My aunt Kusuma Wickramasinghe (née Gunasekara) passed away three months ago, aged 87. She was the second child in a family of six. The eldest was my father who, I can say without hesitation, was her favourite brother.
“Kusuma Nanda” attended Musaeus College, which was her mother Louisa’s school as well. She was proud of her alma mater, and never failed to go back to attend events organised by the “Old Girls” of the school.
When my grandfather, J. E. Gunasekara, died as a relatively young man after returning from Oxford, the family circumstances changed quite drastically. The family relocated from a sprawling upstair house near All Saints’ Church, Borella, to “Andewatte”, my grandmother’s home, in the hamlet of Waalawela, in Matale. Kusuma thus became a boarder, and the school holidays in Andewatte became a cherished, long awaited event.
In the war years, cousins and aunts came to stay en masse, each family occupying its own cottage. Those were the years Kusuma Nanda enjoying reminiscing about. She would recall with affection the trips she and her cousins Lorna and Loyce made to Matale town, warbling “home for dinner” as they walked uphill on the way home. Another aunt would warn them that “bacon and potatoes” awaited them in the form of my grandmother, who was sorely annoyed at their being so late.
Suitors presented themselves, and she married my uncle Vincent and came to live in Colombo. Kamal, her firstborn and her pride and joy, was followed by Ujith. She would call her two sons her greatest treasures, often describing them as “my two eyes”.
There was a lifestyle change for her when she became a “workshop and garage person”, running Uncle Vincent’s Eastern Auto Engineers. She was the public relations person, the writer of bills, the co-ordinator, the maker of tea. What delicious “cuppas” she served us whenever we stopped by.
Kamal went on to become an engineer. She was so proud of him. She and Ujith continued to run Eastern Auto Engineers after Uncle Vincent’s death. The business moved from R. A. de Mel Mawatha to Rajagiriya.
A brave woman is how I would describe her. She faced with great stoicism whatever life threw at her. A lady of the old school, she would never be seen slouching around the house dressed in a housecoat. She would always leave her room in the mornings dressed in the pastel-printed Kandyan sarees and the white puff-sleeve blouses she so favoured. Her hair, which turned grey only when she was well into her seventies, was always tied in a neat knot. Lime and Dill were a must for her, long before those names became the fashionable shampoos. Baths were always at the well at her home in Battaramulla.
Cooking meant doing things in the traditional manner, the hard way, with spices roasted and ground for a curry. She did take a few culinary short-cuts, using coconut milk frozen in ice-cube trays. I am glad I wrote down her typical recipes, such as the dishes for “polos" and “kekiri”.
Not long ago, I walked with you through the fields in Kagama, Kekirawa, and you identified the medicinal plants you used in your famous “polos”, cooked on the hearth.
Dearest “Kusu”, as I called you in later years, I cherish the memories, going back to my childhood and girlhood. There were the sing-songs at Andewatte, during what you called “lamp-lighting time in the valley”. You so loved to sing the “oldies” and those Tower Hall songs.
Then there was the trip to Ritigala, and the picnic on the Kalawewa bund. I will never forget that hilarious occasion when we returned from Avukana and our former houseboy Amaradasa was so thrilled to see you that he almost sat on your lap!
You remembered every family birthday. You never failed to send a birthday card if you could not come for a birthday party.
Every letter of yours was loving, full of comforting, empowering thoughts and blessings, whenever adversity assailed me.
I remember our long chats at the dining table, the laughter, the shared confidences. Then there was the time you “house sat” for us when I went on a trip to India and you looked after the spouse and the boys. I treasure the delicately embroidered cushion covers you brought back from that wonderful holiday in England.
You were looked after so well by Kamal, Niran and Sandeepani.
At the end, frail as a little bird, you proceeded with your onward journey, a whisper away.
A few days ago I heard your favourite song with the words “I'll be waiting for you on the other side of the moon”. It brought back all the memories and made me go all weepy.
Thank you for all the love you gave me.
Peace be with you.
Sharmini Rodrigo |
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