Appreciations
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Ashley Wijesinha
Ashley Wijesinha who livened up the Sunday Times Subs Desk, especially on deadline-frenzied Saturdays, for a long time, passed away on January 15. He was 84 years old.
Ashley was laid to rest at the cemetery of the beautiful and imposing Holy Emmanuel Church in Moratuwa, at sunset, after a grand send-off with the Dead March being played in church and his cortege being led by two flag bearers, one carrying the Salgado family flag (his wife belongs to the well known Salgado clan in Moratuwa); a fitting tribute to a man who was loved by one and all. I could imagine Ashley watching it all from a side with that impish smile of his.
Ashley was one of the older generation fountains of wisdom at the Subs Desk, especially when it came to historical facts, geography and place names. Instead of referring the imposing Survey Dept. map of Sri Lanka, that stood tall at the Subs Desk, the younger subs would holler out to Ashley for clarification of place names. A meticulous and hard working sub editor, Ashley was one you could always rely on. With an eye for spotting many a printers’ devil, he was unofficially the ‘obit man’ too, as he would make it a point to carefully scan the obituary notices before they went into print to see that all was in order, sometimes going that extra mile of calling the household of the deceased to clarify a name, address etc.
Aside from being the committed and knowledgeable journalist that he was, Ashley’s small frame and knack of blithely making utterances, that were invariably given a twist by some of his colleagues, made him an easy target for bullying; all done in harmless jest, of course. I would be the school ma’am pulling them up asking them to show respect for Ashley’s age and seniority, but he seemed to enjoy the banter, and fooling around that brought out the kid in him.
His mop of hair and agile ways belied his age and he was a great believer in the difference between a person’s biological and chronological age. He enjoyed hopping a bus from Moratuwa to office until ill health forced him to come by cab to work. These trips by bus were not without their share of excitement and he would invariably regale us with stories made up of his observations on fellow commuters in addition to zeroing-in on pickpockets.
He loved to take an occasional trip down memory lane, and one of his favourite stories of growing up in Kandy, during World War 11, was how he and his siblings would take a peek at big-made Afro-American soldiers bathing butt-naked at a neighbourhood well. He would recall this incident on and off with childlike glee and a chuckle. And I would say, “I’ve heard that story so many times Ashley.”
Another was of fond memories of his days in Pattipola, when his father was stationed there as Station Master. For a long time Ashley’s office desktop image was one of a mist-covered Pattipola railway station.
An aficionado of old classic films and one with an eye for beauty, Ashley had a few on screen and off-screen ‘goddesses’too.
Dear old Ashley, although you had to stop working due to ill health more than six months ago we would still keep in touch with an occasional telephone call.
Now, you are no more and all of us will cherish those happy memories when you were an integral part of the Subs Desk.
Rest in peace, dear Ashley.
-A colleague
Dearest friend, reviver of the Malay language
B.D.K. SALDIN
Years ago, my dearest and oldest friend BDK and I had a tacit understanding that the survivor would sound the last trump after the other crossed the river of no return. I now fulfil my sad duty as “Time’s winged chariot” has carried him away. It was 72 years ago, in 1946, that we first met, slightly nervously, at Royal College where we had just been selected to sit the University Entrance. He came from Kandy’s Kingswood College while I was from Ratnapura’s Sivali Vidyalaya. The strange chemistry that bonded us together from that first meeting – lasted till a few weeks ago when fate snapped the thread that had bound us for so long.
It was fortunate that both of us lived in Maradana and could walk together to the “Aes Waattuwa” bus stand that took us to Royal. We had a lot to talk about – adjusting to our new school, its sophisticated ‘true-blue’ Royalist classmates (unlike us provincials) , the ‘three bread and parippu’ lunch at the Tuck, clumsily drilling with the ‘awkward squad’ of the non-athletic and our always interesting teachers. The most interesting was the handsomely Mephistophelian Dicky Attygalle who taught us English so memorably that his unforgettable reading of poems long resonated in our memories and sprinkled the verses we later regaled each other for many decades.
On February 4, 1948 both of us stood together by the decorated old hangar, crowded with VIPs, and watched the solemn final lowering of the Union Jack and the proud hosting of Ceylon’s Lion flag to the throbbing of ‘magul bera’ .
A few weeks later we joined the first cohort of undergrads of Independent Ceylon, stepping into the ‘campus’ of Thurstan Road that embraced us for the next few years. BDK joined the University’s Union Hostel on Guildford Crescent. It was only much later, when I read his memoir ‘Portrait of a Sri Lankan Malay’, that I realized the trauma he underwent when he left the comfort zone of a traditional Malay home for the irreverent and raucous camaraderie of a University hostel.
Our first two years were fun – new friends and the raucous revelry of Society elections. But we were extraordinarily fortunate. Professor Ludowyk picked both of us from his English students to act in his latest DramSoc play. The DramSoc was much envied as a venue for chatting up girls, as fellow actors or ‘camp followers’.While I had a minor role, BDK landed a plum role, opposite legendary Jeanne Pinto and Osmund Jayaratne, as a rapacious Chinese landlord in Brecht’s “The Good Woman of Setzuan”. It was a colourful production with magnificent costuming and sets designed by producer Ludowyk’s wife, Edith. BDK was most imposing as he spouted his lines clad in a glorious brocade robe and drooping moustache.
Fortune smiled on BDK in 1950 when lovely Sheila Drahaman stepped out from ‘Merdeka’, her uncle Dr. Drahaman’s home – on the same road where stood Union Hostel.It did not take long for my friend to saunter alongside her on their way to ‘Varsity. The romance thus begun lasted almost 60 happy years.
BDK’s father T.R Saldin, the first Malay in the prestigious Ceylon Civil Service sadly did not live to savour the success of his first-born son.After graduation he worked briefly at a few jobs. One was at the Indonesian Embassy where he learnt the culture and language of his distant forbears. When Sheila graduated they lost no time in getting married – and I had the honour of driving the groom to the ceremony. He soon realized the need for professional qualifications and decided to head for the discipline of Accountancy which he had briefly studied in the University. This meant full-time study – a tough task for a married mature student. Sheila ‘man’fully rose to the occasion. She was a graduate teacher and became the breadwinner of the household till her spouse qualified as a Chartered Accountant. His steady rise to the top rungs in the mercantile sector is too well known for me to write about.
Around this time he lost his only sister, tragically young, after a brief but happy marriage and motherhood. BDK and Tuna, his younger brother, were now the last of the tribe. Tuna was in the first batch of undergrads who entered the new University at Peradeniya. My brother Somasiri was also among these freshers and his friendship with Tuna cemented our link with the Saldin clan, that spanned generations and has lasted to this day.
BDK’s and Sheila’s first home was an annexe in the sprawling mansion ‘Taprobane’ built in Lunawa by the prominent Malay citizen of yesteryear, M.K.Saldin,to house his descendants in happy harmony. I thus came to know many Malay families – the Drahamans, Lyes, Sallys. Cuttilans, Raheems, Laksanas and others. They now became parents of Reemu and their home was a friendly place I visited off and on, especially for the feast of Ramazan. Meanwhile, I had joined government service that moved me to many towns. Before long I followed the Saldins into happy matrimony and parenthood.
Perhaps the best period of this life was when I was Government Agent of Trincomalee and the Saldin family came on holiday. We sailed in a friend’s yacht to Pigeon Island and had sing-songs round a bonfire in The Residency garden. Our life in the provinces now ended and we moved to Mount Lavinia. The Saldins had built their fine home in Ratmalana, not very far from us. And our friendship flourished as our children grew up as ‘born friends’. We went on joint holidays to Diyatalawa and Yala. It was then that BDK and I began writing light verse to each other on our birthdays. Not all of them are on record but I’ve managed to retrieve a few. Neither of us claimed greatness .Thus, in my poem “To a Friend of Fifty Years” I described ourselves –
“Lives of middling celebrity
Attendant lords, supporting actors
Watching in the wings while great dramas unfolded centre stage”
Thus we greeted each other on our birth anniversaries, with wistful melancholy, as we sensed the shadows gathering ever nearer after we lost dear Sheila a few years ago.
Retirement inspired BDK into a study of the culture and language of the Sri Lankan Malay community. He embarked on research in a discipline far removed from the Economics of his University studies. He shared his knowledge in his writings. His “A Guide to Malay” is a Government approved text book. His other publication “Sri Lankan Malays and their Language” was a fine introduction to the general reader. At my urging BDK rose to the occasion and wrote his fascinating “Portrait of a Sri Lankan Malay”. He became an internationally recognized scholar of Malay studies in Malay Language Conferences and the International Council of Malay, Kuala Lumpur where he presented many papers. He also collaborated with Dr.Lisa Lim in producing the “Concise Sri Lanka Malay Dictionary”’.
BDK also played a leading role in Malay social and cultural life. He held many positions in the Sri Lanka Malay Association. He participated in radio and TV programmes to popularize the Malay language and conducted a project in teaching adults to read, write and speak Malay. His hands-on contribution to the revival of the Malay language has been unparalleled.
He was always proud of being a Malay and of his Sri Lankan identity. Proof is found in his last publication the scholarly “Sri Lanka Malay-Sinhala Dictionary’’ , a joint effort with famed Professor of Sinhalese Dr.Vini Vitharana. It was launched shortly before the 90th birthday he just missed. He was also awarded a plaque of recognition for his achievements by the Alumni Association of the University of Colombo.
I conclude this tribute with lines from the last ‘poem’ I wrote to my dearest friend
“..so to us this ode is sung
Of our seventy years of a race well run
As we totter towards the setting sun”
- Tissa Devendra
She was a model of patience
FORTUNE VIRGINIA GAUDER
My wife Virginia (Ginny) passed away on November 18, 2017, a victim of the dreaded cancer. She was operated for stage 3 ovarian cancer in October 2016, and we did everything we could to no avail…she passed away at the Maharagama Cancer Hospital and was interred at the family burial grounds at Madampitiya on the 20th. We had celebrated our 35th wedding anniversary on the 11th of June 2017.
I met my wife in 1980. We got to know each other and fell in love.My parents vehemently opposed this liason, which only strengthened my will to continue. I visited her home often, and being a hotelier, she was advised not to associate with me.I don’t blame them. Despite all the adversity, she stood by me through thick and thin. We were married in June 1983, had our first child in May 1987 (a daughter Ashanti), and our second (a son,Wiranga) in Dec 1991.
I’m a stickler for being methodical: if a pen, eraser, or whatever is taken in the home, it has to be returned to its original position.In most instances it did not happen, and I would blow a fuse.Through all these tantrums she would keep her cool, not uttering a word, until I realized how stupid I had been.
Long after the dust had settled, she would tell me very politely, ‘You could’ve said it in a more subtle way’. Patience is a virtue with which she was gifted in abundance. The children are now 30 and 26, our daughter is now a mother of a seven-year-old daughter – which made us proud grandparents.
My wife and I had been down the long and winding road,through thick and thin,trial and error and weathered many a storm together these past 35 years. She was the model mother instilling / inculcating in our children values, which have stood them in good stead..
May she rest in eternal peace.
We miss you so very very much darling Ginny / Mama……Till we meet again
Wasanthakumar Perera