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His was a short
life but full of wisdom and kindness He made it a point not to offend anyone but used subtle diplomacy to drive home his point of view at any discussion. Ravi was a source of strength when I went through an unfortunate experience a few years ago. Ravi gave me sound advice and support to resurrect a shattered dream. He was a dedicated son, devoted husband, loving father, concerned relative, sincere friend and committed professional. As an employee, his undisputed loyalty, commitment and dedication were demonstrated until his last breath. Ravi walked with kings but did not lose the common touch. Ravi was a team man and excellent company. He always had time for his friends and relatives. Even with his busy official schedule, he never failed to return a telephone call. The hotel trade has lost a dedicated member and will remember him for the contribution he made. A fine epitaph
to Ravi will be Rudyard Kipling's "If" since he lived
a life, which seemed to be guided by those 32 lines of truth and
wisdom. Ravi is no more, yet memories of him will linger. - Tikiri Kobbekaduwa My heart still bleeds Colonel Fazly Laphir I saw the red rear lights Then the yellow signals You left in the green jeep Dressed in the green uniform While I watched from my window Red, yellow, green. I didn't see you But knew you were there I didn't see the colour of the plane The moon didn't have enough light Although it was full But I saw the lights Red, yellow, green. Which moved towards the airport While I watched from the balcony. I stand near my easel Pick up my palette and the brush And start painting There appears the rainbow On my empty canvas Red, yellow, green And it starts raining Then the colours blot. I sit in my little garden And start doing embroidery Then the flowers bloom Red, yellow, green Then they fade away. I get up and go out Walk along the road All the vehicles are stopped Then they start moving Red, yellow, green Then I turn back. I get a severe pain in my heart I touch and feel its wetness Through my fingers Pouring down my body Blood! My heart is wounded It's bleeding RED!! -Your ever-loving Ano Remembering
Mamma, a doting grandmother The last few months were agonizing for those of us who had to watch her wither away. After a fall seven years ago that put her on a walker and a catheter, she was limited in her movements but the strong spirited southerner she was, she wasn't about to give up. The last few months were the most trying, the most severe, even for her. She belonged to a generation that didn't allow women jobs bigger than nursing or teaching - yet, she was strong willed, tough and able to get things done. In many ways, she was ahead of her time. Had she lived in our generation and had access to higher education, career opportunities and the rest, there's no doubt in my mind that she would have made it real good. She had standards and values she lived by - she raised her kids tough but raised them good. As Mamma lay, ready for her last journey, in a simple coffin, clad in her favourite white saree she kept for special occasions - occasions that never came during the last few years of her life. I could trace the lines on her dear old arms -- arms that held countless children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren including, myself, my daughter Natasha and five-year-old son Akarasha, one of the last great-grandchildren she rejoiced to see. Arms that fed, that reprimanded, that comforted and brought joy to lives. Arms that cooked for hundreds, that nurtured hearts and held out hope and love. I could almost feel those arms, lovingly lined with age, as I helped my mother wash her. In her last days, she had to be cared for, sometimes under trying conditions. My mother Jasmine and my eldest sister Manohari stood vigil by Mamma, no easy task for years, until the very end. As she lay there, I kept remembering the many moments we shared. I was one of her favourite grandchildren. I remembered the times she took me to school - the time she would give chase with a cane. I wasn't close to her as a child but later on, I remember forming this special relationship with my grandmother. I would sit and listen to her stories about her young days, about marrying my grandfather, about going to a Catholic school where the nuns taught her how to pray. She was a strong Buddhist as the rest of my mother's family, but she respected my conversion to Christianity by conviction. There were many times when I would sit and pray for her, even occasions when pastors from church would come and pray. Such times were often when she would become frightened - prayer strengthened her and gave her a tremendous sense of peace and wellbeing. I have no tears to shed, not even a single thought of sadness. Instead, a quiet sense of joy lingers on, knowing that she has been released from a body tormented by sickness and old age. She had gone quietly into the fragrance of a sweet morning, slipping gently, changing from her final moments spent in a semi-conscious state, into one of peace and quiet. Until she deteriorated from a walker-aided stage to being bed-ridden, she and I had a little ritual that gave us both much joy. On a quiet Sunday afternoon, I would sit down to give her a pedicure - as I gently washed her withered feet, cut her nails and towelled them dry, she would sit still, her eyes filled with tears. For me, it was a labour of love. For her it was an opportunity to make a connection, albeit brief, with a busy grand-daughter. Sadly for both of us, it ended, when she took to bed, too sick even to sit. It is somehow difficult to think that she would never come back again - she has been around almost all of my life, she was such a part of it. She was always there - the void is felt - Nayomini Ratnayake Weerasooriya A genuine friend He had the time to find out all about his friends and followed up with words of encouragement if necessary or in his own inimitable style and language, told you exactly what he thought. There was no glossing over bad areas, no denying anything. Only the truth would do for Tilak. He was a lion-hearted
Trinitian. He never sought fame but was popular with all those around
him. He never preached, yet his example was that of a true Christian. - Brian Perera She
gave us love, patience, kindness She was a very religious person and Sunday mass was a must. If news of us missing Sunday mass ever got to her ears, well, it didn't matter if we were 4 or 44. I recall the visits to Madhu and Talawila churches and the stories she related on these journeys. Her visit to Holy Land was a favourite. Being a strict disciplinarian she could see through people. Mistakes were pointed out, not out of malice but to help. She loved singing, sewing and looking after her grandchildren. She encouraged our dreams, never judged or blamed us for taking wrong steps, but was concerned about what our next step would be and how she could help us take it. I still can picture her waiting for us if we came home late. Let me extend my gratitude for the firm grounding in honesty, love, patience and kindness you gave us Ma. I am sure you are safe in the arms of our Lord Jesus. - Desmond Koelmeyer |
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