Alexander Fernando, popularly known as Alex, was born to an old Dehiwela family, on February 26, 1932. He lived all his life where his parents and generations before him had settled – in Waidya Road, and he worshipped at their church, St. Mary’s, Dehiwela.
As a young man, Alex liked using his hands and brains to do complex technical work, and when he left school he joined the fledgling Office Equipment Company, of the Ceylon Printers group of companies. Office Equipment Limited sold appliances from all over the world, and Alex travelled to these countries as part of his training.
In fact, it was because of Alex that the Italian company Olivetti International produced the first Sinhala typewriter, which became available in the early Sixties, when state language policy required that business and official documents be prepared in Sinhala. Alex retired as a director of Office Equipment Ltd.
Alex was a dear friend. Some of the happiest and most memorable years of my life were spent in his company. I have many Alex-related memories and stories to tell. We travelled all over the country, courtesy of Alex and his fleet of vehicles. His particular love was a Triumph Speed Twin motorcycle, CN series, which he boasted about to the day he died.
Alex was someone with whom you could have a difference of opinion without losing your respect, loyalty or love for him.He leaves a large and devoted family and many close friends.
Alex married Mani Weeratunga, and the couple have a son, Ajith, and a daughter, Amali, both successful in their respective professions. Alex and Mani have four grandchildren.
Farewell, Alex, may you rest in peace.
Braebourne Edema
Just beyond the moon wait Uncle and Aunty
Shirley and Leonie Samerawickreme
July and August bring to mind a much-loved aunt, Mrs. Leonie Samerawickreme. Her birthday is in August, and the Lord called her to her eternal home in July. Remembering Leonie, my dearest Punchie Ammie, inevitably brings to mind Uncle Shirley, who passed away four months before his beloved Leonie. It is two years since they were taken to be with the Lord. Often, I feel that they are still around.
The love and laughter that was part and parcel of their lives is fresh in my mind. Uncle and Punchie were great fun to be with. They brought laughter and joy to all.
The slightest encouragement was enough for a party. The music would start, the tables would be laid out, and the party would begin.
Be it an old friend, a new acquaintance, a niece, a nephew – all would be welcomed with open arms. The couple genuinely cared if you had a problem. They gave the best of advice. They said the best things when we needed a sympathetic ear. They had the “angel’s touch” when we needed a warm embrace.
I would run to Punchie with my problems, and she had a solution for all of them. She listened sympathetically, and when I came to the end of my tale of woe her face would light up with that beautiful smile of hers. She would give me a big hug and say, “Don’t worry, things will be okay,” and I knew things would somehow be all right.
The beautiful thing was that Punchie never stopped smiling, even during her most difficult time, after Uncle Shirley had died and she was gravely ill with kidney failure, undergoing dialysis every few days.
She smilingly spoke about Uncle, remembering the wonderful years they had had together. Even though she missed Uncle terribly, she was happy that the Lord had called Uncle home before her. She knew Uncle would have been totally lost without her, if she had died before him; he would have had no reason to live on. Such was the love and tenderness they shared.
Punchie said that Uncle loved the song, “Just Beyond The Moon”. I am sure Uncle was just beyond the moon, waiting for Punchie to join him. They would have walked hand in hand to the Promised Land. We who are left behind can look up at night and see the two of them shining like the stars, watching over us until we join them some day.
Uncle Shirley and Punchie Ammie, we miss you. Losing you both brings tears to our eyes. We will miss you for a long time to come, but the thought that you are waiting for us with the Lord keeps us going. We will meet you some day . . . just beyond the moon. We will cherish our memories of you. You will be remembered with love and gratitude, and with a smile.
Joy
(on behalf of all your nieces and nephews)
An old boy who
had the true
Trinitian spirit
Mano Ganesar
Death has taken from us yet another old boy of Trinity College, Kandy. As I sat there in the funeral parlour, listening to the tributes, I wondered whether the cremation of the mortal remains of Mano marked the end of our generation of Old Trinitians who walked the talk.
I say this because the school has been lately in the news, with some old boys using the media to wash dirty linen in public. Mano would never have done that. He loved the old school too much.
When I was at school, Mano was a senior and his late brother was my classmate. I came to know the whole family. My uncle taught Mano’s father.
So, saying farewell to Mano, I am also saying goodbye to a very close member of the Trinity College family.
Mano’s wife and sisters and family and friends are assured of our prayers.
May Mano, along with all the faithful departed, rest in peace and rise in glory. Amen.
Sydney Knight
A man for all seasons – talented, sporty, great friend, family man and true-blue Royalist
Uddaka Tennekoon
Uddaka Tennekoon was a man for all seasons. I knew him for almost 25 years, and, although 10 years my senior, we shared thoughts, feelings and experiences that grew into a strong friendship.
Uddaka’s childhood and teen years were filled with fun, mischief, frolic and music, creatively balanced with his academic aspirations. Having a Central Bank governor for a father did not stop him from exploring – going down different avenues, peeking over the jagged edge, and breathing in the excitement that lay beyond.
His collection of vinyl records of the Sixties and Seventies was the most extensive I have seen. istening to just the first few bars of a randomly selected record, he could identify any musician of that era.
Although he spent much of his life overseas, and could have settled down in any of the countries he had lived in, he chose to live his life in Sri Lanka. He was a true patriot.
A management accountant by profession, he had a stint with Unilevers in the UK, and then became managing director of Mercantile Merchant Bank, Lanka Carbons, Fedex, and finally the Informatics Group.
Uddaka was a voracious reader. He read books of literature, history, politics, religion and the sciences. He was very talented and had an extraordinary command of the language. He could write a song or a verse at the drop of a hat.
His greatest achievement was his inspiration to write a script in English verse for the Guttila Kavya – a Sinhala literary masterpiece based on a Jataka story. He went on to direct and stage “Guttila” in 2004. Here is what the review said: “In contrast to the abundance of imported musicals, Colombo has never been treated to a full-length, original musical where the libretto was written, composed and produced by Sri Lankans in English. It may be because English theatre in Sri Lanka is a niche indulged in by a Westernised elite.”
Uddaka then went on to write, also in verse, “Revenge” – a continuation of the Guttila Story, which was staged in 2008. I believe he also wrote the English script for “Ravana”, but was unable to stage it.
I had the privilege of reading the manuscript of a book of exciting short stories he had written. I do hope it will be published, posthumously.
He also wrote brilliant copy. I challenged him once to write copy for a series of advertisements I required. He came up with 12 samples – each involving a personality from the Dark Ages of history that somehow connected with the product.
A wonderful conversationalist, Uddaka contributed to any discussion or forum of expression. He had an elfine sense of humour, and was quick to convert a situation into something hilarious.
And he had style – whether it was the wine he sipped or the pipe he smoked. Rugby and cricket were his favourites, but he was also knowledgeable about almost all other sports, from Australian footie to the F1 races. Poker was his favourite indoor game, and he somehow always emerged the winner, with a wry grin and a wink. And as the years went by, he became a passionate fan of contemporary jazz, which he loved.
Uddaka kept up with technological developments. He was one of the first to own one of those brick-like cellular phones, and later the iPod, the iPhone, and finally the Kindle.
From his hospital bed he proudly showed me his e-book reader. The Kindle, he told me, contained more than 3,000 books that could be read from a screen, and other books of your choice could be downloaded. The Kindle fascinated him. It became his portable library and boon companion.
Above all, Uddaka was a Royalist – left, right and centre. His dedication, commitment and contribution to the school as an old boy is legendary. He was a very active member of the Royal College Union, and was appointed a trustee. Rugby was his forte. A former coloursman, he took time off his busy schedule to nurture the youngsters first and the senior team later.
He was also a part of the coaching team in 1988, the golden year for Royal College rugby, when the school won all the coveted trophies in the school circuit: the Bradby Shield, the Gunaratne Trophy, the Milroy Fernando Trophy, and the Premadasa Trophy! Not to be left out of the action, he gave commentaries for the Bradby Shield encounters for as long as I can remember.
He was an extremely proud father when his son Sudath ran 70 yards to score a try at the Bradby. Uddaka represented the CH&FC after he left school.
A few days before he passed away, propped up on his hospital bed, he watched the second leg of the Bradby. Unfortunately, the Royal team could not give him the victory (and the farewell) he so dearly wanted. Uddaka was a member of the very vibrant 57 Group, and a livewire in all their activities and reunions. Royal College paid him the greatest tribute by draping his casket in blue, gold and blue for his final journey.
A devoted family man, he was more a friend than a father to his two sons, Sudath and Sanjeeva. He bonded with them and shared all his life experiences with them. He helped them whenever they stumbled, and guided and empowered them with all his love. His marriage to Dami, the love of his life, spanned 40 years.
Uddaka was diagnosed with cancer eight years ago, and from that point on Dami never left his side. Her devotion and love was phenomenal. She single-handedly looked after him. When he began to slip away during the last months, she hung on tenaciously, and finally let him go only when she was sure he was going to be at peace. She had remarkable support from her two beloved sons and their spouses, Lelanthi and Niluka, in her valiant battle to save Uddaka.
He breathed his last in the early hours of Poson Poya, and was cremated according to his wishes a few hours later. The turnout of Royalists, young and old, including the Principal, friends and relatives at his funeral was extraordinary – testimony to the respect and love he had earned from his family, buddies and Alma Mater.
There was a strange emptiness within all of us that day – an emptiness we felt could never be filled. A man like Uddaka, a man for all seasons, will always leave behind such a vacuum.
Jomo Uduman
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