The Island feature

Origins of May Day demonstrations in Sri Lanka and abroad

This article by one of the country's oldest surviving leftists was intended for May Day. But the postal strike prevented it reaching us in time. Nevertheless, we publish it for the benefit of our readers.

by Desabandu T. Duraisingam J.P., U.M.
M. G. Mendis and I have participated in May Day demonstrations, practically every year since 1936. The Lanka Sama Samaja Party was founded in 1935 and I was elected its Literature Secretary. We participated in the party's first May Day demonstrations, with Colvin R. de Silva presiding.

I remember a May Day meeting held under a tree at Price Park, Colombo, with about 100 persons participating. At that time a May Day demonstration and procession was going along the road. This procession could be seen from our meeting place. There were thousands of demonstrators dancing and shouting, with bands, drums and trumpets playing. This was A. E. Goonesinha's Ceylon Labour Party May Day demonstration. He by then had become a reformist leader of labour, but was still powerful.

I participated in May Day demonstrations, even if May 1st fell at a time when I was abroad. I have thus participated in May Day demonstrations in Moscow, Antanarivo in Madagascar (near South Africa) and in other places.

In 1940, the majority in the Central Committee of the LSSP came under the influence of Trotskyism and expelled a number of leading members, including comrade M. G. Mendis and me.

These Communists formed the Colombo Workers' Club in early 1940. The Colombo Workers Club itself started in a small way, with a small office at No. 61, Hulftsdrop Street, Colombo 12, and later at No. 37, Wilson Street, Colombo 12. The club's first May Day demonstration is described in the book "CFTU and the Working Class Movement" as given hereafter.

"The first May Day demonstration organised by the club was in 1940 and the procession, which started near the office of the club and went to the venue of the meeting at Price Park, consisted of about 15 participants. But, despite the then existing conditions, the 15 comrades had the courage to step out on to the streets, carrying red flags inscribed with the hammer and sickle, and shouting slogans calling for united action of the working class and for national independence for the country.

The confidence they showed in their cause and the correctness of their call, brought tens of thousands of workers to join them within the next three or four years. Less than 200 persons attended the May Day meeting of Price Park in 1943. But the May Day meetings held in the following years, were attended by thousands and thousands of workers".

The Old Guard of the Left. Among them are T. B. Ilangaratne, Pieter Keuneman, K. P. Silva, Bernard Soysa, Dr. Colvin R. de Silva and Vijaya Kumaratunga

Of those who participated in the Club's first May Day demonstration, only M. G. Mendis and I are among the living. The book referred to above was written by me, and it was the first book published (1966) in Sri Lanka on the working class movement.

The concept of having a day for a great international labour demonstration, was centred round the demand for an eight hour working day. The 1880s was a period of many strikes, unexampled in size, discipline, organisation and duration. This was true of France, Germany and Belgium, but especially so of the United States, with its historic national eight-hour working day strikes in Chicago in 1886. Here a demonstration was fired at by the police and several men were killed. This led to wide spread indignation and served as an impetus for the agitation demanding an eight-hour working day.

The decision to have the 1st of May as the day for the international labour day demonstration, was taken by the Congress which established the Second International, opened in Paris on July 14, 1889, on the 100th anniversary of the fall of the Bastille in the great French Revolution. This decision that was taken, is described in the book "Lenin and Asia" written by me, as given hereafter.

"The most notable decision made by the Congress, was the establishment of May First as a day for international labour demonstration. This proposal, made by the French delegate, Lavigne, was in support of the proposed general strike of the American Federation of Labour, for the eight-hour day set for May 1, 1890. The Congress resolution read: ‘The Congress decides to organise a great international demonstration, so that in all countries and in all cities on one appointed day, the toiling masses shall demand of the state authorities the legal reduction of the working day to eight hours, as well as the carrying out of other decisions of the Paris Congress. Since a similar demonstration has already been decided upon for May 1 1990, by the American Federation of Labour at its convention in St. Louis, December 1888, this day is accepted for the international demonstration. The workers of the various countries must organise their demonstrations according to conditions prevailing in each country’.

In later Congresses this decision was repeated, and May Day was established as a regular institution. Thus was born the great fighting holiday of the workers.

In Sri Lanka, the first association of workers as a trade union was formed in 1922. This was the Ceylon Labour union, inaugurated in Colombo on 2nd September 1922 and founded by A. E. Goonesinha. It was his Union which held the first May Day demonstration and continued to have May Day for many years thereafter.

For about a decade Goonesinha was the undisputed leader and champion of the urban working class movement. But after that the Leftists took over and his influence waned off. It was in 1956, after S. W. R. D. Bandaranaike became the Prime Minister, that T. B. Ilangaratne as Minister of Labour, Housing and Social Services, declared May Day a government holiday. It is now a public, bank and mercantile holiday.

A paradise misplaced

By Capt. Elmo Jayawardena
Let's not make our island home become Paradise Lost says this impassioned appeal by a Lankan whose roots are deep in his native soil

Our island was called Lanka in pre King Vijaya times. Valmiki’s immortal Ramayanaya had King Ravana ruling the land from the city of Lankapura. That was almost four thousand years ago. The Arab traders termed it Jaziratul-Yaqut, island of rubies. Some called it Serandip, some Ceilan, from which the Portuguese picked Ceilao and the European map makers coined Ceylon. Many were the names from the many that came, and they all were collective in their comment in the description of this land. Bar none everyone agreed and noted in their chronicles that this island was indeed the complete Paradise.

We never gained it. Let’s be honest about that part. We simply inherited. The Gods from their celestial dome, in their infinite kindness, gifted this Paradise to us, the beautiful island of Lanka, to the people of Sri Lanka.

The privilege of being born and belonging to such a place can only be rightfully expressed if one can take the turmoil out and look though the veils of disharmony that obscure what lies beyond. The purity of the land, still remains, so much unspoiled. the occupant of Paradise, still smiles, in spite of the battering he had received form the time we were reborn after the colonials left. Mother Lanka dawdles, whilst her sons and daughters drowse in ignorance, somewhat a prelude to the disasters ahead.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Ruben walks daily carrying his Malu Kada following the footsteps of his father and grandfather. His son Saman tags along, apprenticing the trade, helps to weigh the fish, cleans the broad bladed knife as his father barters with the housewives, haggling for a bargain. They leave, father and son, with the little boy shouting "Malu Malu" straining his tender vocal chords. The fishmonger to be on his first lessons. No change.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Podi Hami prays every day. That’s all she can do. She and her son Sirisena, did try every possible means, and failed. No they couldn’t get a letter for employment. "Wrong party, not our people", that’s what the man said. Not that Podi Hami had any knowledge of what happens in parliament nor who sits where. She merely crossed the ballot papers. There was always too much controversy in the news and people spoke in such different tones about their leaders that Podi Hami had long given up in her little mind to seek the truth. That was impossible. She merely voted and got branded. Now she sees young Sirisena, a posthumous corporal, beret and braid, in black and white, immortalised in a cheap framed photograph, hanging on the nail infested bed room wall, boring his eyes at her. A sad and constant memory of a war, where payments are made mainly by the poor.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Palitha was good with his hands. He had his clientele. The odd job carpentry did put food on his table and fed Mallika and the two kids. But this was hard, just scraping a living, every morning hoping he would get some work. Some days were good, the money came and the money went. The roof was intact, the water was from the road tap. The basics. Occasinally Palitha and Mallika did go on compulsory diet to feed the little ones.

A TV had to be bought, every one had it, sole solace in the mire they called life. Cricket matches and tele dramas were the only silver lining and of course the eternalized "Always Breakdown" the compulsory must for the ordinary Paradise man. His one and only shot at the establishment that tortured.

The agent was doing him a favour, he said so and Palitha was touched. Even quoted the good book, "many are called, only a few chosen". The money had to be paid up front. House pawned (The banks never let poor Paradisians walk their multi coloured granite floor lobbies) agent paid, passport obtained, waiting and counting days now to fly out to Saudi.

No ticket came, the agent vanished, the debtors knocked on the door. Palitha pawned everything, pleaded and faced the abuse. Mallika cried, the children cried too, not knowing why. They lost their house and their hopes with none to give ear to their complaint.

A torn passport rotted among the uncollected garbage. The stench polluted the air and sent a putrid smell from the street corner to the high heavens.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

A Porsche litters inside a show room at the Bambalapitiya junction. A young boy pushes his crippled father, looking at the cars. The old man sits crumpled, folded along with his worldly belongings, in a rickety old chair that rolls on warped wheels. "Donated by the Lions" says the back.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

A blind man and his woman share their lunch, seated on the pavement of Dickman's road. Someone had been generous. The woman, withered and wasted, raises a bath kata to her toothless mouth and hears the world with sightless eyes, whilst the husband waits his turn, scratching his mottled skin of burnt black. Citizens of Paradise.

The sun goes down and the pavements become the bed chambers for the super poor, who pray for the rains to hold till morning.

These are no fairy tales of my redundant imagination. They are the stories of Paradise. The day to day events that play sad and silent along the cacophony of achievement. Don’t tell me they are isolated, oh no, not by a long shot. They are the unheard, the ignored and the expendable debts of the displaced demises of Paradise. The stentorians are there, loud and clear, announcing to the world and beyond, the inflated paths of progress, with rainbow visions for the morrow, splashing milk and honey stories. But, isn’t there a big question mark? Isn’t there some straining needed to seek the truth?

I’m not talking of devolution and separations. Politics doesn’t interest me. I’m like Podi Hami, totally confused between right and wrong and where lies the light. I’m writing of the core, the very basics that humans search for, Uncle Sam’s stuff, the pursuit of happiness type, the very essence that Paradise should be made of, which I think, is sadly missing at present.

They leave Paradise by the thousands. why? That is a good question. Look around and you will see the answer. They move out to pursue their happiness elsewhere. Not by choice, but by reasons of sheer necessity. The Sri Lankan Diaspora is everywhere, from the chilly summits of Northern Canada to the dry land of Tasmania. From "sushi" land to Swaziland. From the deserts of Dhahran to the lush green valleys of New Zealand.

You see them with their little Sri Lankan "clubs", clinging on dearly to memories of a homeland, torn between a new life and what they left behind. It’s a love they cannot shed, a romance gone rotten, and they gather and lament, speak in sad nostalgic tones and save miserly to visit and spend a week or two in their much loved and beloved Paradise.

Why do these inheritors leave Paradise? Something must have gone wrong in the system. The exodus only began after we were reborn. Hence the blame is not with the colonials and their House of Commons. It is ours and ours alone, lying firmly in the "Pontius hands" of the custodians who were chosen to charter our future, and seemingly have failed in their delivery. Isn’t it a fact that there is a mass cry for employment outside. The mason and the maid lead, followed by the waiter, the janitor and the bartender. Name him, and he is there, looking for agents to send him to some far away Valhall. The banker too and the medicine man, fill passport forms, standing side by side with the young urban professional and the academic erudite. All looking across the sea, from the shores of Paradise.

There are some consolations too, one cannot be totally paranoid. The factory jobs are there for the trade less. Stitching for Marks and Spencer and the likes. Foreign Marks and local Spencer make the mint and scoop the cream and the poor paradisians eat the peanut. Still, it's something to keep the kitchen fires burning. The rest of the "no skills" pawn their souls to go abroad. Local "Dick Whitingtons" charging into the unknown, exploited at every toll gate (there are many) and slave in alien homes in the Middle East and Asia, sending their carefully hoarded pitiful dirams and dollars to their loved ones, whilst counting agonising days to return home.

Fifty years have gone by, the blameless blame, the nameless suffer, the shameless go on, ramroding their way to erode and annihilate Paradise.

I haven't even touched on the mortal sins. Like Muller's "Colombo" statistics. Very accurate and very frightening. You know it, I know it. Now need to further elaborate, the reasons are obvious. Some things happen to be best left unsaid. Let me be the coward and let discretion become the better part of my limited attempts at journalism.

Call me a fool if it pleases you and I'll accept it. But let me trickle some sanity to your thoughts. Just to kindle an interest. Totally non political. I cannot and do not separate the villain from the venerated, the line is too thin and the facts are wildly scattered. The truth certainly is in masquerade.

The Lankan Paradise is not lost, not yet. It is certainly misplaced. That much can be clearly seen, lest one be blind. What happens in the end to things that are misplaced? They never get found and as time goes by, it sure will become something permanently missing.

Ours is a Paradise misplaced. Let us all valiantly search, it is not too late. Let us collectively find ourselves and our land, before it vanishes beyond the limit, and becomes a Paradise Lost. (The writer is an airline pilot with Singapore Airlines.)

The revolutionary in the Church

by W. T. A. Leslie Fernando
About seven decades ago, a young priest was much criticised in Church circles of offering some lotus flowers at the sanctuary at the wedding mass of one of his relatives. Since then much water has flowed under the bridges in Sri Lanka. Now the national culture is given its due place in the Church. And the then young priest involved in the controversy is now regarded as an exponent of indigenous culture.

He is none other than Fr. Marcelline Jayakody OMI, the well known Catholic priest, musician, lyricist, poet, author, journalist and patriot whose 96th birth anniversary falls on June 03, 1998. In fact no other Catholic prelate or priest in the present century has touched the hearts and lives of the people in Sri Lanka than this humble servant of God.

Nevertheless no other Catholic priest in Sri Lanka has been so harassed, victimised and humiliated by the Church authorities than Fr. Marcelline Jayakody. Fr. Marcelline Jayakody was never shaken and faced everything with equanimity. He never hurled insults at Church authorities or threatened to take them to secular courts. He was stronger in defeat and all his defeats have turned out to be victories.

Close To People
Fr. Marcelline Jayakody passed away on January 15, 1998 after an eventful and colourful career replete with ups and downs making an indelible stamp on contemporary society. Like Christ the Master he was close to the people and he always practised what he preached.

Fr. Marcelline Jayakody was born on June 03, 1902 at Dankotuwa on the outskirts of Maha Oya. His mother was a Buddhist converted to Christianity with her marriage. Nevertheless while being a Catholic she had not given up her simple and serene way of life guided and moulded by Buddhism. His father was a native physician who was not bent on making money. He too led a simple and contented life within his means akin to a Buddhist outlook.

With such a background and upbringing it is natural for Fr. Marcelline Jayakody even as a Catholic priest to be drawn to Buddhist culture, the Buddhist temple and Buddhist prelates and take pride of being called "Pansale Piyatuma" (Catholic priest of the Buddhist Temple).

Fr. Marcelline Jayakody had his early education at Madampe Sinhala School and secondary education at St. Joseph's College, Colombo. He entered St. Bernard's Seminary in 1920 and was ordained a priest on December 20, 1927 by Dr. Anthony Coudert, then Archbishop of Colombo.

In the beginning of the 20th century, slavishly imitating the west was the order of the day. At the same time there was a nationalist revival led by the patriots like Anagarika Dharmapala, Walsinghe Harischandra and Piyadasa Sirisena. The Sri Lankans who believed in the western way of life was severely criticised by the well known novelist Piyadasa Sirisena.

Fr. Marcelline Jayakody who always had the love for national culture in his veins read the novels of Piyadasa Sirisena with interest and drew inspiration from his writings.

Fr. Marcelline Jayakody served as an assistant parish priest in places like Kotahena, Pamunugama, Kochchikade (Negombo) and Kandana. He served as the parish priest in Paiyagala, Duwa, Katana and Maggona. While serving as the parish priest he dared to give the altar in the church a national aura bedecking it with gokkola and ralipalam.

Caste Basis
At that time the churches were set up on a caste basis. It is so even today in some churches. In one parish the people who belonged to one caste has refused to accept. Fr. Marcelline Jayakody who belonged to a different caste as their parish priest. Fr. Marcelline Jayakody was adamant and never moved out. Later he won over the parishioners and served the parish with much acceptance.

As a parish priest Fr. Marcelline Jayakody was able to tame tough characters, diffuse caste issues and succeeded in tactfully dealing with the problems in the parishes.

When Fr. Marcelline Jayakody was the parish priest of Duwa, the Duwa Passion play was performed with images of sacred personages based on centuries old "Nine Sermons" in the "Dukprapthi Prasangaya" written by Fr. Jacome Gonsalvez Fr. Marcelline Jayakody revived and recasted the Duwa Passion play based on Dorothy Saeyer's famous play "Born to be a King" while maintaining the traditional outlook.

Fr. Marcelline Jayakody used human male actors for all the scenes except for Christ and Mary. He also composed all the hymns in addition to the traditional "Pasan". At that time Duwa Passion play performed with over 250 actors all drawn from the hamlet of Duwa was considered the greatest Passion show in Asia.

Church Music
The greatest contribution Fr. Marcelline Jayakody has made to the Church in Sri Lanka is in the sphere of church music. In the beginning of the 20th century dubbing Sinhala words to Latin and western tunes was the normal practice. At the beginning Fr. Marcelline Jayakody too wrote hymns specially carols adopting western melodies.

In 1934 Fr. Marcelline Jayakody composed the hymn "Asiri Soma Sapiri Sama" and the popular Carol "Raya Tharu Babalanawa" set to his own music. These hymns became very popular and are well acclaimed even today. Since then Fr. Marcelline Jayakody did not look back composed hymns set to his own music.

In 1940's and 1950's specially around Independence there was a national awakening in Sri Lanka. This national consciousness had its effect on the Catholic Church as well. Fr. Marcelline Jayakody too began to produce outstanding hymns like "Ronata Vadina Bingu Obai", "Nelum Pipeela Pethi Visireela" and "Suvanda Jale Pipi Kumudiniye", with a national flavour. These magnificent hymns with their superb lyrics, sweet music and local setting captivated the hearts of all.

The hymns of Fr. Marcelline Jayakody are simple and close to people. They are ever popular in churches and are appreciated even by non-Catholics. They contain both Christian aspects and national outlook. They are a classic example for cultural adaptation in it's true perspective.

Fr. Marcelline Jayakody was invited to train the choir for the song "Namo Namo Matha" for the first Independence anniversary in 1949 as the composer Ananda Samarakone had gone abroad. Fr. Marcelline Jayakody rose to the occasion, trained the students of Musaeus College and presented it to the delight of all. There is no doubt that this magnificent performance had paved the way to adopt "Namo Namo Matha" later as the national anthem.

Traditional Culture
In late 1949 Fr. Marcelline Jayakody was appointed the editor of "Gnanartha Pradeepaya" the Catholic weekly in Sri Lanka. He set up the caption in "Gnanartha Pradeepaya" in a traditional cultural background. This captain is still continued. He increased pages from 8 to 12 and introduced new features with an indigenous outlook.

Fr. Marcelline Jayakody could not stay long in "Gnanartha Pradeepaya".

The manager of the paper insisted that Fr. Marcelline Jayakody should closely follow the English Catholic weekly the "Messenger". Fr. Jayakody refused.

The manager took the issue with the Archbishop and he ordered Fr. Marcelline Jayakody to present news and articles in the Messenger in Sinhala. Fr. Marcelline Jayakody again bluntly refused explaining that it would amount to translation and not journalism. He then left "Gnanartha Pradeepaya" on his own and went to Shanthinikethan in India.

Today "Gnanartha Pradeepaya" is far for being a translation of the "Messenger". It has it's own identity and the stand of Fr. Marcelline Jayakody is vindicated.

Fr. Marcelline Jayakody underwent some training at Shanthinikethan, the famous oriental arts centre set by Rabindranath Tagore. When he returned to Sri Lanka he was sent to Tolagatty in Jaffna as a punishment for leaving the country without the permission of the Church authorities. Fr. Marcelline Jayakody made use of his stay in Jaffna to make a study of Hindu religion and Tamil culture.

While in Jaffna Fr. Marcelline Jayakody wrote a series of articles to the "Times of Ceylon" on Hindu culture, simple and serene life of people and the beauty of Jaffna. He also presented a Passion play with the students of St. Patrick's College, Jaffna.

From Jaffna in 1953 Fr. Marcelline Jayakody was appointed to the staff of St. Peter's College, Colombo. At St. Peter's with the assistance of Helen Baba Dharmasiri he set up an Oriental arts centre and introduced indigenous fine arts to this leading Catholic school in the metropolis.

'Rekawa'
In 1956 'Rekawa' presented by Lester James Pieris revolutionised the Sinhala film world. Until then most of the Sinhala films appealed only to the gallery. Many of the stories, scenes, acting, dialogue and songs were copied from Indian films. Lester James Pieris got Fr. Marcelline Jayakody to write lyrics for songs in Rekawa and Sunil Santha to provide music for them.

When Fr. Marcelline Jayakody entered the film world many raised their eye brows as Sinhala films had not reached that standard for a Catholic priest to get involved. Rekawa won many international awards and was the first Sinhala film to be produced with a real indigenous outlook.

At a poll conducted by "Sunday Observer" Fr. Marcelline Jayakody was selected the leading personality in the film world in 1956 for the fascinating lyrics he wrote for the songs in "Rekawa". Dr. W. Dahanayaka, the then Minister of Education who presented the award said "If I could write a single song like this I consider it a greater achievement than being a Minister."

Christ established an order who were to live humble, austere and simple lives. Once the Roman Empire embraced Christianity grandeur, splendour and revelry began to dominate the Church. Today the ecclesiastical pomp and ceremony, glamour and majesty seem to be incompatible with teachings of Christ the simple Gallean.

In 1976 when Thomas Cardinal Cooray retired the post of Archbishop Colombo remained vacant for nearly an year. Several priests aspired to be the Archbishop and there were various factions that supported one or the other. There was petitioning to the Holy See in Vatican as well.

Fr. Marcelline Jayakody at that time was carrying a regular column in the "Messenger". He was writing it continuously for four years and sent articles even when he was abroad. Fr. Marcelline Jayakody who watched the power struggle in the Archdiocese from a distance wrote in his column that the best qualifications for a Bishop are found in Gospel values preached and practised by Christ.

This created a ripple in the bastions of power in the Church. And they discontinued the popular column of Fr. Marcelline Jayakody in the "Messenger". But Fr. Marcelline Jayakody could not be thwarted in this manner. He saw in the Buddhist way of life and culture, the simplicity and serenity he could not find in those Catholic institutions.

Fr. Marcelline Jayakody instead wrote a series of poems to the "Kaviya" magazine appreciating Buddhists Sinhala culture. "Muthu" was a collection of his poems carried in "Kaviya". "Muthu" won Fr. Marcelline Jayakody the presidential award for the best poetry work in 1979 and the famous international award the Magsaysay prize in 1983.

'Hela Havula'
That is not all. Fr. Marcelline Jayakody was the author of several other works of prose and poetry both in Sinhala and in English. He was an active member of the Hela Havula and a well known journalist as well. For many decades he was the President of the Sinhala Poets' Association.

Some time back Ven. Ittapane Dhammalankara Thero released a book on the life of Fr. Marcelline Jayakody titled. "Malpale Upan Pansale Piyatuma". This is the first in the whole world written by a Buddhist prelate on a Catholic priest. This work is presented in such a manner that it has provided an opportunity for Fr. Marcelline Jayakody to express his views on current affairs.

Fr. Marcelline Jayakody reveals in this book that in the West, specially in USA Catholic priests are paid for religious activities and he condemns commercialisation of religion. He accuses that some non-governmental organisations under the pretext of serving people do much damage to the country. He deplores the worldly outlook of some priests, their indisciplined and the degeneration of standards.

Those observations of Fr. Marcelline Jayakody would offend some Catholic priests who have formed their own organisations, get foreign funds, wear lay clothes, lead indisciplined lives and attract scandal by their worldly behaviour.

Fr. Marcelline Jayakody was honoured with the "Kalasuri" title by the state and "Kithu Nandana Pranamaya" by the Catholic Church for his magnificent contributions to arts and culture in Sri Lanka for over six decades.

Fr. Marcelline Jayakody is the proud boast of Catholics as a national artist and patriot. (The writer is a former High Court Judge)

Appreciation
Major General A.R.P.Wijeratne

Kalu, Arthur Ranjith Perera Wijeratne Air Raid Precaution, said Mr. Prince, a man of very few words, secretary to the Oxford Blue, the formidable Warden Cannon R.S.de Saram, on that day fifty years ago when our fond Mothers admitted us to the finest school, God, or Gods' created. Kalu was a Kalu other than his always showing sparkling white teeth, smiling from ear to ear. Then we had for friends and school mates, boys of all nationalities and creeds and kind.

There was the illustrious CTA Schaffter, head prefect, cricket captain, and our lower third acting form master. Todate, I don't know his nationality, as I am certain many Thomians would not and do not care to know. The Adamallys, Mohideens, Sittampalams, Jayatillekes, Potgers, Ephraiums, Wickramanayakes, a crazy Solomon from Mathugama, Jayasena from Moneragala. There were the Senanayakes, Bandara-nayakes, Samarak-kodys, Amaratunges, T. Jayalingam, our able wicket keeper, two Weerakoons of high calibre, Bradman and Gamma, also a Gopallawa, Molligoda and Ellawela.

The great life long lesson this great school instilled in us was that we are equals. Todate every boy who crossed that lovely quadrangle lives up to it, prince or pauper.Where did all this go wrong?

Kalu lived at Old Station Road from where he departed. He was a down to earth man - thought aloud, spoke aloud and laughed aloud and his pure thoughts, simple and frank he radiated to all in his own inimmitable style.

When the abortive coup case planned by the highest and finest brains in the land by civil servants, Police and Army Chiefs flopped and all got off on a technical point — Kalu and some other officers and N.C.O.s were incarcerated at Welikada.

He was with the rest sent on compulsory retirement by the then Minister of State Hon. JRJ.

Kalu never had any remorse triumph and disaster were no imposters, he took in his stride smiling.

Kalu did everything in moderation. His ailment had nothing to do with the company of Bacchus, it was a Karmic force, he brought with him.

In 1974, when our daughter was a toddler, she used to wobble upto him in rompers. Kalu loved children and made instant friends, yet he had his scruples. He did not want the girl to see a bottle of liquor - He would say,I remember it as yesterday, "Darling, darling go and have your milk, Kalu uncle must also have his milk" and packs her off, and tells me, girls must not see these, naughty stuff.

The one and only Kalu, boxer, swimmer, ruggerite, par excellence was the most cheerful man one could have met, but no more.

To his gentle mother, soft spoken Tudor and sisters, I say we grieve with you.

"Kindred, Comrades, lovers, friends
are fated all to part
The one who goes is happier than
those he leaves behind"

Jayantha Baddegama