Just the other day, while having a cup of plain tea outside Nihal Aiya’s ‘kade’ down 27th Lane with my good friend Daminda WIjewardana when a bearded man just walking by recognized and approached me. He said he had been looking for my number. My friend interjected, ‘Paththara Malli neda (‘Aren’t you the ‘Paper Boy’ — we’ll come to that later?]. He laughed, said ‘yes,’ and wanted my number to send me an invitation to an event.
Paththara Malli is 25 years old now. Liyanage is close to 50. A quarter of a century and half a century respectively. Should make quite a story.
He was born in 1973, and attended St Joseph’s (Grandpass) and later St Benedict’s College but did his AL’s from Pamunuvila Maha Vidyalaya because he wanted to study arts subjects. The reason tells us a lot about him. A school trip to Kandy saw him visiting Peradeniya University for the first time. The lush landscape, students strolling around, lovers in various corners and the entire ‘campus’ atmosphere outside of these things fascinated him. His father wanted to move him to Baddegama, his hometown but his mother had objected.
Nuwan didn’t get into Peradeniya. He was selected to Kelaniya University but never completed. He decided to join Veritas as their Colombo Correspondence. Not too long afterwards, Mohan Raj Madawala and some other friends had told him that SLBC was starting a new channel, Lakhanda. The opportunity to create something from scratch was compelling.
‘There were two challenges; old technology and old minds. We were innovative enough to handle the first but we just couldn’t overcome the second.’
So, when Chirantha Ranwala spoke about ABC Hiru, Nuwan as well as ’75% of the young people at Lakhanda,’ left. He was hired as a Research Officer. He speaks proudly about the jingles he made and the creation of the Hiru tag, ‘open Thora lovak natha.’
A few days before the station was launched Thamali Peiris had suggested that they read newspapers. This made him remember the ‘kavi kola karaya,’ a character who frequented crowded places such as bus stands, reciting the choicest verses and enticing the audience to purchase the ‘kavi kolaya’ or ‘sheaf of poems.’
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how ‘Paththara Malli’ (or, ‘Paper Boy’) came into being. A few years later, he moved to Neth FM, but ‘Paththara Malli’ still enjoys the No 1 position in ratings for the particular time slot. In fact it is the most expensive radio slot in Sri Lanka even now. This, despite the fact that the idea was replicated by all existing radio stations, radio stations set up later and even television stations, following Bandula Padmakura convincing Swarnavahini to do a television version of the program, ‘Mul Pituwa (Page One).’ As he observed, the cycle-bell that is heard on his program is probably the one heard most in the country; it is his bell, from the Raleigh bicycle his father used and which he later rode to school. This no one can replicate.
I asked Nuwan if the program irked those in newspapers. He said, on the contrary, they loved it.
THAT bell! |
‘I had my ethical standards; I never went into the stories themselves. That, I felt and still feel, is the property of the newspaper and contains the intellectual effort of the particular journalist. I can’t steal and earn money off it. I just read the headlines and made a comment or two, sometimes adding a touch of irony or humour. Whenever new newspapers were launched, the editors and owners would approach me and request that I read their headlines as well. I had good relations with news editors. There were times when I suggested an innovative headline and sometimes I would give an idea or two to a cartoonist.’
Nuwan Jude Liyanage didn’t have it easy. At the beginning politicians who felt threatened by him threatened him in turn. They threatened the stations. ‘Later,’ he says, ‘they probably figured out I cannot be stopped.’
Some claim that newspapers will die a natural death soon. Some doubt this assertion. If they die, then we won’t have a ‘Paththara Malli’ or any cheap or equal imitation. Nuwan Jude Liyanage, either way, has left a mark. As someone had said during one of the earlier celebrations of landmarks, his program is probably unique in that it changed the behaviour patterns of a significant segment of the population.
A 'loku aiya (older brother)' in that sense, that is what he is.
Other articles in this series:
Subverting the indecency of the mind
Character theft and the perennial question 'who am I?'
Saji Coomaraswamy and rewards that matter
Seeing, unseeing and seeing again
Alex Carey and the (small) matter of legacy
The insomnial dreams of Kapila Kumara Kalinga
The clothes we wear and the clothes that wear us (down)
Every mountain, every rock, is sacred
Manufacturing passivity and obedience
Sanjeew Lonliyes: rawness unplugged, unlimited
In praise of courage, determination and insanity
The relative values of life and death
Poetry and poets will not be buried
Reunion Peradeniya (1980-1990)
Sorrowing and delighting the world
Encounters with Liyanage Amarakeerthi
Letters that cut and heal the heart
A forgotten dawn song from Embilipitiya
The soft rain of neighbourliness
Reflections on waves and markings
Respond to insults in line with the Akkosa Sutra
The right time, the right person
The silent equivalent of a thousand words
Crazy cousins are besties for life
The lost lyrics of Premakeerthi de Alwis
Consolation prizes in competitions no one ever wins
Blackness, whiteness and black-whiteness
Inscriptions: stubborn and erasable
Deveni: a priceless one-word koan
Recovering run-on lines and lost punctuation
'Wetness' is not the preserve of the Dry Zone
On sweeping close to one's feet
Kumkum Fernando installs Sri Lanka in Coachella, California
To be an island like the Roberts...
Debts that can never be repaid in full
An island which no flood can overwhelm
A melody faint and yet not beyond hearing
Heart dances that cannot be choreographed
Remembering to forget and forgetting to remember
Authors are assassinated, readers are immortal
It is good to be conscious of nudities
Saturday slides in after Monday and Sunday somersaults into Friday
There's a one in a million and a one in ten
Kumkum Fernando installs Sri Lanka in Coachella, California
Hemantha Gunawardena's signature
Architectures of the demolished
The exotic lunacy of parting gifts
Who the heck do you think I am?
Those fascinating 'Chitra Katha'
So how are things in Sri Lanka?
The sweetest three-letter poem
Teams, team-thinking, team-spirit and leadership
The songs we could sing in lifeboats when we are shipwrecked
Jekhan Aruliah set a ball rolling in Jaffna
Awaiting arrivals unlike any other
Teachers and students sometimes reverse roles
Colombo, Colombo, Colombo and so forth
The slowest road to Kumarigama, Ampara
Some play music, others listen
Mind and hearts, loquacious and taciturn
I am at Jaga Food, where are you?
On separating the missing from the disappeared
And intangible republics will save the day (as they always have)
The circuitous logic of Tony Muller
Rohana Kalyanaratne, an unforgettable 'Loku Aiya'
Mowgli, the Greatest Archaeologist
Figures and disfigurement, rocks and roses
Sujith Rathnayake and incarcerations imposed and embraced
Some stories are written on the covers themselves
A poetic enclave in the Republic of Literature
Landcapes of gone-time and going-time
The best insurance against the loud and repeated lie
So what if the best flutes will not go to the best flautists?
There's dust and words awaiting us at crossroads and crosswords
A song of terraced paddy fields
Of ants, bridges and possibilities
From A through Aardvark to Zyzzyva
Words, their potency, appropriation and abuse
Who did not listen, who's not listening still?
If you remember Kobe, visit GOAT Mountain
The world is made for re-colouring
No 27, Dickman's Road, Colombo 5
Visual cartographers and cartography
Ithaca from a long ago and right now
Lessons written in invisible ink
The amazing quality of 'equal-kindness'
The interchangeability of light and darkness
Sisterhood: moments, just moments
Chess is my life and perhaps your too
Reflections on ownership and belonging
The integrity of Nadeesha Rajapaksha
Signatures in the seasons of love
To Maceo Martinet as he flies over rainbows
Fragrances that will not be bottled
Colours and textures of living heritage
Countries of the past, present and future
Books launched and not-yet-launched
The sunrise as viewed from sacred mountains
Isaiah 58: 12-16 and the true meaning of grace
The age of Frederick Algernon Trotteville
Live and tell the tale as you will
Between struggle and cooperation
Neruda, Sekara and literary dimensions
Paul Christopher's heart of many chambers
Calmness gracefully cascades in the Dumbara Hills
Serendipitous amber rules the world
0 comments:
Post a Comment