Rajeewa was a friend by proximity.
We were in the university together.
He was a year junior to me. I
remember and have recalled those times; happy days that we could never convince
ourselves would someday come to an end, one way or another. We moved from year to year, in and out of the
university. Our paths didn’t cross
often, we didn’t plan to meet. We knew
each other and in the manner of good friends knew where each other was and what
we were about for the most part. So when
we did meet, we had things to talk about.
And yet, there were absences. There were gaps in our perception of each
other that remained right up to the point he left us all. In the larger order of things, this does not
matter much. After all, there is
emptiness within each of us that we cannot put a finger on and cannot ever
fill. All we can do is remember, remember
well and rejoice that paths crossed, moments were shared, that there was
knowing and there was respect.
It is customary in the writing of memorials to recount a life and trace
through anecdote the sensibilities that made a name into a person. We could do
this year after year and re-telling won’t make it stale. Still, Rajeewa was
made of sterner stuff when it came to the eternal verities. I would do him disservice to scatter
anecdotes among unknown readers. But
there’s one thing I missed and it is not my fault: I did not know him as a
teacher. I knew him as a humble, down to
earth, intelligent, friendly human being who never harboured even a trace of
ill-will. Cultured, he was. And that was his most enduring giving. Such things rub off on people without
detracting from the giver. What came
off, we keep, even if we haven’t recognized or acknowledged the gift. His students naturally were more aware, as
were his neighbors and relatives.
A few days ago, Rajeewa’s mother called.
The lady, whom I’ve never met but whose voice, tone and words betrayed
the gentleness that I recognized in her son, told me that people close to him had
written about him. Poems of appreciation
penned by a neighbour, an aunt and a student. She asked if they could be published.
The poetry will speak of a man seen with eyes very different from those of a
contemporary. Let them tell their
stories [See poems below].
For me, it’s a simple matter of knowing he is no longer around but that
he lives on in ways he himself may not have envisaged. So I am grateful, even if my gratitude he
will not receive and even though there’s a line of sadness that runs through it
all.
My Favourite Neighbour –
Rajeewa Uncle
A
warm smile, a hearty laugh,
Countless
jokes, endless evenings.................
Celebrations
of Joy.......
Sharing
of tears........
Your
Kind Heart
Cheerful
personality
Will
so greatly be missed...............
But
in our hearts.....................
You
will be always be alive.............
Young
and vibrant
Just
the way you always were............
The
memory of you will be
Treasured,
cherished and loved............
With
a heavy heart
As
we say Good bye,
We
also want to say “thank you” for all the
Good
times and memories
Purnima
Dearest Rajeewa Sir
Your
smiling face
Your
laughter ... sweet thought....
Your
great advices.......... lovely teaching..............
How
to forget?............
Days.......
Months ........ Years will roll
Since
you left us.........
But
your memory will be cherished forever
Though
you depart from us........
Memories
of you.......... will never fade.............
Dearest
Sir!................
You
will ever stay deeply in our hearts.........
We
..... Your ever loving law students miss you.......
And
all always recollect your loving concern and love for us............
We
pray and wish you the shortest sojourn in Sansara
May
you attain the Supreme Bliss of Nirvana ......
Naduni Waidyathilake
Rajeewa
A
great tree fallen
The
grass greener where it was
To
accept a life so brief
Deep
in ocean’s sorrow
Aunty Titti
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