A stand-up comedian, versatile actor, self-made chef of exotic cuisine, psychologist, counsellor, home decorator, doctor in the house for all, but himself. This was my brother, not by profession but by nature. He was a businessman inheriting the family batik business.
How do I come to terms with your sudden journey into the unknown? With no goodbyes, unfinished sentences and untold truths? You were not just a brother to me, but a great friend, caregiver, protector and supporter in all my endeavours.
You cared for all your family, close friends and workers unconditionally. You always found time in between your numerous chores to listen to the woes or day-to-day tales of not just friends and family but the fishmonger, the garage mechanic, the vegetable vendor, the bathroom brush seller or anybody who needed an ear. You even had time for the constant chatter of the little boy next door. Your patience was really a golden virtue.
I remember how you were kept in charge of me when I was little and while our parents were at work, you constantly fanned me with a newspaper to keep me from acquiring a wheeze which I did if I sweated. You were my sole playmate and also taught me some wild tricks like sneaking into our parents’ room at Christmas time to snatch a piece of cake from the almirah while they slept. It was a ‘mission impossible’ but well accomplished. How can I forget the numerous ‘test matches’ we played in the balcony of our tiny flat, and the car tyres we rolled around the living room, knocking down furniture imagining we were driving cars? You even brainwashed me into thinking raw bacon was delicious. It was!
On your own you were mischievous, getting into all the scrapes and getting out of them with the most creative fairytales. Your middle name ‘William’ didn’t fit anyone more aptly, as you were the epitome of the character in that series by Richmal Compton. You gave us endless entertainment with your priceless cricket commentaries at parties and when we had sing-songs you would always hit the high notes that none of us could pitch.
You would watch a movie and enact the entire story to us, making it come alive by taking on all the different characters. When we invariably did see the movie, it would be an anticlimax as your version was so much better. You excelled in sport at Royal, playing cricket as a little chap and represented College in rugby. I came for all your matches with Thaththa and my stomach would flutter inside every time you had to kick a penalty.
You transformed my life forever when I was eleven, when you brought home the ‘Woodstock’ LP and all the serious progressive music emerging at that time. I metamorphosed from a ‘sweet goody two shoes’ to a rebellious hell-raiser. Thank you! I realized then that something complex was going on ‘out there’ and life was not about pretty dresses. We got even closer and were really good buddies in our late teens and stayed close friends till the end.
You later became my boss, but we joked and laughed most of the time throwing in work in between. We also had a collaborated creative phase when we produced two fashion shows “Implosion I and II”, more like fashion dramas with dramatic movement, music and special lighting which hadn’t been staged in Sri Lanka before. I am ever so grateful and indebted to the time, energy and great lengths you went into making sure my house turned out something special.
You were always there in all my trials and tribulations with sound advice, moral support and the nuttiest jokes. We all have had many fires to hurdle through, cliffs we hurtled over and a lot of rocky slippery terrain to cover, but we made it and you were always there. Now we have fallen into this dark abyss because of our loss and you are not there to show us the way out.
You brought up three children by yourself and looked after our parents at the same time. Your burdens were much, maybe too much. You have left a legacy of three wonderful, beautiful children Janith, Vidhu and Yathra. We all miss you incredibly, and a shadow hangs over us because we cannot share with you the sunrise and the sunset, the starry sky and the moonlight, the leaves on the trees and the chirping of birds, the rivers, the breeze and the sea, but mostly the laughter you generated whenever we spoke. How dull, boring and colourless our lives will be.
How many interesting and enlightening conversations we had on a daily basis? Be it the arts, sports, politics or social issues, we always had great rapport. I don’t know how I can ever watch a Sri Lankan cricket match again with no post-mortem with you. The void you have left doesn’t have refills. We can only have memories.
There have been and will be many great sons and lovers, fathers and brothers, but I tell you surely that you were the very best. I am convinced you are in a softer, sweeter realm of consciousness, because you gave so much of yourself in this life. May your soul be at peace!
The sun will always shine, but never as brightly as before.
Menik |
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