Appreciations
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man of justice he fought to the end I met Dr. David for the first time at the Colombo South Hospital as his intern in the paediatric ward. I had opted to give up my appointment at Lady Ridgeway Hospital to work under Dr. David at Colombo South as I had heard so much about his teaching skills. I was never disappointed. I learnt so much from him and I am ever so grateful to him. I could still remember his "Well baby" lectures to new mothers. I think in a way he played a big role in my choice of paediatrics as my career. He was a man ahead of his time. He was always looking for new ideas not being old fashioned and would listen even to a house officer if he thought the house officer was right. He had no foolish pride. I never heard him speak ill of anyone. He would never criticize another physician's treatment when talking to patients. He respected physicians of different levels. I could never forget how he stood by me and spoke on my behalf before I was elected to the Sri Lanka College of Paediatricians and later on to council membership. He was a man who would not hesitate to call a spade a spade. He fought for justice. Every hospital he served will have many entries in the complaint book from Dr. David to the Medical Superintendent pointing out irregularities. His writing was always in clear large bold letters indicative of a clear mind with no evidence of hesitancy. Perhaps, his bold nature to fight for justice brought about his demise. When he confronted the intruder on that fateful day I could just imagine how he would have reacted and as a result sadly suffered the consequences. Dr. David was a great physician and he was loved by all his little patients. He loved his country. Due to unfortunate incidents during the 1983 riots he left the country to work in the Middle East. However he got back to his motherland to render his services as soon as the opportunity arose. He was a family man. The Davids celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary with family and friends only two months before his death. Even though his children did not follow the footsteps of their parents in becoming doctors his granddaughter has passed out as a doctor recently. This he announced so proudly on his 50th wedding anniversary. He was an old Trinitian like me. He took a keen interest in the old boys union. I think 3 generations of Davids have been Trinitians. His dedication to his alma mater was appreciated by the college which honoured him by draping his coffin with the Trinity flag. When Dr. David passed away Sri Lanka lost a great paediatrician. His untimely death was very sad indeed. My deepest sympathies go to his wife Louise, children Ranjan, Cherinne and Manora and his grandchildren. Dr. Ajith Fernando He
helped lavishly in the cause of the poor Loving memories of him linger in the hearts of all those who associated closely with him. As an active member of the Lions Club of Mulleriyawa New Town, he took a keen interest in the various humanitarian activities of the club and exhibited his magnanimity in providing financial assistance for projects aimed at alleviating the sufferings of the poor and the disabled. He was also a keen and dedicated member of the Cursillo and the Patrician movements and was an admirer and emulator of Rev Fr. Theophan Wickramaratne, the spiritual director of the Cursillo movement. Born on October 13, 1932 at Mamalgama, Kosgama, he had his early education at Joseph Vaz College, Wennapuwa, St. John Bosco Hanwella and St. Joseph's College, Colombo and graduated from the University of London with a B.Sc. Economics degree. He was a specialist English teacher for several years and continued as an English tutor till his final years, even after his retirement from the Sri Lanka Insurance Company as an organiser, which post he held for over twenty years. Mr. Rupasinghe had a natural flair for writing, especially in English and he contributed articles to the Catholic Messenger, Gnanartha Pradeepaya and Daily News etc. He was a voracious reader and had built up a large library of his own where he spent the greater part of the day reading, writing and praying. His instructions to his wife before his death were to donate all his books to a Catholic organization - a request, which she gladly complied with. He rarely missed Sunday mass even during his period of illness. Nimal Sarathchandra I want
to be a child in his arms again They were dressed in long trousers, white shirts and black bows, kept on a throne and photographed with coloured lights decorating their house and the trees in the garden. This was followed by an appetizing meal. I wanted a similar ceremony held for me as well, though I did not know what was in store for me. My day came, but there was no fanfare, except for a few coloured lights that my uncles had hung along the roof's edge. That was the first time I learnt about my father's simplicity and hatred of vanity - qualities he had tried to inculcate in his children and grandchildren till he died on February 26 this year. Another bit of his advice, which I follow like a divine edict, was to respect other people's beliefs and customs. The advice came as a chastisement when I, as a five-year-old, was hanging on to the vertical bars of the old window of my maternal grandmother's house and poking fun at a childhood friend who did not share my beliefs. Although my father respected other people's beliefs and customs, he would always caution us against blindly following the West. "Take only what is good," was the advice I got from my father, a devout Muslim whose life was shaped by the teachings of Prophet Muhammad. Son of a religious teacher of Bengali origin, my father Mohammed Izzadeen Zainudeen led a humble life throughout his 77-year existence on this earth, from which he tried to detach himself. He understood the impermanency of this worldly life and did not attempt to build a kingdom here. He performed Haj, but did not want to wear the title 'Al-Haj' or 'Hajiar'. One regular criticism of my father was that he was not ambitious. Whenever we came up with this complaint, he would cite a Tamil maxim "podum endra maname pon seiyum virundu" - the golden banquet is a content heart. I remember he even said no to a promotion at Forbes and Walker where he worked for more than 35 years. Another of his bits of advice to his wife and five children was to conquer one's self - nafs - in keeping with a saying of the Prophet Muhammad that the champion is not he who conquers an opponent in the ring but he who conquers self. The day my first newspaper article appeared, his advice to me was to use my pen in the cause of justice and truth. He made us call him 'Wappa', because he shunned the alien 'Dada'. 'My Wappa and I' could be the title of a book of encylopaedic proportions, capturing all the scenes where he and I figured large. He would buy me half a pint of milk when we returned home together from the mosque after the daily pre-dawn prayers. Some days, he would buy me hot levariya from the tea boutique. He would keep me on his bicycle bar and take me for tuition classes even when I was doing my GCE O/L. During the hard times of the 1970s, I once complained that the rice served for me was not enough. His advice was to drink more water and eat whatever was there for us. As poverty squeezed us, he remained steadfast and worked long hours to keep us fed, clothed and educated. He was known as a man of patience-his hallmark and a description of him in one sentence. He taught us how to be generous even with a paltry income and led an exemplary life. In his youth, he was a member of the Jamath-e-Islam - a movement founded by Moulana Abul Ala' Moudoodi of the British Raj. Perhaps it was his association with this movement that made him shun superstitions and bid'at (innovations in the religion) that were being practised in the name of Islam. During his retirement, he set out to teach the Quran, which he had memorized with its translation to a great extent and which he was known to recite in keeping with the rules of Tajweed. An avid reader of Islamic literature, especially Tafsirs (interpretations of the Quran), he scattered light, whenever he spoke. Many came to him to hear his views on controversial religious issues, for his explanations were based on Quran and authentic Hadees (sayings of Prophet Muhammad). Even during his last days while he was being fast devoured by cancer -- which he fought patiently -- discussions on matters of Islam and life's philosophy illumined him and made him forget the pain. Today more than a month after his death, I cry silently thinking of all the heartaches I had caused my saintly father to bear. I feel I have not done enough to atone for the pain I caused him. His death made me discover an eternal spring of love - hidden and unexpressed. When my love for him flows in great abundance, he is not with me. Yes, I strongly yearn to be a child in his hands again so that I could shower all this love on him and also be kissed, pampered and guided by him. As I placed his body gently in the grave and had my last look at him, I wanted to say aloud, "Oh, my Wappa, I love you." On February 26, soon after I received a call saying my father's condition was bad, I rushed to my sister's house only to see my father's body - soul departed yet full of life and a face radiant with a smile. I consoled myself, saying he had a happy death. "O (thou) soul, in (complete) rest and satisfaction! Come back thou to thy Lord - well pleased (thyself) and well-pleasing unto Him! Enter thou, then, among My devotees! Yea, enter thou My Heaven!" - Quran (89, 27-30). -- Ameen Izzadeen |
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