The death of L. M. P. “Lumpy” de Silva on August 8 took away from us a dedicated public servant who gave the best years of his life to the Police Department. Rising from Sub-Inspector to Deputy Inspector General, he was a leader, peer and friend whose life gave rich meaning to the concept of loyalty. He was also a husband, father, and grandfather, to whom his family meant more than anything.
Lumpy was a product of S. Thomas’ College (STC) where he acquired the values that he carried with him in his professional and personal life. Like all others educated at Mount Lavinia’s “large swimming pool with a small school attached to it,” he was enthusiastic about swimming. His abiding interest in sports, however, was cricket, in which he excelled. He also loved dogs and had been, for many years, immersed in growing roses while he had a fondness for cars.
He played First XI cricket for STC and the Police Department which he joined after his matriculation. In later years, he turned out, as long as he could, for teams of “seniors” and when ill health kept him away from those encounters, he spent much time watching and enjoying cricket on television.
Like his contemporaries, he gained his experience as a uniformed officer in the field. After a short stint at the Police Training School, he moved to the CID’s Special Branch responsible for political intelligence and counted many years of effective service.
Lumpy was mentored by several police “greats” of the past such as Scharenguivel, De Zoysa, and Attygalle. These were officers who did not equate extracting finger nails with obtaining evidence. He absorbed their ideas and ideals, made them his own, and tried to improve on them. He had a really good moment when a suspect announced that “only the rathu mahattaya” did not lay hands on any of those taken in for questioning.
The nature of Lumpy’s work at the Special Branch was such that he could not share his memories with friends. One of his mentors frankly admitted, however, that at the time Lumpy had the best circle of political contacts among all his contemporaries, the intelligence he gathered or interpreted often enriched the contributions of his superiors and peers.
Lumpy was steadfastly loyal to the government during the 1962 abortive coup, not out of some special partisan conviction but because he believed that it was the appropriate course for a police officer.
Some years later, the same government, in a slightly different form, sent most of the Special Branch officers back into uniform and out into the provinces, well away from their field of experience and expertise.
Police old timers say that the former Special Branch has since evolved into an alphabet soup of agencies.
Lumpy was in Amparai during the first JVP uprising, and often commented on how extensively and efficiently the task of restoring law and order was supported by Bradman Weerakoon who had also been sent out to the boondocks from Colombo.
Lumpy and his staff were responsible for the arrest of JVP leader Rohana Wijeweera at that time and when a quaking Wijeweera pleaded for protection, he ensured that the man was unharmed. He had learned through the example of colleagues and superiors that the well-being of a suspect was a charge on the officers responsible for his custody. In that spirit, he had been appalled by the death while in custody of Dodampe Mudalali.
Back in Amparai, Lumpy handed over Wijeweera in good physical condition to a team from Colombo for further questioning elsewhere and, later, prosecution.
Lumpy met his lifelong partner, Ira, while he was in the Special Branch. Together they raised a happy and accomplished family which later grew into an extended family that gave him great joy. In his final years, he doted on his grandchildren. Lumpy and Ira maintained a home that was warm and hospitable to a huge number of friends. Their doors were always open, and his guidance was sought by his junior officers even after he retired.
As for all of us who were in his circle of friends, it was a pleasure and a privilege to have known him. Lumpy was fun to hang out with, a great raconteur whose laugh was as infectious as his manner was appealing. He was willing to go that “extra mile” to help others.
Shortly after heart bypass surgery, when he learned that a fellow patient was nervous about his own impending surgery, he tried to put the patient at ease by standing on one leg to show how effective a recovery he could expect. The incident did wonders for the nervous patient but not for Lumpy.
I will always respect him as the consummate professional that he was. I will, as well, always value and never forget his friendship, which, to me, was golden.
May his soul rest in peace.
Ernest Corea |
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