Appreciations
View(s):Malli, we had joy, we had fun, we had seasons in the sun
Thusith Mudalige
As Thusith’s only sister, I was deeply moved and humbled to read the articles in the newspapers and on Facebook, from people who knew him professionally, commending his sterling qualities and his service to the country. This was also because he had the God-given gift of instant connection with people.
Yet, for me, Thusith was my beloved brother, a loving, kind and gentle human being, who was not only a caring sibling, but a reliable confidant and a true friend until the very end.
And so, for me and my family, living half a world away, the tragedy of losing him in this untimely manner, is unfathomable. For us, the bottom has dropped off our world, and we are left grieving the loss of a much-loved brother, brother-in-law and ‘mami’ to my three daughters.
What people realized when they first met Thusith was that he had a profoundly religious side to him, and everything he did was naturally propelled by his deep reverence for his faith. The respectful, courteous and generous manner with which he treated everyone he met, at work or at home, was testimony to his deeply-instilled faith.
I am overcome by childhood memories as I write this tribute. Thusith was seven years younger than I, and I was the eternal big sister who loved taking care of him and carrying him around in my arms. He was a large baby, and my parents and grandparents were on pins whenever I carried him. I don’t blame them because I did drop him a few times. As he grew to be a toddler, he adored me, and followed me around like my shadow. We played together, ran around together, shared snacks and chocolate. And, moreover, much to Amma’s horror, he read his first letters with me too.
When he was about eight years old, we used to have endless serious conversations on many topics. We were inseparable. And during these long sessions, I realized what a great listener he was. He followed up with many intelligent questions because he was really listening, and not preparing his own argument while I talked.
As kids, we spent our weekends and holidays at Avissawella, our hometown. We enjoyed the rural outdoors, especially swimming and fishing in the nearby stream with our relatives. He loved animals of all sorts, and they used to sense that and inch toward him to be petted. And we had such enjoyable times out in the sunshine. I would climb trees to pluck ripened mangoes and guavas in the garden, while he stood on the ground, instructing me what to do. Now, looking back, that is symbolic. His feet had to be firmly planted on the ground at all times.
From another perspective, we were young partners in crime around the house, vexing Amma no end. One day we bathed our cat, with serious consequences of course, just to prove to Amma that it was clean enough to be carried around. Although it was my genius idea, Thusith did not let me down. He said it was a joint decision.
Thusith had a funny and cheeky side too. His favourite pastime, which he never outgrew in adulthood, was to tease and provoke me so I would scream and chase after him. I was agile and usually ran after him with a bowl of water; the only way to get him. Once he rubbed the pungent flesh of a durian all over my face when I was on the phone, and another time pretended to entice me with a piece of chocolate, and instead, fed me a cube of salty beef Oxo. I was his human serviette, getting food, dirt and grime wiped on my clothes.
As the years went by, Amma was confounded why we had not grown up, while Thaththa tolerated our pranks and yelling with droll resignation; perhaps he enjoyed the laughter and the commotion that filled the house.
Though I moved overseas with my husband after marriage, out of sight was never out of mind with Thusith. In fact, physical separation made us grow even closer. He often reminded Amma not to give any bad news when she wrote to me. He would say, “Don’t make her sad.” Every time I came home with my family, Thusith made sure that there was a steady supply of everything I liked to eat. He knew exactly what I missed overseas.
Later on, I saw Thusith as a loving husband and devoted father to his two children, whose wellbeing was of paramount importance to him.
Each time we spoke on the phone across the miles, Thusith was anxious to know how we all were, and followed up on every single happening in our lives. But he was totally silent about his professional work, especially during the last few years of his life. When I brought up vexing topics, he would calmly brush it aside, saying it was a team effort. He always spoke highly of his dedicated team.
Professionally, Thusith did what he had wanted do since he was 13 years old. He dreamed of becoming a lawyer to represent the voiceless and the helpless in society. And I am so proud he served the country he loved in a sincere and patriotic way, at a most challenging and dangerous time to be an honest public servant. But he always did what he had to do with no fear or favour. During a relatively short career, he followed his dream to the very end, facing all the challenges bravely and quietly.
But 49 years were all we had with this wonderful man, and he has now embarked on a very different journey. But the beautiful memories we have of our time with him, will carry us through, as we bear the cross of his death.
May the angels of the Lord carry him through heaven’s gates and grant him eternal peace!
Farewell my dearest Malli!
Ayanthi Nonis
Remembering Sam
S.W. Rabindranath de Alwis Samarasinghe
It was early November. The leaves on the beautiful oak tree just outside his window which had been a luscious green in the summer had turned to a burnished gold. A sudden gust of wind scattered the leaves and transformed the garden into a golden carpet soon to be swallowed into the soil. Seated by the window, reminiscing on the cycles of nature, Sam remarked that what the earth gives, it also takes back. It was indeed a metaphor. A healthy person, who ran half marathons, Sam did recognize that his indomitable will could not stall the inevitable progression of an illness which had invaded his body. In the early hours of November 22, Sam, reclining on his bed died peacefully with the same courage that he displayed throughout his life.
Sam had three great passions: everything Sri Lankan, anything economics, and an all-consuming devotion to his students. While he lived the better part of the past 30 years in the US, he was well informed and up to-date on all significant developments on the political and socio-economic fronts in Sri Lanka. Thanks to the electronically connected world, he would watch the talk shows, read all the papers, engage people on all sides of the political spectrum to gather information and opinions. He had what he liked to call “informed opinions”.
As an economist, he loved to dabble in numbers. It was justifiably annoying to those who had opposing views, because unlike Sam they would not have the numbers at their fingertips to back up their arguments. While he did believe that political behavioural preferences could not be explained by socio-economic numbers, he idealistically clung on to the hope that logic and rationality would ultimately prevail.
He loved teaching and the many accolades he received from generations of his students, both at the University of Peradeniya, his alma mater, and at Tulane University in the US, attest to the high esteem he enjoyed among them. He rejoiced in their professional successes taking pride in their leadership roles in banking, administration, international development and in academia.
In common with all human beings, Sam had his share of shortcomings. One that stood out was his annoyance, bordering on intolerance, with people who fell short of his own high standards of hard work and his relentless attention to detail. He tried to push people who did not want to be pushed: period. He thrived on engaging people on politics, especially of Sri Lankan politics, not really recognizing that if there are five people arguing about politics in Sri Lanka there would be more than five opinions and nobody, himself included, would give way.
Sam thought ’big”. However, his rhetoric and vision did not always meet reality. His siblings laughingly relate this story of how Sam as a schoolboy, built a big Vesak “kuduwa” only to find that he could not get it out of the front door! His biggest disappointment in his professional life was when he decided to leave an institution that he helped to build over a period of nearly 25 years. But being Sam, once he took the decision he did not look back.
His mother, Padma Kumari Samarasinghe was Sam’s hero. Left a widow with a young family, and a meagre widow’s pension to survive on, she steered the family to calmer shores. Sam was extremely proud of her courage and resilience in guiding all her children to become highly placed professionals as adults. She was lovingly taken care of by her children in return and lived a long and fruitful life. When she died a few years ago, she was well into her 90s.
Sam’s love of gardening came from his mother. He had such fond memories of helping his mom to grow, in the salubrious climate of Peradeniya, a variety of vegetables to feed the family. Sam spent many hours planning, planting, and tending his own garden, often trying to set up devices to keep away the squirrels, rabbits, and the occasional deer from eating his flowers and tomatoes. That, though, was not one of the battles he won.
Sam had numerous acquaintances but a few close friends, most of them Sri Lankans. Their greatest gift to him was that they continued to have long conversations with him about Sri Lanka, even when he was physically weak. Sam never lost his sense of curiosity and thirst for knowledge.
He was Aiyya, the older brother, respected and adored by his younger siblings. A few of them overcame COVID restrictions to fly across borders to be with Aiyya during the last weeks of his life. Sam’s greatest pride and joy came from his two sons, Mevan and Ranmal and their families. It was with immeasurable delight that Sam responded to his two granddaughters, Eliya and Noralie, when they came running to him shouting “Seeya”.
Well! how do I know all this? I should, shouldn’t I? I was married to him for 50 years. Last July on our 50th wedding anniversary when I said 50 years and counting, he quietly responded, “It will soon be stop counting.”
Vidya
He was a benefactor to so many
DR. ATHULA KaHANDALIYANAGE
Much loved and admired by many, the benevolent Dr. Athula Kahandaliyanage breathed his last on January 21, after a brief illness.
Dr Athula became somewhat connected to me through his marriage to Indira de Silva whose brother Lasantha de Silva, retired DIG, married my sister-in-law Deanna. If my memory serves me right, my wife and I took Indira to St. Theresa’s Church, Thimbirigasyaya, on the day of their wedding. Indira’s parents were known to us. Athula hailed from Anuradhapura and through his dedication, hard work, honesty and professionalism over the years, he rose to the highest position in the Department of Health as Director General of Medical Services of Sri Lanka.
His efficiency and dedication were recognized by the World Health Organisation when he was appointed as the Regional Representative of the WHO based in New Delhi.
He was ever ready to help those in need. He never said “Sorry, I am not in a position to help” but always willingly attended to people’s needs.
In 1996 I was transferred as DIG North/Western range, based in Kurunegala. My family stayed in the government quarters at Slave Island. I occupied the DIG’s bungalow near the lake and lived on my own with an assistant provided by the Police Department. Athula was MOH Kurunegala and we used to interact almost daily. Indira who was based in Wariyapola used to send home-cooked lunches for him and from the day I took over the N/W Range, they made it a point to send lunch to me too. Whenever any Police Officers or their families had any medical problems, I had only to inform him and they were given priority treatment in all government hospitals. This help extended to our family members too.
When I underwent a knee transplant surgery at the Sri Jayawardenapura Hospital where Athula was Director General of the Hospital, Athula and Indira would visit me every night. Many attendants and nurses related how helpful he had been to them too and how he had started a fund with part of his salary to help patients who lacked the necessary finances and also members of the clergy who received treatment at the hospital.
A few years ago when I travelled to Delhi to attend a funeral, Athula and Indira met me, brought me back to his official residence as a WHO representative, taking care of everything.
Indira looked after Athula very well during the past few years when he faced some health problems. She never gave up, but fought to the last. On behalf of my family and all friends we express our sympathies to Indira and their son. We have lost a benefactor who did not permit his left hand to know what his right hand did, to help many.
May his soul rest in peace. B.Anton Jeyanathan
She has left us all with many beautiful memories
Shamini Bandaranayaka
Gone is the smiling face of my cousin Shamini Akka whom we loved so dearly. I miss her very much because she was a wonderful person, warm and quick to make everyone feel comfortable. She has left us all with many beautiful memories.
She was the second daughter of Abey Bandaranayaka and Sarojini Pilapitiya, the latter being my father’s (Mihindu Sumana Bandara Pilapitiya) elder sister.
As a child I saw the love and sibling rivalry that existed among them. Sarojini Nanda (Sudu Amma) and my father were the fourth and fifth children respectively of the 15 children of Cyril Herman Pilapitiya of Hanguranketha and Annie Perera Kasthuriratne of Gampaha.
Sarojini Nanda was the natural leader in the family and Shamini Akka inherited it quite simply and was the undisputed choice to lead the present generation.
I witnessed her respectful yet commanding leadership, when my father who was famous for his integrity and self-esteem demonstrated at most times with arrogance, would listen in silence to Sarojini Nanda and Shamini Akka.
My mother Swarna Wanniarachi, who also hailed from Hillwood Kandy that Sarojini Nanda and Shamini Akka also attended, had the highest regard for them.
Shamini Akka and Sunil Aiya during their early married life, lived in a small bungalow in the midst of a large coconut estate bordering a lagoon somewhere between Chilaw and Puttalam.
With regard to her leadership and organising skills, what comes immediately to my mind is the family get-together she organised for Sarojini Nanda’s 80th birthday at our ancestral home in Magalegoda, where 167 family members got together for a day filled with fun and frolic.
She gave out the booklet that mapped our family tree which I strongly believe laid the foundation and early seed for Chamikara Pilapitiya’s book ‘Unknown tales of Kandy era’.
Shamini Akka was the Chairperson of the organising committee for the launch of Chamikara’s book at SLFI in Colombo in 2018, in the presence of a distinguished gathering.
When her beloved brother Gamini took robes as the Ven. Bhanthe Dhammagavsi Thera she took the responsibility of his upkeep as he is a mendicant who does not belong to any specific group or temple. In order to provide him shelter, alms and other needs, she was instrumental in creating a trust comprising family members and those close to Ven. Bhanthe’s doctrine.
The advice my grandfather C.H. Pilapitiya gave to all his 15 children was “Rest if you need but never quit”. Shamini Akka most times lived by this, however she personally told me that the burden of ancestral property and house that gave shelter to almost four generations at Magalegoda, was sometimes too much to bear.
The legendary Shamini Akka will live forever in our hearts.
Buddhika Dhananjaya Pilapitiya
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