I was woken up on Wednesday, November 11, by a call from a friend in the UK to give me the sad news of the demise of veteran artiste Henry Jayasena.
I had met Henry only two months earlier, at a dinner party in Colombo, when I was in Sri Lanka for a short holiday. He was hale, hearty and jovial, but there was a tinge of sadness about him. His mood had changed with the death of his beloved wife, Manel, three years earlier.
I cherish my memories of working with Henry Jayasena. I called him Piyal, after the character he played in the film “Gamperaliya”. We did three major films together. Our friendship stretched over a period of five decades. Whenever we met, we talked about the good old days, making “Gamperaliya”, and later “Kaliyugaya”.
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| Punya and Henry as Nanda and Piyal in the movie Gamperaliya |
He was more of a big brother to me than a fellow artiste. We had long, serious discussions about cinema, theatre, literature, and other topics.
Bernard Shaw said “simplicity is the canon of high art”. Everything about Henry was simple. His dramatic creations, his lyrics, his poetry, his acting method, his literary work, his dress, his behaviour, his walk, his mesmerising smile – all were genuine, heartfelt, and simple.
In “Gamperaliya”, Piyal gives Nanda (the character I play in the film) the book “Robinson Crusoe” to read. He is tutoring her in English. Unable to express his feelings for her in speech, he smuggles a love letter or two inside the books he passes on to her. In real life, Piyal would send me his literary works, and almost all his books had a letter for me tucked between the pages.
I believe it was in his “Nim Nethi Kathaavak” (“Endless Story”) that he referred to Zambia as a Scandinavian country. I immediately wrote to him and pointed out that Zambia was a landlocked country in central Africa, where we had been living for a couple of years. He wrote back saying he regretted the mistake, adding that he never scored more than 4 out of 100 for geography at school.
Simple and unpretentious as he was, this great man had no airs. But he did have an aura of dignity that went with his simplicity. His many talents extended into theatre, television, literature, and translation work. At the time of his death, he was in the middle of translating the biography of a celebrity into Sinhala.
After the death of Manel, his wife and soulmate, Piyal became a lonely man. Thanks to Manel and their only son Sudaraka, Piyal enjoyed a happy life of retirement, surrounded by his son’s family and grandchildren.
Whenever I was in Sri Lanka, I made it a point to call or visit him. When he received an honorary degree from his alma mater, Nalanda College, I called and addressed him by his long and decorative title. He was silent for a moment, then said, “Is that Punya calling”?
He would gently reprimand me if I ever forgot his birthday.
When he became a heavy smoker, I expressed concern for his health. He retorted.“Yako, umba mage ammada, mata cigarette bonna epaa kiyanne?” (Are you my mother to tell me not to smoke?). I apologised. I said, “I may not be your mother, but I am like your sister. As a national treasure, you are obliged to listen to lesser mortals like us. You had a nasty illness and you are in remission, so don’t add fuel to the fire by smoking.” He calmed down, but he did not give up smoking.
Our lighthearted banter was very much in the spirit of a big brother and an erring little sister having an argument, rather than two fellow artistes sparring.
He lived to see the revival of “Gamperaliya”, and the French accolades that were bestowed on the restored version of this masterpiece of Sinhala cinema.
Now, one half of the “Gamperaliya” duo – Piyal and Nanda – is no more. Another multi-talented national treasure – multi-faceted Lankan jewel – is gone. The “all-in-one” individual, such as Henry Jayasena was, is a very rare phenomenon.
As a fellow artiste I was privileged to have worked and associated with him. The world of cinema, theatre, television and literature will miss him, but his creations will live on in the hearts of his colleagues, fans and family.
Goodbye, Piyal. Goodbye, Henry Aiya. May you attain the supreme bliss of Nibbana.
Punya (“Nanda”) Heendeniya |
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