Hettige Don Lionel adorns Flower Road

 

Many years ago, a senior Army officer now retired, told me that a smile comes naturally to Sri Lankans. By way of example, he said that US soldiers earmarked for deployment overseas are actually taught to smile.

Now one may argue that there’s no reason to offer a smile to a total stranger. One smiles, the argument goes, if something or someone pleases you. It’s an expression of joy or some kind of satisfaction over something. One doesn’t necessarily delight in encountering a stranger.

On the other hand, there’s something to be said of those who simply revel in the fact of being alive, of being conscious of one’s location in a social universe and appreciating that knowledge. It makes one smile, sometimes simply to oneself, regardless of the bludgeoning that life and times and people send one's way.

So we smile at one another and it is not a matter of socially conditioned courtesy. And yet, there are smiles which ‘culture,’ let’s say, cannot really explain. We see it now and then but perhaps do not have the time to acknowledge and appreciate its true value for reasons that are of course eminently understandable.  

Hettige Don Lionel’s countenance is signatured by a smile. It’s on his lips, it’s in his eyes, in his words, the tone he uses and his every gesture.

I noticed him off and on when I happened to drive to the HSBC branch down Ernest De Silva Mawatha, known to many, still, as ‘Flower Road.’ I go there to use the ATM. Hettige Don Lionel is there, helping drivers navigate and, when they step out of their vehicles, to greet them. I suppose I must have made a mental note, ‘Such a nice man,’ or ‘what a lovely smile.’ I have, for the most part, responded to greeting with greeting, said ‘thank you’ for the help extended and ‘ennam’ as I left. On the 23rd of May, 2025, perhaps because I was not in a hurry but probably because accumulated appreciation tipped over, I spoke to him.  

I told him how much I appreciated his general welcoming, friendly and helpful ways. He responded, in Sinhala, ‘ehemane inna ona, neda (That’s how one ought to be, isn’t that so)?’ And I asked him what his name was and followed this with other questions. So he told me his story, very briefly I should add, for he had other customers to attend to.

He said he was born on the 17th of April, 1946 in Kotikawatte and that he had first attended Rajasinghe Vidyalaya. He moved to Zahira College later. Then he switched to English.

‘I can read and write English.’  

He said he had worked at Hayleys as a Grade 1 Machine Operator for a while and that he had lost his job after the July 1980 strike.

‘I am a July striker. I was a union organiser.’

He was smiling when he said this and there was pride in his voice and on his face.

He had thereafter worked as a security officer in various companies and had joined Kay Jay Security in 2010.  

He’s almost 80 and seemed quite fit for that age. He explained that he has always worked as though he was a young boy: kolla vage cassava karanakota eke vatinakamak thiyenava (there’s something worthwhile in working as though you are a young boy).’ And he added that the value accrues to the company as well for recognising that someone his age can still be gainfully employed.

‘In my mind, I am young,’ he insisted. And smiled.

He spoke about his personal life, told me that he had married at the age of 35, that his wife, Dayawathi Perera had passed away two years ago, and that he lived alone and without regrets.

Customers came and went while we were talking. He paused to greet them as they approached the bank or bid them a good day as they left. He said ‘good morning madam,’ to a foreign lady who promptly said ‘good morning, kohomada?’ A regular customer, I presumed. He nodded in affirmation.

There are security officers who, just like Lionel, take their jobs very seriously.  They are courteous and helpful, they are alert at all times. They too smile. At least some of them. But there’s something different about Lionel. He has an all-weather smile. He may not have any regrets, but this doesn’t necessarily mean he leaves an untroubled life.

On the other hand, he may have hit a sweet spot in the matter of living; perhaps cognisance of the vicissitudes and the eternal verities, perhaps the cultivation of a resolve to treat things with equanimity. We didn’t get to talk about such things, but we may do so one day.

For now, I cannot think of an adornment on Flower Road that is as elegant. He doesn’t have to say ‘have a good day,’ for that conviction is resident in his smile and in the twinkle in his eyes.

So I said ‘ennam’ and as I left I couldn’t help but think that the HSBC Bank is indeed blessed to have a security officer who acts as though he is also the bank’s receptionist.

The day is good. The days will be good. Life is good. So insists Hettige Don Lionel of Kotikawatte. Just by smiling. I cannot but believe him. Absolutely.

 

[This article was published in the Daily News under the weekly column title 'The Recurrent Thursday']