To us, Dr. Suren Ramachandran was Kutty. My husband Joe was one of Kutty’s oldest friends. I knew Kutty for 40 years, all my married life. In the 1970s, we interacted a lot. Those were carefree days, when the pace of life was slower. There were parties, lunches and dinners at their home and ours. There were the Sri Lanka Medical Association dances, when Kutty invited us to join him at his table. Those days, money was not thrown about the way it is today. We had dinner at Ward Place and dessert at the newly built Oberoi Hotel.
Kutty and Nimo would exchange anecdotes, going back to my pre-marriage days, when Joe was almost a part of their lives. The one I liked most was about a trip to Kandy and the elephant ride, with Joe screaming to the mahout, “Aliya Yanawa.”
During the time we visited Kutty and Nimo in their former home, we would relax in the huge sitting-room and I would admire their collection of antiques and the carpet with its autumn colours.Kutty was deeply artistic. His painting of devotees drawing the Nallur Kandasamy Kovil chariot is a fine work of art. Kutty would make the Christmas decorations and centrepieces for the tables for the Medical Association dances. He found time to do all this with all his work as a much sought after physician.
Once I visited him a week before a Medical Association dance and found the whole place transformed into a winter wonderland. After the dance, I collected a few decorations and brought them home to decorate my home. My daughter’s birthday falls during the Christmas week. If July ’83 had not happened, I might still have Kutty’s decorations with me.Kutty and Nimo never forgot old friends. We were always remembered on important occasions, such as Nimo’s book launches. Unlike other “busy” people, Kutty and Nimo came for my daughter’s 21st birthday dinner and stayed late, although they were leaving for India early the next day, and they sat through the entire three hours of the ceremony at my daughter’s wedding.
We shared a common love for India and its temples. We would often talk about our travels. Kutty said he was envious that I had made it to Mookambikai and he had not.
When life became busier for all of us, we saw less of Kutty and Nimo.
Kutty would come to the Delmon Hospital, in Wellawatte. I did not have to see him often as a patient, but I used to bump into him getting into or out of his car, and we would exchange pleasantries.
Recently, while waiting for Kutty to come home for the last time, Nimo told me that Kutty had told her he enjoyed talking to me. An overwhelming compliment – that a mountain should be happy to talk to a molehill.
I have lost a very good and true friend.
Thilaha Yoganathan |
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