In1973, I started working as an apprentice in the only telco in the country. At eighteen years, with no responsibilities, I suddenly had access to spare cash — a big difference to a college student who operated on a shoestring before his first gig. My confidence was at its peak now with newfound freedom and mobility.
Outgoing I was, I desperately wanted to extend my network and grow my friends circle more. Until then, my network was limited to urban friends from my schools and Uni college, city folks. My home village was semi-urban. I did not have many friends from my home village except the boys I went to school within the city. I was now out to make friends from my home village, my immediate surroundings. The lads from there were not as sophisticated. They were not as fluent in English as I was. Aspirations and outlooks differed on some levels, yet they were good semi-rural youth.
Soon, I became friendly with two lads, both brothers, Cyril and Edward, from my neighbourhood. Cyril was the eldest. Both worked in the only five-star hotel in the country. We hung out together in the church complex and our mutual friends’ homes. We frequented music shows, dance parties, and movie nights in the city. Joining us was a small circle of friends, about a dozen.
Cyril and Edward were very different individuals. Cyril was the elder, Edward the younger. Both were older than me, Cyril four years, Edward two years. Their differences started with looks, Cyril was fair, and Edward was dark. Cyril was genuine, like an elder brother, always looking for his friends. Edward was starkly different, always on the money and out to make a deal. But young as I was, I was friendly with both.
Diverse friends fill different mutual needs. I went on trips in the country with them but separately. While Edward and I were discovering relationships, Cyril was already in a serious relationship. I had a lot of respect for Cyril. Many times, he would advise me to turn down my bravado. Edward was more concerned about making the most of any situation. Edward always borrowed money from others and me, mostly not returning it.
Edward and Cyril hailed from a large family. Four sisters and four brothers. The other two brothers were older, Shelton and Percy. This story is about Percy, who was in his late twenties and some of the episodes that Percy played a part in my short youth span in Sri Lanka.
The secret letter drops.
Mahinda, Leonard and I were the youngest in that local friends’ network. Everyone else was at least a year or two older than us. Percy called the three of us aside and asked us to do a letter drop in the neighbourhood. In our youthful bravado and innocence, without question, we readily agreed. Besides, there was implied trust in Percy, as an elder brother to two of our friends.
Percy then imposed certain conditions on the task. We were to drop the printed papers in secret, near the front doors in the middle of the night. In an age where the young could be easily influenced to do anything their friends asked for, we did what was asked without thinking.
The epilogue on the secret letter drops.
The letter drops contained printed materials with accusations against the local government representative. Percy had a dispute with him in obtaining a business permit. Instead of resolving the issue, Percy smeared the official's name among the locals. Percy was so scheming that he did not ask his two brothers to do his dirty work. Instead, he used the youngest of his younger brothers’ friends as his pawns. It was gross and calculated exploitation of three vulnerable kids by a man in his late twenties who knew what he was doing.
Musical show
Afew months later, a musical show was held in our village. One of the artists slated to perform was Manoranjan. He hailed from the north of Sri Lanka but was also a popular artist in the south. Manoranjan tried to build bridges in the ethnic divide in Sri Lanka, being an artist of Tamil origin who could sing in both main languages in Sri Lanka, Sinhala and Tamil. He transcended ethnicities.
Percy was one of the concert organisers, being in the village youth council. But he secretly organised the young boys to hoot and disrupt Manorajnan when he came on stage. When the innocent lads started hooting, on Percy’s prompt, it interrupted the local music concert. The poor artist, Manoranjan, was forced into embarrassment and to interrupt his singing. He left the stage mid-concert.
Epilogue on the musical show
The young lads had no idea what they were doing and hooted at the artist without realising the gravity of what was asked of them. Percy, a closet racist, knew what he was doing. Deceitfully he secretly organised that dastardly action using the young kids as his pawns again.
Theft of Shelton’s wife’s jewellery
Shelton, Percy’s elder brother, left for Germany. His wife, Monica, stayed back in Sri Lanka. Monica was relatively well off before marriage and lived in her own house, in reasonable affluence, while her husband worked as a temporary worker in Europe. In the meantime, someone broke into her house and stole her large collection of jewellery. It was a big deal in a country where a woman’s worth was measured in the scale of the jewellery she owned.
All attempts to solve the theft did not bear much fruit. The police investigation did not produce any suspects. Monica was distressed. She sought the help of a soothsayer to solve her problem. This particular soothsayer was famous for making a coffee table turn in the direction of the thief.
With much fanfare, Monica’s relatives and friends gathered in her house. Youngster, I was, looking for new experiences; I cycled to their home to watch the spectacle of this soothsayer cum exorcist using his magical powers to catch the jewellery thief. All my local friends and Percy’s family were there except Percy.
The exorcist started reciting mantras. Soon the exorcist turned the three-legged stool into a walking tripod. The exorcist asked Leonard and Mahinda to hold the stool on either side and help it to move ahead. The stool now started to move ahead toward the thief, yet to be found. The two lads stood on either side, ensuring the walking tripod kept its course. The stool kept moving from Monica’s home to the street and onto the main road. Everyone gathered at Monica’s home started following the stool with the two lads in a huge procession. It was a major spectacle.
The walking tripod, ably supported by Leonard and Mahinda, was moving ahead on the main road. Everyone watched the parade with awe, a mysterious movement. The people on the roadside started following the procession, curious to know who the jewel thief was. A major mumbo jumbo was evolving in front of my eyes. I had not seen anything like this. Magical and yet illogical to science.
The procession led by my small made friends holding the stool went ahead on the main roads toward the ‘thief’, yet to be found. It went for a couple of kilometres, attracting spectators in Monica’s hometown.
Up to this time, Percy was not among the crowds. He came in late and joined the rest of the passing crowd. When Percy joined the crowd, the stool held by the two lads stopped. Then the stool moved towards Percy. The soothsayer was chanting his mantras. Everyone was watching the new development and the movement of the stool in awe. Lo, and behold, the stool started circling Percy. The stool had found the ‘thief’.
The new drama meant Percy was the ‘thief’.
Now, chaos erupted. Monica started crying aloud when she realised the ‘thief’ was her brother-in-law, out there to protect her while her husband was overseas. The big family had their dirty laundry exposed to everyone in public. Some family men disputed the soothsayer and wanted to avenge the shame. They cornered him and threatened to hit him. Women in the family started crying.
The family drama continued in the middle of the road. I took off, laughing to myself at what I had just witnessed. It was an epic parody beyond belief and Percy at the end.
More than four decades later, I know the two lads did not manoeuvre the stool. They just held the stool together, facilitating its movement. I have verified this recently with Leonard. The witchcraft of the stool was supernatural. Unexplained to someone like me who believes in science.
A stereo cassette player
After about a year, Percy’s elder brother, Shelton, returned from Germany. Back then, Sri Lanka followed a socialist path, banning the free import of Western goods. Stereo sets were a luxury few could afford. Shelton brought a few stereo cassette players to sell at exorbitant prices. Percy took on the role of the seller on behalf of his brother to make a quick buck in the black market.
In the meantime, the young lad I was, was heavily into Western music. But I had no stereo on my own. It was beyond my reach. I lusted for one. I needed many months of my pay to buy one.
Guess who came to my rescue now? Percy came around and wanted to sell a stereo to me. I was mesmerised by the idea that I could now lay my hands on one. Was I the gullible young guy to whom he could sell a stereo so easily?
Percy came to my home with a National Panasonic cassette player, tantalising the young Denzil. He asked for Rupees 2500. He left it with me for a few days, allowing me to play with it. I was so engulfed with the new toy that I did not leave home that day. I recorded cassette over cassette on the radio. For two days, I kept it beside me. I ate and slept with it.
I did not have any money or savings to buy the cassette player. I pleaded with my parents to advance me the money to pay Percy. But my parents had a condition that I pay 250 Rupees back a month in repayments to them in instalments. That would be 80% of my pay for the next ten months.
Thankfully, the realist in me kicked in. I would have to give up my partying, spending with friends, buying new clothes, going to music shows and short local holidays for ten months. That would be unbearable. I would be a zombie at the end of it. I would be a proud stereo owner at the end of my sacrifices, but I would have no life of my own.
I decided to return the stereo and walk out of the deal. Percy tried to convince me to change my mind. But I had made up my mind. The sanity in me prevailed, and I did not waiver from my determination of the futility of owning a stereo at that point in my life.
Cyril Stanley A story of gratitude — Denzil recalls a friend who looked out for him in his budding years in Sri Lanka Denzil Jayasinghe 11 min read · Aug 27, 2022 1 Give us a bit of background on how you met Cyril. It was the seventies in the sleepy village of Dalugama , my ancestral hometown, some ten kilometres from Colombo. With their flared bell bottoms and Afro-style hair, it was easy to notice Cyril and his younger brother Edward. I’d bump into the duo in the neighbourhood as I walked home after a day at college. A casual hello greeting turned into a conversation and an evolving friendship with the duo at an age when making friends was effortless. However, it was Cyril who reached out to me first. What did the brothers look like? C yril was a younger version of Smokey Robinson and his brother, Edward, a junior Lionel Richie but darker. Both had curly hair, grown long, copying the Afro-American idols of the seventies. Smokey Robinson, Cyril Stanley lookalike Where did they
My experiences of rebellions How waves of violence in Sri Lanka broke a young man’s heart Warning — Distressing scenes described in this story. A YOUTH INSURRECTION DURING MY BOYHOOD 1971 — There was a strong student and youth socialist movement styled on the “Che Guevara” clique. Many poor, unemployed and underprivileged young people joined this movement. My two elder cousins, my father’s brother’s children, Sisira and Marie, were also in this rebel group. In their home. They replaced Jesus’s picture with that of Mao Zedong and Che Guevara. Both of them, teenagers, boldly spoke about a future socialist society. A society in which everyone was equal in Sri Lanka. Young as I was, it was a bit gibberish to me. In April 1971, the movement turned violent. The insurrection began when the rebels started attacking police stations. The Sri Lankan government responded by deploying armed forces with brutal force. Rebels cut power lines and blocked roads with trees in the countryside. Schools wer
Arya Sinhala This story is about the significance of this costume in my family and its cultural relevance. My father wore shirts and pants as any English-educated Sri Lankan male did back in the day. Everybody gave their children English names. I am named Denzil Bernard. A few years after I was born, in the 1950s, Sri Lanka was trying to assert its ethnic identity, a decade after it gained independence from Great Britain. A new prime minister, espousing an ethnocentric identity, came into power. Emulating Indian leaders’ post-independence direction, he gave up his Western attire, despite his Oxford education and wore the national dress, Arya Sinhala. Arya is an ethnic and cultural designation to which the Sinhala race makes claims. The cultural transformation started in my family. My sister, born four years after me, was named Rekha Flora. She had an ethnic name and a Western name. Occasionally my father donned the national dress. My father’s elder brother ultimately gave up his West
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