Appreciations

Royalists of many vintages gathered last Saturday to bid a solemn and emotional farewell to Viji Weerasinghe, old Royalist, teacher, Deputy Principal and Advisor to the Royal College Union and above all, a loyal servant to Royal for nearly three score years and ten in what must be a unique achievement in its own right.

Vijitha Weerasinghe was ‘Viji’ to all and sundry at Royal. Generations of Royalists, now scattered across the globe will mourn his passing and remember a gentle school master who brought out the best in you without so much as a harsh word. Somehow, he had that in him.

Those of us who were at Royal from the mid-seventies to the mid-eighties encountered Viji when his teaching days were over: he was then the Head Master of the ‘O Level classes’. He was done and dusted with the chalk and blackboard, so we missed his prowess at Latin and his knack for teaching.

But those were the days. When L.D.H. Peiris was Principal; E.C. (‘Kataya’) Gunasekera was his deputy and Viji was third in command. This trio were starkly different in their ways but together they eked out a golden era for Royal in a decade where the school swept everything before them, be it in academia or in the sporting arena.

Peiris was an excellent administrator. He brooked no political interference in the running of the school. But, with his portly figure and gruff voice you wouldn’t run to him for solace in a hurry. Gunasekera, an icon in his own way, didn’t believe in sparing the rod and spoiling the child and no one sought an audience with him unless it was considered absolutely necessary. And then, there was Viji.

Always available, always approachable and always willing to hear you out, Viji was the one you went to, when something needed sorting out. And, we learnt later, that was also what a succession of Principals did when they wanted advice about any matter that concerned the intricacies that involved the various traditions at Royal, for Viji had an encyclopaedic knowledge of the school.

It is a tradition at Royal that only the Head of State is invited as the Chief Guest for the Prize Giving. And in those days, it was also a tradition that the names of prize winners were read out by Viji, who with his distinct diction ensured that long and tongue twisting surnames were heard clearly and correctly.

Viji saw through many changes at Royal as the school evolved in keeping with educational reforms that swept the country: the introduction of the Grade Six entrance examination, the amalgamation of the Royal Junior School and the eventual separation of the College into Junior, Middle and Upper schools.

Retirement in the eighties only strengthened Viji’s bond with Royal. He simply shifted office: from the Deputy Principal’s chair to that of advisor to the Royal College Union, a job he undertook with glee and did admirably until a couple of days before his death. Imagine the pleasure of old boys when, on returning to Royal some twenty years after leaving school to admit their children, they find that amidst a sea of changes at Royal there is one constant-Viji, in his customary whites, slightly thinner perhaps, but with that same cherubic smile and benevolent demeanour from when you knew him decades ago.

Viji shunned the limelight. So, it was something of a shock to him when a series of appreciations recounting his dedicated service to Royal appeared in the newspapers a few weeks ago to mark his 80th birthday. He was both embarrassed but also happy in his typically self deprecating manner that his contribution had, after all, not gone unnoticed. It was just as well: that was to be his last birthday.

Viji died in harness. If he had a choice in his passing, that is exactly what he would have chosen. In fact, when he was last taken ill, he was getting ready to ‘go to work’ at the Royal College Union! It is fitting that Viji had to leave this way; for a man who gave his everything to Royal, any other way would have been a travesty of fate.

For thousands of Royalists, Royal without Viji is unimaginable. It is something we would have to get used to. Viji Weerasinghe did not collect titles before his name or letters after it. He did not amass riches nor did he assume any positions of great power and prestige. He was a simple schoolmaster who spent his life nurturing generation after generation of Royalists into good men.

For that we are grateful as we say, ‘Thank you, Sir, and Farewell’. And we can do no better than to quote from Viji’s paraphrase when he was writing an appreciation of ‘Kadalay’, a gram seller who was a mascot of sorts for Royal for several decades. Those words fit Viji Weerasinghe himself to the letter: “This was a man; when comes such another?”

He brought out the best in all of us