Many tributes have been and will be paid to H. L. de Silva, P.C., whose mortal remains were interred on April 11, rest of his bones and souls delivery. This little tribute might have remained unuttered except that his wife Manel, daughters Nilmini and Lakmali, and grandsons Sanjeev, Rajeev and Krishan, all of whom HL loved dearly and devoutly, would like to know something of what a fellow worshipper at the Mt. Lavinia Methodist Church remembers over the last several decades.
Remembrance is fondly summoned up of H. L. and Manel walking up the aisle to take their seats in the second row of pews on the right, bowing their heads in silent prayer, and then preparing to spend the next hour in silent adoration of the almighty God we worshipped together. H. L., we knew, was a young Crown Counsel in those days of early memory but he did not know us.
For, that is the way with those whom everybody knows and those whom nobody knows. He was Church steward and at the appointed time walked from pew to pew with the collection bag. We saw him seated round the vestry table with other stewards totting up the offerings for the Sunday, as part of their stewardship.
The months and then the years passed by, and there was a breaking of silence and a narrowing of distance when from time to time at gatherings outside the service of worship such as nativity plays, retreats, wedding receptions, celebrations of one sort or another or fellowship teas, we sat in close proximity and eventually next to H. L. Methodists are fond of such occasions of fellowship.
A kindred spirit of self-consciousness and reticence on his part and mine seemed to draw us to each other. In fact, Manel some years ago managed to persuade H. L. to join in a Methodist retreat in a Negombo Hotel by the sea on the assurance that he would have my company, my wife having cajoled me to attend. These were opportunities for both of us to unwind and for long chats on many matters, the Bible, politics, the past and the future. The morning began with a walk on the beach in silent meditation.
What was most rewarding was to find H. L. seek us out in the church lawn at the end of Sunday service at Mt. Lavinia and ask, Whats happening? The question invariably referred to the political situation, which in those years too looked and sounded volatile, unsettled and uncertain. Changes of government, upheavals and all manner of confusion were in the air. Mischief was afoot. Listening to him was an educative experience and others of the congregation wondered as they passed by what our animated talk was about. Such was the question my wife asked me on our way home.
A young lawyer living in our neighbourhood, who used to visit us on Sunday evenings, envied me that an ordinary mortal such as his host, only a teacher as many were wont to say, should have the privilege of knowing and conversing with Sri Lankas greatest constitutional lawyer. An envied privilege it undoubtedly was to have known H. L. Our visitor was denied that privilege.
We shared in the honour fittingly accorded to H. L. when the former President Chandrika Kumaratunga appointed him Sri Lankas Permanent Representative to the United Nations. His absence during that phase from the little church on the hill was sorely felt but Manel wrote a regular newsletter giving us all the information we yearned for.
Once on a flight back from Australia where he and Manel went every year to be with their daughters, H. L. had a harrowing experience. He had had a urine infection and writhed in pain through the long flight from Sydney. Manel took him straight to hospital from Katunayake. Emergency surgery was done. He arrived in Church many weeks later, restored to health, and under the weeping willow outside the church, he described his ordeal to me.
During H. L.s last illness, we sat at his bedside one morning at de Alwis Place. He was physically worn but mentally as alert as always and cheerful. He bore his illness with stoic resignation but also pondered his fate. The conversation was as before on a range of current matters and of the human condition. He was overjoyed that Peradeniya academic Professor G. H. Peiris had volunteered to edit and prepare for publication his magnificent collection of writings and speeches over the years. That volume Sri Lanka: A Nation in Conflict was launched a few months before he was called to rest, a lasting monument of the thoughts of a great mind.
At de Alwis Place, our thoughts flowed back to the day he celebrated with friends the award he received of Deshamanya. We also remembered his fortieth wedding anniversary celebration, the invitation to which, said No presents, only your presence.
The Mt. Lavinia Methodist Church down Hotel Road has always been a small church but enriched by H.L. It has now become immeasurably smaller. Diminished. The memory of H. L, however, as a perfume will remain in the pew he occupied with Manel, on the floor tiles (among their many donations to the church they loved) and under the weeping willow where we descanted and yet again descanted.
Farewell, H. L., Sir.
S.N.C. |
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