I still remember that joyous day, April 24, 1981, when I heard about your birth, although I was not in the country at the time.
Two years later, when I was due to return from the United States for my wedding, I was wondering what to bring you. I thought of a frock, although it was difficult to choose such a gift for an unseen baby. However, it turned out to be the perfect choice. With your round face and curly hair you looked a doll in that frock on my wedding day.
 I later became your “aunty next door”. I can still picture you as a cute little girl, neatly dressed, coming to our front garden every evening, to play hide-and-seek with your cousin Ruwanthi Akki.
I cannot believe how fast the years flew. In no time, you grew to be a smart, accomplished young girl, and then a Montessori teacher, and then you got married, and became a loving wife and the devoted mother of two.
You did your best in every role you played in your life. You were a pillar of strength to your family. Whether rich or poor, young or old, people always received help from your generous hands. There are many instances of your generosity, but let me mention one. You wanted three girls from an orphanage to be your flower girls at your wedding. You told your father, “Thaaththi, those orphan girls may never have such a chance again.”
You won the hearts of everyone with your friendliness and unfailing kindness.The doctors, the so-called “specialists” who treated you, were unable to diagnose your fatal illness. To them, you were just another patient.
God decided that this corrupt, selfish, unkind world was undeserving of you. So He chose a wonderful place in His kingdom for you, and He asked the angels to decorate it. The angels brought flowers, and each flower stood for each good thing you did in your life, and the place was covered with beautiful, fragrant flowers.
Finally, the angels came to gently carry you away to the place you belonged to. You surrendered, but you knew the pain your departure would cause to your loved ones. You turned back and whispered, “Don’t cry, take Yohan and Uthika as a remembrance of me”, and with that you joined the angels.
We remember you on the occasion of your one-month remembrance day.
Yes, Sadanie, we see your sweet smile, your bright eyes and your friendliness in your little darlings.
We will console ourselves by looking after them.
Padma Manel Silva
A man with a mission who stood tall in his community
A. A. M. Marleen PC
In the early hours of June 24, 2009, I received a call from my son Fazal, a banker in Saudi Arabia, to say my dear friend A. A. M. Marleen had passed away. Marleen was the Sri Lanka ambassador to Saudi Arabia, and he had died during an official visit to Yemen. His departure is an immeasurable loss to the Muslim community of Sri Lanka.
Sri Lankan businessman Rizmi Riyal aptly and poignantly said: “We have lost a great ambassador. In everything he did, Mr. Marleen had his country’s and his community’s interests at heart. Personal aggrandisement had no place in his thought.”
In my more than 50 years of friendship with Marleen, I observed that the force that propelled him was to be of service to humankind.
Marleen and I were friends from our teen-age days. Although we went to different schools – he to Zahira College and I to St. Mathew’s College – we would often meet as members of various social organisations, including the All-Ceylon Islamic Students’ Union. Marleen was the secretary of the union.
Marleen was the livewire of the union. He and the other members did tremendous service for the Muslim community in respect of the educational requirements.
Like many of his friends in the union, Marleen entered the Law College and passed out as an Attorney-at-Law. He worked with enthusiasm and enjoyed an extensive practice. He stood tall among his peers as a person with a strong analytical mind. He was quick at grasping the essence of an argument. He was greatly respected by his fellow lawyers. His sincerity, patience and pleasing manners endeared him to all, especially those who sought his help and legal advice. All his friends were delighted when he was made a President’s Counsel, an honour he richly deserved.
Both in his professional work as a lawyer and in his social involvements he held fast to Abraham Lincoln’s maxim, “With malice toward none, with charity for all”.
Marleen was also an active member of the Afro-Asian Solidarity Front, and travelled to many countries in Asia and Africa to attend regional and world conferences.
On March 31, 2008, I stopped over for a few hours in Riyadh, on my way to London. Marleen had just taken up duties as the Sri Lanka ambassador to Saudi Arabia. I called on him at his residence. It was late in the night. We had a pleasant discussion. He said he would use his position to serve his country as best he could, and that he would keep the concerns of his community in mind. This was exactly what he was doing when Death took him away.
His teen-age initiatives in humanitarian and social work were extended later in life in projects at national level. When he was elected president of the Moors’ Islamic Cultural Home, he saw the post as a God-given opportunity to bring about palpable change in the conditions of his community.
Marleen spent the best years of his life trying to realise the vision of the late Sir Razik Fareed, the leader of the Muslim community and founder of the Islamic Cultural Home. That was Marleen’s mission. Sir Razik believed that the future of the Muslim community lay to a great extent in the education of Muslim women. He contributed generously to establish the Muslim Ladies College.
The country is witnessing a surge in the education of Muslim girls all over the country, and there is a steady influx of young Muslim women into Colombo to study for professional qualifications.
Marleen and his dedicated team at the MICH worked assiduously towards this end. Their untiring efforts resulted in the imposing structure at the top of Lily Avenue, Wellawatte, which houses the MICH women’s hostel.
Our paths crossed once again 20 years later when I returned to Colombo after retiring from UN services. I was invited to be principal of Zahira College, Colombo. A year after I assumed duties as principal, Marleen was appointed chairman of the school’s board of governors. I was happy to have another opportunity to work with my good friend. “As long-time friends,” Marleen said, “we should be able to do something tangible for my alma mater, to which I owe a lot.”
Unfortunately, these plans did not materialise, as Marleen left a year later. During that year, he showed a deep interest in the school, and never missed a school extra-curricular activity. I wish he had been persuaded to stay on as chairman a little longer. The school would have benefited a great deal.
Marleen lived a rich and fulfilled life. He will continue to live in the hearts of all those who knew and associated with him.
He leaves behind his beloved wife Fathima and their loving children Dr. Sharoon, Dr. Shezoon, Dr. Shemoon and Sharhram.To end this appreciation, I wish to quote Mustafa Kamel Ata Turk, founder of modern Turkey. Just before his death in 1938, the year Marleen was born, the great man said:
“Everyman is doomed to perish physically;
The only way to stay happy while we live is to work,
Not for ourselves but those to come”.
Dr. Uvais Ahamed
Anybody, anytime could seek Victor’s counsel
V. J. T. PERERA (Victor)
V. J. T. Perera, you passed away on August 2, 1999 – 10 years ago. August was also your birth month. If you had lived a few years longer, you would have reached the three-quarter century mark, which I am about to reach. These thoughts bring to mind the lines of the poet Laurence Binyon:
“They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.”
Death humbles us all because in death we are all equal. Your life was a shining example of humility and equality to your children and self, your loving younger brother.
You were an exemplary son to your parents, an exceptional husband to your lovely wife Joyce, and a loving father to your sons and daughters. You treated your in-laws as your own children. Your life revolved around compassion, loving kindness and service to humanity.
You worked for the Ceylon Tea Propaganda Board, which ran the advertising slogan, “Any time is tea time”. Similarly, “any time was comforting time” was the theme of your personal life. Anybody, any time, could come to you for help or advice.
Thank you for your loving kindness and concern.
Maurice A. Perera
Grateful for the friendship of a great teacher, playwright and Buddhist mentor
Sylvia Gunatillake
I first met Sylvia Gunatillake in 1953. I had returned from America with my parents, and I was placed in Form III at CMS Ladies’ College, in Colombo.
Miss Gunatillake was our Form III Sinhala teacher. During my years away from the country I had forgotten even the Sinhala alphabet, and so I had to re-learn the language. Meanwhile, my classmates were reading Martin Wickramasinghe’s “Rohini”, which I found almost incomprehensible.
The diminutive Miss Gunatillake had a beautiful, kind face, although she could be stern. She was a teacher in every sense of the word. Besides her classroom teaching, she taught us to be good citizens. She would bring to class articles that had appeared in the Sinhala newspapers. These articles were invariably about great personalities who led exemplary lives, such as Mahathma Gandhi and Vinoda Bhave. I recall her once spending two entire classroom periods reprimanding us for being rude to another teacher.
She kept me back in Form V because my Sinhala was still not up to standard, but I did not hold that against her. In fact, it gave me more time to work on my Sinhala.
Miss Gunatillake was a fine language teacher and also a distinguished playwright. I was privileged to take part in her stage productions. She made her debut in the Sinhala theatre producing and directing her own version of “Kuveni”. The play was praised highly in the newspapers. Her next play was “Vihara Maha Devi”, which was also very well received by critics and audiences. The show was taken to Kandy, and I believe it brought in much-needed funds for the new school hall.
She cast me in another play but I had to withdraw before it went on the boards because my parents had to go abroad again.
I don’t remember exactly when I found out that Miss Sylvia was a relative of mine. Much later in life, when I was going through a bad patch, she telephoned me out of the blue and said, “Come and see me, child. I want to speak to you. And don’t call me Miss. It is high time you started calling me Auntie. After all, we are related.”
At one time Auntie Sylvia lived in Moratuwa, at a famous temple, in a section reserved for female renunciants. She took me under her wing. She introduced me to the Vipassana Bhavana Centre at Wijerama Mawatha, and on several occasions took me with her Buddhist Society friends to offer dana to the monks at Polgasduwa.
By then she was no longer interested in writing plays. Her life was now dedicated to religion. She also introduced me to a group of ladies who met once a week to listen to Buddhist talks. She was the mentor whenever the group met at Sita Wickramasooriya’s house.
At the time, I was studying at the Postgraduate Institute of Pali and Buddhist Studies. I could not attend all the get-togethers, but I did spend time meditating with Miss Sylvia at the meditation centres at Wijerama Mawatha and Dhammakuta.
I was never very involved in the ritual aspects of religion (a failing of mine), and she did not press me to participate. She was very understanding.
I saw her less frequently after she came to live at the All-Ceylon Women’s Buddhist Congress, because I was ordained shortly after. Whenever I did visit her, she would tell me all about her activities. Her achievements were astonishing for someone her age. Her memory was excellent, and her knowledge of Pali as fresh as it must have been back in her university days.
She translated into English several books written by the Ven. Nauyana Ariyadhamma Thera. She was invited to visit Ladies’ College once a week to talk on Buddhism. Many young people would come to her for advice and counselling.
She also held discussion groups at the All-Ceylon Women’s Buddhist Congress. She taught Buddhism until her death at the age of 93. The Dhamma flowed from her lips, and she quoted freely in Pali.
Sylvia Gunatillake was an exceptional person. Young people, mothers and grandmothers – they all sought her out for her wisdom and knowledge.
May she be happy in whatever realm she is, and may she attain the peace of Nibbana soon.
Bhikkhuni Waskaduwe Suvimalee
|
E-mail