Itwas 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?
Cyril 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 work?
The brothers worked in the city’s Inter-Continental hotel, the only five-star hotel in Sri Lanka then. I was still studying in a business college and was yet to start my apprenticeship.
Tell us more about your hanging out with Cyril.
Seeing that I had a lot in common, like the seventies fashion and a taste for everything Western with Cyril, his brother and their friends, I started hanging out with the pair. We shared not only our drinks and smokes but also our clothes. We rocked to seventies music and watched American and English movies. Santana was our boy band. We chased the girls, sometimes the same girls, ensuring the competition was healthy. We fell in love and fell out of love even before we realised what had happened.
The local church was a gathering point for our friends. We attended music shows in all corners of Colombo. We went on many a trip around Sri Lanka. We partied like there was no tomorrow. We pooled our money to minimise our entertainment costs. Before the month's end, we were all broke, ‘running on the rim’ after spending whatever little money we had.
Yes, we did many crazy things together as I was coming of age.
Who were the members of this friend group?
Cyril was the de-facto leader. His brother Edward, Suneth, Nelum, Leonard, Mahinda and Ajith were part of this group. Out of them, Suneth and Nelum worked with the two brothers at the Inter-Continental Hotel. Leonard, Mahinda and Ajith were distant relatives of the two brothers. Nelum, Mahinda and Ajith had known me since middle school when we studied together, among them Ajith, the youngest. A few other friends, Merrill, Shirley, Justin and Roshan and a few others, were on the fringes of this incredible network. Almost every youth in our home village knew us by name. We were famous in our day.
How were Cyril and the other friends addressed?
InSri Lanka, everyone has a pet name, even today. I was Denza, Cyril was Sira, and Edward was Edda. Leonard was Leyna and Nelum was Neluwa. We did not know how to abbreviate Suneth; he retained his original name. Mahinda was Mahindaya, Merrill was Meriya, Shirley, Shirliya and Justin ayya, Justiya. So I never called Cyril, Sira, instead addressing him as Cyril ayya. Ayya means big brother in Lankan, said with respect and loyalty.
What was so special about Cyril?
Out of everyone in this close-knit group of friends, I had a great sense of affinity with Cyril. Cyril understood the world of adults better than I did. The youngsters rallied around him. Never taking advantage of his friends, Cyril was the one to look after his friends. He looked after me in embarrassing episodes in many difficult situations where I knew no better. Cyril was the big brother to many. That’s why he was the natural leader among this band of friends.
Now, let us explore some of these episodes with Cyril and you.
Tell us about the episode of Cyril looking after you at a youth party.
Ata party of one of their friends, well before I understood the art of responsible drinking, I had too much and was seriously pissed. I was floating and could not stand. Before long, I threw up all over myself, bang in front of everyone at the party. Seeing my plight, Cyril came to my rescue immediately, steading me. He cleaned, showered and changed my lifeless body and put me to rest and recover, regularly checking on me while the rest of the boys were partying in the next room. That was complete care for a friend.
On another occasion, I was hopelessly drunk, returning after a party during my apprentice days. I got off the bus with a bit of struggle at my hometown. Now on the side of the road, with vomit all over me, I could not stand up anymore and felt lifeless. Village lads who saw me struggling at the roadside passed the message to Cyril about my mess. Immediately, dropping whatever he was doing, Cyril came with another friend, took charge of me and decided to take me home. The way to my home involved crossing a few roads on foot and passing a few streets. It was an embarrassing spectacle, me in the middle, a lifeless self, being carried away, resting on Cyril’s shoulders to the sight of villagers in home town. Cyril did not leave until I was returned to my father's safety.
How did Cyril protect you from a gangster during the Vesak festival?
There was this festival, Vesak, an annual event where Buddhists in Sri Lanka celebrate the birth of Buddha. Weeklong celebrations include many attractions, the most popular being the Vesak pandals. The gang of friends assembled and spent the entire night of Vesak eve walking all over Colombo to see these colourful lit attractions. Cyril led the crowd, herding everyone paying particular attention to the younger kids in the group. Suddenly it rained when we were near a Vesak pandal. We hurriedly found shelter from the rain. Under that crowded shelter, a lad from a rival bunch pulled my neck long hair to intimidate me, gunning for a fight. Cyril saw my predicament and came to my defence straight away. He challenged the marauding hero to fight him instead. The stupid lad got cold feet and backed off. That was not the first instance Cyril came to my rescue.
Any encounters with the authorities?
Wewent to the movies in Colombo city, riding our bicycles, a ten-kilometre ride. After the film, the sun had set when we rode back, and it was dark. The cops stopped us mid-way, not allowing us to pass. With no night lights, we had broken a road rule. The cops threatened to impound our bikes and imprison us for the night. There again, Cyril sprang into action and negotiated with the police inspector, who agreed to let us go without charges on one condition. The inspector ordered the cops to release air from our tires. Now resorting to pushing our bikes all the way home for many kilometres, we returned home late, but safe.
You took many holiday trips with your friends, led by Cyril. Tell us about those trips.
The trip to a Buddhist temple in central Sri Lanka
The first was to Kandy. We stayed at a Buddhist temple at Getambe. The young monk there was a cousin of one of Cyril’s large brood of friends. We stayed in the temple, where I learned about Buddhism, its rituals, and its practices. That was an experience to cherish, with my strict Catholic upbringing. The junior monks in the temple were calm and lovely, often gathering around me during the day. We ate together in the same dining hall. In my spare time, I helped run a small tea boutique owned by the temple. We shared a room with the visitors, including a young athletic boy crazy about soccer and a kid brother of a young monk. We rolled along to the nearby Mahawweli River and visited Peradeniya botanical gardens.
I’d never forget a life lesson that Cyril gave me during that forage into the botanical garden. Seeing a couple of lads in bell bottoms, trying to be hip, in my youthful bluster and haste, I said something not ideal about them. Cyril was quick to advise me not to speak of others less fortunate than me like that. It was a great life lesson that has permanently edged in my mind.
The trip to Jaffna
Trips were a big thing back then; every long weekend was worth a trip somewhere in Sri Lanka. I took a train journey to Jaffna, in northern Sri Lanka, with Cyril and our mutual pals, staying over at Siva’s home in Tellipalai. Siva and Cyril were co-workers at the hotel. We enjoyed the hospitality of Siva’s generous family and the people of north Sri Lanka during our short stay in the Jaffna peninsula. It was a unique experience.
What about the trip to Nuwara Eliya?
With Cyril and friends, I took two trips to Nuwara Eliya. Having spent most of our money drinking beer on the first day of our first visit, we opted for ramshackle accommodation, less than ideal. The second trip was to attend a music concert by a popular local band, Gabo and the breakaway.
How did Cyril come to your rescue on a bus?
While heading to a music show in the northern part of Colombo, a man beside me on the bus put his hand on my crotch. Shocked, I became fiercely angry and was out of control. I could not hit the idiot, for he was older and bigger. In my fury, I got up and shouted at him. Seeing the commotion, Cyril came to my defence and challenged the fucktard. The offender got up, vacated his seat, and went away. Again, as always, Cyril was the first to defend me. More drama occurred when the bus stopped at the destination, caused by the marauding paedophile. The whole episode is a story filled with suspense, which you can read separately.
Tell us how Cyril looked after you at your grandma’s death.
When my grandma died, Cyril and his band of friends spent the whole night with me, helping with the funereal logistics. The next day, I could not hold it any longer at the loss of my beloved grandma. I broke down at the burial ceremony, feeling hopeless and sad. Cyril stood next to me and held me by my shoulders, steadying me as my grandma’s casket was being lowered. Seeing my plight, he put me on his bicycle saddle and rode me home, holding me. I cried all the way home, sitting on his bicycle, listening to his soothing words.
Any more trips?
Iaccompanied Cyril on a trip to Trincomalee, in the east of Sri Lanka, some 270 kilometres away, travelling there by train. We stayed at Shirley’s sister’s home in a beach outpost. The days were spent swimming on the pristine blue beaches, visiting temples and climbing rock cliffs during the height of Sri Lanka’s summer season. It was a great vacation.
Trip to Kudagama
A Catholic church venue in Sri Lanka, in the village of Kudagama, became famous for an exorcist priest’s powers of curing demonically possessed women. Many Catholics visited this church, treating it as a religious shrine. I did not think much of this aberration of my Catholic faith. One weekend, I took off with Cyril and a few friends to see this parody for ourselves. We cycled to this so-called shrine, some one hundred kilometres away. It was a long bike ride, a distance young lads did not think much of. At the shrine, Catholics had congregated, and there were hundreds of demonically possessed young women. They ranted, raved, screamed and rolled on the ground. The rest of the devotees were deep in their prayer chants, probably in fear for their lives; they were witnessing miracles. While they needed to see the devil's power to trust their God, this was a big parody.
What about your activities with Cyril in the neighbourhood?
Asfriends, we attended mass on Saturday evenings in the local Catholic church. We gathered not for our faith but to hang out with friends. Instead of going inside the church for service, we hung out in the church’s corridors, admiring the girls we fancied. It was simply a way to hang out socially.
Cyril is in the left photograph, wearing a red shirt with a ciggy in his mouth, and Denzil is holding a bottle in the right photograph.
Most evenings, I hung out with Cyril and our buddies along the Kandy-Colombo road. Our regular hotspot was a house along this busy road where our friends, three brothers, Priya, Mangala and Jeeva, lived. We had absolute freedom in their home. It was where we chatted, smoked, drank and had fun sitting on their open veranda. On many a day, to kill our boredom, we sat on their parapet wall watching buses, lorries, cars, and bicycles pass by, amusing ourselves.
During the local church feast, an annual event with a carnival, the gang went into overdrive. The church and the surroundings came alight when the carnival was on. Cyril, Edward and their elder brother Percy ran the record bar for the carnival. I helped in the logistics of the bar, my hand-drawn posters donning its makeshift walls. It was a glorious time to hang out with our friends and girlfriends.
What about Cyril’s family?
Cyril hailed from a family on the fringes with several economic challenges. Cyril had many siblings, both older and younger. Edward was the one after Cyril. Cyril gave his entire salary to his mother because running his family home was a hard business. They lived in a small house, nothing like my own, but I was welcome there by his parents and siblings. I knew all of them. Their house was open to me any time of day.
Tell us about the unique quality of your friend and mentor, Cyril.
Cyril always kept his word. His word was a word of honour. Often, by the end of the month, he’d be broke. If he ever borrowed, he’d never fail to return it on his payday, unlike some of our other friends.
The last question is, did you ever see Cyril’s vulnerability or a blind spot?
Yes, back in the day, he was in love with a girl from a rich family. Her parents did not like Cyril because he was poor and from a socially disadvantaged family. They married her off to a rich suitor. Cyril cried insolubly that day. I was too young and immature to understand Cyril’s pain, but that episode is locked in my mind. A young man’s loss, as I witnessed it in a world, I was yet to understand.
Where is Cyril Stanley today?
Cyril lives in a simple home setting with his wife in Sri Lanka. He lives an uncomplicated life and is a happy and contended grandfather. I met him a few years ago, and we remain in touch. Whenever I speak to him from Australia, I take the opportunity to remind him of the good things he did for many immature kids like me. My chats with him are shrouded with his kindness and soft touch. Cyril exuberates calm to me even today, fifty years after I first met him. He is a rare goodwill character to be born on the island of Sri Lanka, a youth leader.
Cyril, about a decade ago in 2012 at his home in Sri Lanka
A related snippet;
Back in the day, when I hung out with friends, I’d return home by 9 pm to study and adhere to my mother’s nighttime curfew. Admiring my self-discipline, Cyril jokingly predicted that I would become somebody worthwhile in time to come. I hope I have lived up to Cyril ayya’s expectations.
The photo was taken at Cyril’s wedding with his friends. — This writer had left Sri Lanka by then. Among those standing from the left are Herby, Susantha, Mangala, Loku Nimal, Leonard, Ananda, Cyril and his bride Kamani, Rienzie, Priya, Lucky, Neville, Suneth, Suresh, Keerthi, Bandula and Roshan. Among the seated are Roy, Raja, Mahinda, Oliver, Basil, Percy and Merril.
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
11 min readAug 27, 2022
Comments
Post a Comment