On His Return to Sydney He Wrote

• 2010 COLOMBO

On a visit to Sri Lanka in 2010, Shiraz is dragged by an unseen force to connect with his classmates from Wesley. He manages to corral a few of them for dinner – thosai is his choice. He preferred to eat the thosai and sambar the native way - with his fingers, which is his taste buds savoring the food a little ahead of the mouth.

During the interlude of some 45 years Shiraz had acquired a soft cheerful mien, leavened by a languid pace for life and a complexion the colour of medium toast.

On his return to Sydney he wrote:

“….. It was a great moment in my life to have been reunited with my close friends.

It tookus awhile to get over the nostalgia, returning fromour beautiful motherland. It is and will be a great country to live in andwould be our final destination.

Received all photos except the group photo that was taken in the foyer of the hotel just before we bade farewells.

Returned with a sense of sadness.

Looking forward to another trip so that we could have one big and memorable reunion. Thanks

Shiraz

There is a niggling alien that needs to be taken care of, but for now Shiraz chooses to keep it private.

He continues to write to his dear friend Yusuf:

MM,

Thanks for keeping me in the loop.

I remember Amit very, very well. If I am not mistaken he was quite broad shouldered and also had rather curly hair and fairly dark in complexion. He may have brought some interesting photos to class if I remember correct.

Someday I wish we could all meet in good old Sri Lanka. Those were the really great days.

Brian, remember visiting your apartment with Cavan and heading down to the natural swimming pool near the Galle Face Light House.

M. M. YUSUF sadly remembers:

Reminds me of the good old days when Cavan and I used to go for late shows and put up at his place at Havelock Road. I am speechless.

The curly hair on Amith’s tonsure Shiraz refers to was so curly it was more pubic than cranial. Amith was a mainframe type of guy with an incongruously high-pitched adenoidal voice that did not match his physical persona. Shiraz would often make fun out of him for sneaking into class with pictures of semi-naked local women – gorgeous young starlets with curvaceous figures bathing in paper thin translucent diya-reddhas.

Shiraz would reminisce with a particular fondness about a trip to Nuwara Eliya.

Continuing from Sydney he writes:

To all my dearvery close friends,

Years have gone by but I can yet re trace every moment of that eventful trip in April 1966 - Cavan, Chou Min the Evergreen Kaim, Rehez and myself. May the Almighty bless you all.

“I did make the trip to Bandarawala and on our return we did come via Nuwara Eliya andshowedmy wife and others traveling,the road leading to your Uncle's home opposite the lake. Trip did take me down memory lane….”

APRIL 1966 NUWARA ELIYA

Time passes and memory conforms to what we think we remember. We excavate through the sediments of the past, sieving for details.

Shiraz is on a trip with his friends Cavan, Chou-Min, Kaim and twin brother Rehez whilst awaiting the GCE/OL results when the rare opportunity to sail presented itself to the boys - they temporarily purloined a boat and set sail down Gregory's Lake. While ChouMin was complaining that one of his shoes had fallen off the boat the twins engaged in an altercation (as they often do) of how best to remedy this brain-baffling conundrum. The boat almost capsized when one of the twins stood up to physically thrash the other one because of his outrageous idea that ChouMin should drop the other shoe too into the miasmic water for symmetry.
In the meantime the boat owner having realized that his boat was no longer in dry dock, fumed with rage when he saw 5 rambunctious teenagers, drifting along rudderless in his boat, in the middle of the lake, paying little heed to his expletives - his fat mouth is a tsunami of rotting cockroach dung. Shiraz clearly recalls the boat owner's futile attempt to get the boys attention - his continued venomous spitting in their direction like a pit viper laced with the choicest profanities was getting no results. His orotund bellowing disappeared like a fart does in the wind.
He then proceeded to squeeze his nostrils between thumb and forefingerblowing noisily and drawing forth a thick glob of glutinous yellowish silver arc of muck and threw that at the boys – like natives dashing coconuts to draw the wrath of the gods. He wiped his fingers on the sides of his thigh to get rid of the residue while reminding the boys of their illegitimate births, colorfully describing the part of their maternal anatomy that delivered them to this world and threatening them with the most violent and creatively acrobatic forms of fornication that he would delightfully muster upon them and their mothers if he could only lay his slimy little fingers on them - all this, while air-humping to demonstrate how he would achieve this obscenely contorted act.
His hand gesture reminded Shiraz of Aladdin's genie-container begging to be rubbed - his very own magic lamp concealed under the banana-hammock (read: amude) he wore to wade into the water.
The more scathing his anger, the louder the boys laughed adding to his seething volcano of fulminating fury. The boys were simply thrilled to be entertained by such bombastic theatrics - no money could ever buy this form of entertainment.
Had the boat capsized that balmy April afternoon in 1966, the narration of this colorful incident would have been unceremoniously submerged in the icy cold waters of the Gregory’s Lake - for none of the boys knew how to swim well.

It was death however, that punctuated this adventure in April 1966. Shiraz volunteered to accompany Kaim back to Colombo to attend to his father’s funeral.

The steam engine whistles and the train jolts forward, slowly, from the Nanu-Oya station, the cars jerking, as the engine pulls the slack and the couplings tighten. During the overnight mail-train ride from Nanu-oya to Colombo, the two teenagers sit listening to the rhythmic clacking of the railway sleepers beneath them and when sleep eluded them both, Shiraz offered Kaim counsel to comprehend the enormity of this sudden change, for Shiraz coeval to Kaim, had already experienced the loss of his own father.

KAIM SAMAHON recalls:
Everything lurches forward as the brakes start their piercing metal-on-metal shriek when the overnight mail-train from Nanu-Oya finally chugs into the Fort Railway station around 8 am April, 11th. 1966 - a time, when Dudley Senanayake is the Prime Minister of Ceylon, Aleric's at the Piccadilly Circus, Wellawatta, is an exclusive hang out place, the "authentic" bombai muttai is plentiful in supply and cricket matches in distant venues are conjured up by listening to ball-by-ball radio commentaries on Rediffusion speaker boxes.

Shiraz, rather reluctantly, leaves me at the Fort Railway station to find my way home. I am now a forlorn zombie and as I trudge on the sidewalk with thick sad gestures, the crowds part and pass me like I’m a stone in a stream.

Shiraz hurries home with no sleep when his sister Marina solicits his service to babysit her newborn while she runs a few quick errands. He does not have the heart to refuse Marina and unquestionably agrees to keep his nephew company hoping Marina would return in time for him to attend his friends Dad's funeral - yet another gesture he wishes to extend, to comfort his bereaved friend and as a final modicum of respect for the departed.
The wait is excruciatingly long and it is midafternoon before Marina finally returns.
He rushes out the door, with no food in him, eyes swollen and puffy with no sleep and hops on to the ubiquitous CTB double decker bus that would take him to the funeral house. Whilst in the bus with fatigue enervating wakefulness and eyelids drooping from sleep-deprivation he sees the funeral procession at a distance, slowly snaking its way in the opposite direction towards the burial grounds. He rings the bell from the upper deck several times, darts down the short, narrow, spiral stairway and lopes off the moving bus to join the procession.
What is singed in my memory is a young 16 year old Shiraz, in starched white pants, crisp white shirt buttoned at the wrists, wearing a little white skull cap and covered head tilted to a side in commiseration, the sun pouring like warm liquid on his head, leading the funeral procession all the way to the burial grounds.
These are indelible memories, tinged with sadness that would make even tombstones cry.

Death has this much to be said for it.
You don’t have to get out of bed for it.
Wherever you happen to be
They bring it to you – free. Kingsley Amis

2011 COLOMBO

A quick second trip to Sri Lanka finds Shiraz in the company of a larger group of classmates. There is a palpable sense of camaraderie as his friends host him for a long leisurely lunch on a Poya day – what would end up to be the last time they get to meet him.

Gravid after lunch, tears well up making eyes shine with unshed tears as his friends bid him farewell.

A long and final hug with a torrent of tears damping his toffee colored cheeks he bids farewell cognizant that this may perhaps be the last of his travels to Sri Lanka. The thought filled him with anguish. His mouth wobbled like he was about to cry, his face twisted as sadness tore through his chest muscles and swelled its passage up his throat.

It is monstrously painful for him when asked about his desire to settle back in Sri Lanka - the response remained bottled in his throat, for deep inside him he is faintly aware that the niggling alien can now no longer be ignored.

On Nov. 16th. 2011 he wrote:

I was in hospital recovering from an operation. I am well andback at work.

Kaim please convey my sincere wishes to all our mates.

It’s great to hear the likes of Sextus Taylor, Cassim Cader.

I can write volumes aboutmydear friendsyet not having sufficient words to express my sincere feelings.

It was great meeting Hassan Mohamed, thanks to you Kaim and was thrilled to see him smokingin the hotelfoyer. I believe my sis had met IsmailHamidon. I can't helplaughing right at this moment, when I remember Eric Gauder receiving a thundering slap fromMr Dabreira.

The day prior to leaving Sri Lanka I met Nihal at the College Club House. He had not changedone iota both in manners, speech and physical appearance. I was so pleasured to see him despite the short notice.

Kaim, time has not got the better of me …… yet

JANUARY 1963 COLOMBO

The 1963 Form III class is absolutely delighted to have another pair of identical twins amongst them.

The truck loads of fun and laughter with the first identical pair Ishak and Ismail Hamidon prepared the class for the next - Rehez and Shiraz. It was a privilege to have not one but two pairs of identical twins in class – the class is blessed with twice the fun.

When the entire history of Wesley College can only boast of a handful of identical twins such as the Batuwitage twins (Gamini and Chula), the Rajasingham twins who opened batting for Wesley and the Jeganathan twins, this class has been doubly blessed with TWO pairs of identical twins.

Mistaken identities, girlfriends going on dates with the other twin, dentists extracting teeth from the wrong mouth, movie theatre ushers tricked into believing that they may have been hallucinating, teachers refraining from punishing one twin because it makes the other twin cry - the class was not disappointed for they delivered as expected fun, joy and laughter.

Trinity’s loss was Wesley’s gain when these two colorful 13 year olds joined Wesley College bringing with them a passion for life, laughter and rugby.

Shiraz and Rehez would spend a brief 5 years at Wesley College forging lifelong friendships.

The Orbit of Friendship

What merits mention here is that this class has the power to pull students into its social orbit and keep them there, much like the gravitational pull of a cosmic black hole. A blind force would inexorably drag them into its turbulent vortex and keep them firmly manacled to its orbit. All other previous social orbits would be greatly attenuated or made redundant.

The special bonding one is serendipitously subjected to here in this class is simply stupendous. Students pulled into its vortex recalibrate their social orbits to stay firmly tethered.

Many have experienced this, take for instance:

• Ma Hung, Chou Min, Cavan Gauder, Richie Morrison, Ronnie Rahim, Andrew Visvalingam - they all joined this class much later in secondary school and have all but forgotten their previous social orbits
• Or like Nihal Peiris and Jeeva Devadason who joined this class in Upper School from the Sinhala and Tamil mediums – they both have re calibrated their orbits
• Or the ones who left early like Wilhelm Van Geyzel and Marquil Masrur – they still orbit around this class
• Or Errol Dickman who left this class for Pakistan and came back to join this orbit

It is not surprising then that both Shiraz and Rehez would be dragged into this turbulence, recalibrate their orbits and forge lifelong relationships with members of this class.

The Hostel

Akbar Musafer vividly recalls the commencement day at Wesley for the Ahlip twins. Mrs. Ahlip a very amiable and ample lady sat with Akbar on a bug infested fibre mattress in the hostel seeking his help.

AKBAR MUSAFER narrates:

I still remember the day you both joined the hostel after leaving Trinity.

On that occasion I vividly recall having a long chat with your mum, seated on a bug-infested fibre mattress that we had become so immune to. Her first words were that I should help & guide you guys through a smooth transition into Wesley's school & hostel culture. I'm sure you remember that day. However, I did not have to do much as you both slipped into the existing culture with consummate ease from Day 1! We were inseparable from then on.

Many more events from our hostel days come flooding my mind ---

- remember when we RAN to the Otters pool soon after lunch because we had no bus fare -- a princely 10 cents at that time !! During such swims, poor Shiraz being a very poor swimmer, was purposely kept in the centre of the pool huffing, puffing & gasping for air surrounded by his sadistic mates & clinging on to the closest guy for dear life until sympathy took over & was permitted to cling to the edge !!

- another memorable incident was when we were permitted one matinee (10.30 a.m.) show per month on attaining 'Senior status' ! During the early sixties 2nd Class tickets were Rs 1/10 & we were able to convince the management at theatres that we were entitled to half-rate which was -/55 cts. Although we were well above the accepted age. However, on this occasion we carried the bluff too far & one SOB of a doorman at the Savoy simply refused to pay heed to our numerous pleas. We now had a serious problem -- we not only had insufficient cash for the show but would also have to miss-out on the more important, must-have, 5 cent thosai/ masala vadai clout which was vital to complete our day ! Desperate situations require desperate measures ;--ENTER SHIRAZ who volunteered to run to his sister Marina's place somewhere down Dickman's Rd.to obtain the shortfall!! The balance cash was brought within 1/2 hr. thanks to Usain Shiraz, but with his tongue hanging-out!the film, 'Magnificent Seven' was well worth the trauma & the Thosai was truly divine !

- another incident that I recall was when I chased Shiraz down Karlshrue Gardens all the way to Campbell park to get my revenge for being mistakenly hit by a shoe whilst yours truly was having his afternoon siesta in Intermediate B dormitory !

Those were some incidents that I recall during OUR GOOD OLD DAYS at Wesley. Certain other conspiracies & escapades I have had to censor but was in relation to the fact that there were several very healthy papaw trees growing behind Edmund Dissanayake's ( Pigeon) house near the tennis court & going for a show once a month which was simply not acceptable to us 'seniors' !!,