. She was his greatest treasure. He would also want me to thank the staff at Lakeside Medical Centre, Kandy who attended on him and made him as comfortable as possible during those last weeks.

He would have wanted me to profusely thank my sister Sharmini and her husband Alfy for the tender loving care and many comforts they afforded him those final months in Digana.

He would have clasped his hands together and prayed for all those who cared for him and visited him and wept silent tears for him. I cannot remember a day he did not pray for someone. He would have been greatly humbled and thankful for all those who had gracious words to say about him. He would have smiled and nodded and understood those who criticized him; and then prayed for them too.

He would have been grieved at the senseless violence in his motherland. He would have rejoiced at Sri Lanka’s victory over England in the recent cricket series. He would have cried with joy and pride at our children’s achievements. He was intricately but unobtrusively woven into our daily lives. How much we miss him is beyond words.

What he has left behind is a challenge. He taught us that there is contentment in humility, hard work and in the simple things in life. He taught us that although this world is full of trickery, it should not blind us to what virtue there might be in people. He had the wonderful knack of finding something good in the worst of people. I still marvel at the way he knew each of his children’s weaknesses and strengths and dealt with them accordingly. There were five of us. He was superman to his grandsons and a defence lawyer to his granddaughters. They found great comfort and strength huddled in the warmth of his embrace.

His prayers were the wind beneath our wings. Although we struggled to stay aloft after his absence, whispers of his prayers are still carrying us through. We thank God for the life that Dada shared with us, selflessly.

Darling Dada, may you find some comfort in the arms of angels.

I am greatly saddened by the loss of my dear friend Maleeha.

I knew Maleeha for over a decade. During those years we used to meet at least once or twice a month at our writers' meetings. She was a stalwart of both the Wadiya Group and the English Writers Cooperative of Sri Lanka.

In her quiet way Maleeha always produced the most wonderful stories, full of human interest and humour and written with an exemplary flair for the English language. She attended our meetings regularly and contributed a piece of writing unfailingly at every workshop. I could picture her now, impeccably dressed, greeting us with her cheerful smile and then entrancing us with one of her stories.

Her book Dance of Life which won many awards, is a fine example of her clear understanding of the techniques of the short story, and the stories themselves reflect her deep perception of human behaviour.

Recently Maleeha and I got to know each other better when she undertook the Editorship of Channels, a literary journal published by the English Writers Cooperative of Sri Lanka. I was very much impressed with her sense of responsibility and dedication.

Her sensitive nature made her grateful for any minute speck of help and often she would call me just to thank me for some suggestion or bit of advice I'd given her.

She had the gift for making friends and in her unassuming manner she accepted people for what they were and not what she thought they should be.

I am sad that I was not able to visit her in hospital, as she had wanted me to, as I was out of the country at the time. Still, my thoughts and love will always be with her and I am truly thankful to her for sharing a part of her life with me. My heartfelt condolences and prayers go out to her husband and family at their irreparable loss.

It is July. There is yet another memorial lecture to celebrate Neelan’s life.

As those of us who knew him, and yet others for whom he will always remain only a name, celebrate his life, we need to ask a few questions. Maybe one pertinent question is - how does one view Neelan’s tragic death?

Being the type of worker I am, we are trained to question not only why did a person die, but ask as to how one should face death - how to handle and manage?

However, Neelan’s death being a part of violent Lanka, I presume one should delve deep into that untimely end.

Given the complexity and the deep-rootedness of the national problem of Sri Lanka, one needs, in the name of Neelan, to challenge those responsible for that death. Did those who made it possible for Neelan to leave us in that violent manner achieve the cause of liberation?

I am sure that they were liberated in a sense by the death, violent at that, of a voice that was different from theirs. Neelan’s death once again symbolized the refusal to celebrate and cherish and cultivate diversity and pluralism.

Is the solution to the national problem, violence?

The culture of 'an eye for an eye' and ‘a tooth for a tooth’? Does not this culture of violence perpetuate violence and not really liberate the people for whom one is supposed to be fighting for?

These are hard and difficult questions. But they must be asked as we celebrate the life and work of Neelan, our friend.

For Neelan, too, in his own way, wanted to liberate his people. His way was different. For that, he paid the supreme price of a tragic death.
May he know true liberation.

A telephone call from the late Rohan Amerasinghe's wife, Lekha, reminded me that it is two years since the sudden death of this most genial of hoteliers.

Rohan Amerasinghe was not just a hotelier, though, he was irrepressible hospitality personified; and he was a good friend.

My first encounter with Rohan was about 20 years ago when, as a young man, he was presiding over the then Galadari Meridien's French-style, fine dining rooftop restaurant. I thought he had been trained in France, so well did he play the part of making guests feel welcome.

It was a trait I came to recognise in him during our occasional encounters over the next two decades. He loved to involve himself whole-heartedly in whatever he was doing.

He worked hard and success came quickly as he dedicated himself to a career with John Keells Hotels. He took on the challenging role of setting up the Keells Hotel brand in the Maldives, turning their first two resorts into top-grade properties. Keells has been able to build well there on the foundations he laid.

He became director and General Manager of Bentota Beach Hotel and once again used his charm and mixed his customary magic to restore that hotel to its former glory after refurbishment.

Because he had started at the bottom of the hospitality ladder, Rohan knew every trick of the trade and understood staff problems.

So, while he was sympathetic to staff concerns and would do all he could to support his staff, he expected - and received - dedication and loyalty in return.
There are hundreds of people working in resorts in the Maldives and in hotels in Sri Lanka who learned a lot from Rohan. Even my own house staff did, as he would dive into my kitchen when he came for a visit and show them how to prepare a snack to go with drinks on the veranda. He was a man of enthusiasm and candour, but he knew how to act the diplomat too.

One of his last major promotions was the Beach Derby at Bentota with horseracing on the shore and a sumptuous barbecue.

As with everything Rohan did, it was a hugely successful event that made all associated with it feel proud of their achievement. Rohan was promoting Keells Hotels in England when he died suddenly, leaving an utter void in the lives of his wife, Lekha, and daughters, Nirmani and Sammani.

Rohan Amerasinghe represented genuine goodwill and warm, sensible friendship. If those who knew and worked with him remember - and follow- his example, Sri Lanka's hospitality industry can only improve and flourish.