The Dornhorst Memorial Prize for General Merit is considered by some as the most prestigious ‘trophy’ that a schoolboy at Royal College could aspire to capture. It is awarded annually to the most popular student and is based on a vote conducted among the senior boys, teaching staff and the Principal.
The voting system may have
been changed over the years but 25 years ago the students had three votes each,
prefects six, sectional heads of the teaching staff nine, deputy principals 12
and the principal 15, I believe. Voters are expected to make their choice
taking into consideration both academic as well as extra-curricular records of
the candidates.
I have always believed that
sportsmen had an edge because they tend to be more visible.
On the other hand the
winners’ list counts people of the calibre of Justice Weeramantry and Bishop
Lakshman Wickramasinghe and in the eighties, Hemantha Jayawardena who got the
top marks at the A-L in the mathematics stream in 1982.
I do remember an
interesting story about the Dornhorst. There was in a particular year a
teachers’ choice shall we say and a student’s choice. Let’s call them Nimal and
Saman respectively. Some of the teachers actively canvassed for Nimal. Saman
didn’t canvass.
The vote was over and Saman
had won. Saman was not an ‘academic’ in the strict sense of the word. Neither
was he a sportsman.
He was all over the school
through his work in various clubs and societies though (he later became a
‘professional rasthiyaadukaarayabut that’s another story). The teachers believed that
a travesty of justice was about to occur. The matter was taken before the
Principal.
The two boys were duly
summoned. Saman was told that he had indeed got more votes.
‘What should we do now,
Saman?’ the principal has asked the impossible and utterly demeaning and
irresponsible question.
‘It should go to Nimal,’
was Saman’s unthinkable answer. Nimal 'won' the Dornhorst Memorial Prize for
General Merit that year, although no one in the history of the Dornhorst vote
would have acquired as much merit as Saman did that day in the principal’s
office.
There’s another Dornhorst
story or shall we say ‘a general merit’ story. It happened in the new
millennium. The person concerned is an old boy. My time. A close friend who I
meet now and then. A couple of years ago, I received a text message from him:
‘My darling mother passed away this morning.’
There was mention of
funeral arrangements too. I was unable to attend. I spent a lot of time
remembering the lady.
The last time I met her she
was in an advanced stage of dementia. My friend had a routine, I learned.
He woke up early morning,
brushed her teeth, bathed her, powdered her, showered her in perfumes, dressed
her up and sat her down in front of the television to listen to bana or pirith.
Every day. For many years.
‘You were treating her like
the way a little girl plays with her dolls!’ I observed a few weeks ago.
‘Exactly! I wanted her to
be comfortable and to feel beautiful!’
I remembered the early
eighties when I spent several months visiting his house to tutor a ruggerite in
Mathematics so he would pass his O-L (second shy) and remain eligible to play
for Royal.
My friend’s father was very
ill at the time. He too was suffering from dementia. I saw how he treated his
father. With love. Care. As though he was father and the father his son.
My friend had won the
Dornhorst in 1984.
He was not a bad student
and indeed later on went to acquire several professional qualifications in Sri
Lanka and the UK. Back then he was a sportsman.
Cricket, rugby, basketball
and I believe soccer and athletics too, if not at the college level, at least
in the junior categories and house events. The person who came second in the
vote was the Head Prefect.
He’s now a doctor. The
sportsman was far more visible and had been so for years. He won. No
intervention from the then principal or the then vice principal who I feel may
have favoured the runner up.
That ‘Dornhorst’ was about
general merit. ‘General merit’ is not a term that can be associated with the
way he looked after his parents (in terms of its karmic output).
The more appropriate word
would be ‘exceptional’. No prizes for this, no. He set a benchmark for all sons
and all daughters although that was not his intention.
A year ago, to the date, my
darling mother passed away. She and I had our moments and we had our quarrels. She was in full control of
her senses until the moment of passing and made it a point to assert the fact.
She would not suffer ‘dolling’.
I am not unhappy about it
all. And yet, this morning (October 12, 2010) as I sat down to write something
about my mother I could only remember a person by the name of Sampath
Agalawatta.
He was a sportsman. And
much more. He is a lesson for every child and a wish for every parent. I think
I split my six votes between the winner and the runner up back in 1984. I would
not vote on things like that. I just write. There’s a sense of awe right now.
We were privileged, both
us, to have the parents we have. His parents were privileged too, far more than
mine.
My mother taught English
Literature and was the most giving individual I have ever encountered.
I write. She would not
grudge this ‘appreciation’ which is dedicated to her but is about someone else
and someone else’s parents.
1 comments:
What a wonderful story about Sampath aiya, and so so sadly we and the world has lost a faithful & gentle soul.
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