Remembering to forget and forgetting to remember ~ Malinda Words

’14 players were always ready to help the 15th score a try' -- Sampath Agalawatta

My friend Suranjan Kodituwakku once said that during long journeys he would play Milton Perera's songs. ‘It’s all boot songs,’ he explained. He was laughing. True. All about love: declaration of love, desiring love, unrequited love, lost love and various elements in the grieving process. Lovely lyrics, elegant music arrangements and good rendition, though. Listenable. Laughable too, depending on the mood.

One particular song came to mind: ‘ඇස රැඳුන රැඳුන තැන්වල මුව මඬල හිනැහුනා (aesa raenduna raenduna thaenvala muva mandala hinaehuna or “[your] face smiled [at me] from whatever my gaze happened to fall upon”).’ The lyricist Karunaratne Abeysekera captures well the tendency for the lovelorn to flirt with the pathetic fallacy, attributing feelings and responses to all things, inanimate or otherwise.

The punchline is what I remembered: ‘ඔබ මතක නැති කරන්නට මට මතක නැති වුනා (oba mathaka naethi karannata mata mathaka naethi vunaa or “I forgot to forget you”). It had nothing to do with love. Nothing to do with boots either. Well, not the kind of boots that Suranjan was referring to.

I simply remembered a friend. Sampath Agalawatta. ‘Boots’ are relevant for two reasons. He played rugger. He wore boots. The second has to do with a gift. Boots.

Sampath, who captained his school to an unbeaten season, winning all trophies on offer (a feat yet to be emulated even after 40 years!), gifted his boots to a school friend who, after entering Colombo University, decided to play rugby. Along with a pair of stocking in their school colours as ‘a gesture of initiation,’ according to the recipient, Parashakthi Senanayake, who offered the following post-match comment or rather recollected years later what happened after the game.

‘After the match, I was sitting on the steps of the CR & FC pavilion and trying to remove my muddy boots. He came to me, shook my hand, sat beside me and said “Machan ubala ohoma gehuwanam college gahandath thibuna (if you had played like this, you could have represented the school as well)." I was stunned and almost moved to tears. Slowly I pointed to my pair of boots that once belonged to him. He patted my shoulders and went towards his teammates.’ [From 'A story of boots, books and men']

What has this got to do with remembering and forgetting, forgetting to forget, remembering to forget etc.?

Sampath is no more. He passed away in 2018. Time passes and memories fade. All things decay and perish. Even memories. Loved ones also pass on and with their passing, the fading process quickens. Lessons, if learnt, may remain even if no one remembers who did the teaching. That which is added to humanity may make the world a little more beautiful, but then again much squalor is strewn all over by others. The good that men and women do, fragile in essence, is amenable to erasure of one kind or another.

Five years isn’t a long time, though. And so we recall and cherish. Memory can play tricks for it is a filter that can keep or keep out things related to a person, depending on the relationship. ‘Agale’ was loved by one and all. As the playmaker of his side, he had great touch, with hands and with boot. In life outside the rugby field, he was all heart, all softness. Gentle as they come.

If asked, his friends, colleagues, associates and family would have stories to tell. Many stories. There’s one that keeps coming back, gives strength and hope. It is a short but telling comment about leadership but more than that about the importance of collective effort.

I once asked Agale about the team he led that year. I wanted his assessment of his teammates, reading particular ‘game moments,’ and strategies designed and executed. He offered a capture-all that came with his signature smile and matter-of-fact tone: ’14 players were always ready to help the 15th score a try.’

Unforgettable.

He’s gone now. Of the 15 who won all those trophies, only 13 remain. Agale was the leader but he insisted that it is the team that deserves all the glory. He has said in many ways that the reason he is remembered is because he had a great team.

He’s gone but he would surely have said ‘it is ok if you remembered to forget me, but don’t forget to remember the team.’

And that, ladies and gentlemen, could be a line in a song that will probably never get written but will nevertheless play in the minds of everyone who remembers this man, that year and that team, especially those who played or loved the sport of rugby.

['The Morning Inspection' is the title of a column I wrote for the Daily News from 2009 to 2011, one article a day, Monday through Saturday. This is a new series. Links to previous articles in this new series are given below]

21 April 2023

Remembering to forget and forgetting to remember

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