My
Warden...... my Father....
Nimantha de Alwis
I
was in the Upper third form......... and returning home as usual I found my
father had come home from work at the legal draftsman's office in Hulftsdorf. He
had taken the usual number 100 CTB bus and walked home with his traditional
government servant leather bag, which now lay by his favourite armchair on which
he was sprawled as on any other day.
I
was greeted with his usual "mmm.. ...so how was school? And "ok"
was my reply. "What would you say if I became warden of
College?"...........silence..........."why"..............."Bishop
Swithin wants me to be the next Warden."
I
can't really remember my feelings at that time.....wait
a minute...............was this another of
his usual big yams???
The
next few weeks made it quite clear that it wasn't. This was indeed true and very
soon I found even my own classmates in the upper third asking me if my father
was going to take over. And so he did. Warden Neville de Alwis, the fifteenth
warden at STC.. .my father... .Thaththi.
We
shifted into the Warden's bungalow and school was never the same for me. Leaving
home when the bell rang, getting back home during the free periods... to sleep
if I wanted to... life couldn't have been better. Little did I know that all
these advantages had the disadvantages which I soon realized would far outweigh
the pros. But this is not why I'm writing these thoughts... .but rather in
memory of my father.
I didn't know much of the nice things about
him that various old boys, students .teachers and friends have written or spoken
of since his sudden death in June last year. His work in College, his buildings,
his projects, his attitudes, his jokes and his amazing memory. His love for
cricket, his love for the chapel and his dedication to the staff, students and
above all, his alma mater as a
man he was at home when he wasn't sitting in office.... .the father he was.
I often pondered what his priorities in life were.. ..family, then school or was it more likely school, then family??
A tenure of fifteen years is a long period. I went through middle and upper school and nearly graduated from medical school within this time. But there was a pattern in his daily behaviour. His whole life was the school.
Writing an article in memory of him maybe I'm expected to say how much he did for STC, but I think I say this more with a sense of jealousy and envy at losing him for 15 years to the College..... .rather than pride. He would wake up in the morning thinking of some College matter, he would work on College matters the entire day, the last thing at night would be a "College matter". Maybe he also dreamt of College.
Constant reminders and occasional outbreaks of sheer demand from my mother and sister would give him a reality check that we, his family also existed. He would be quick to spend time with us often getting away for a weekend. Only to bump into some Thomian contact.. .Hello sir, so how's College?
With time he became worse of a "collegaholic" (excuse the neologism). We gradually began to understand that there was no changing him. We could rant and rave but it was no use. He was born for this. This was his passion in life. This was his life blood.
A heart attack and by-pass surgery didn't stop him; he was doing what he enjoyed most in life .. ...he was working for his school and his students. There was no doubt about his dedication to both. I was sometimes amazed that he knew the names of every single student in my grade (later did I know that he practically knew the whole school by name!) and he would ask me of incidents, family and social problems and grievances of my class mates which I sometimes knew nothing of! His memory was incomparable.
Dates,
names, incidents, nicknames.....not only of school but' family events would be
recalled with astonishing accuracy. How I wish this was part of his
Y chromosomal gene!
Telephone calls to his friends, most of who happened to have a lot to do with the school (quite coincidentally) would go on well into the night. It was always the same topic. College.
Then there were the personalities that he met ad hoc. A question they were unmistakable asked was "I say, so what can you do for the college men?" and he would go on to make the suggestions.
Big match time was an especially big deal for him.. .when I say time... ..It began somewhere in December the previous year and he would be on about our chances at winning....the ploys that would be attempted and the choice of cricketers and what so and so said about the result etc etc... ..and 1 was the least interested in cricket!. In fact my disinterest in the game stemmed from his almost radical fanaticism of it....and to think he had never been a cricketer himself! I hate to think where he would have ended had he played for the school! .And if college cricket wasn't enough he also had to be the president of Sri Lanka schools cricket and the president of the Umpires federation,
Come March and he was almost like a school boy enjoying the atmosphere in the school, the often unruly outbreaks of schoolboy pranks due to the "big match fever". Any misdemeanor was classed as "big match fever" during this period. Even as head prefect being intent on disciplining students during this time, I would "report" the pranksters, but he would quite jovially tick me off with this excuse, almost as if they were to be excused during this time in the year.
The rest of the world ceased to exist for Neville de Alwis during the initial weeks in March. The generally astute listener to the world news would focus on cricket. First it was "were the cricketers in good shape? Were they comfortable and given all the pampering fit for a prince at Thalassa? The coach and others involved with the team would get a minimum of five telephone calls a day. And long ones at that. Then it was the breakfast on the days of the match. It had to be at home. My mother would be drilled on the menu and he would be up from 5 in the morning nosing around in excitement.
Although the acceptance is that men go through a second childhood when they are within the geriatric population, here was a premature child! Of course, things would be back to normal come the end of the match. But he would find some excuse to give the boys a holiday responding to the usual chant of 'Monday holiday" "Monday holiday".
Life wasn't always smooth running for him. There were those who had the grudges.... "my son wasn't given this....and that". He would be quiet when something bothered him and the family knew it. Telephone calls from his most faithful friends would soon uplift him and he would be back at work. Even when the family had enough of college, he hadn't.
When he left the school after many years of service, and giving time for the school stolen as it were from us, his family, we were relieved. We had our father back for ourselves. No more STC. But we were so wrong.
He was never the same. The drive, the fire in his life was gone. My father and I became close friends during this time. In fact we as a family grew very much closer together. He would be at home when we got back from work. We enjoyed him for ourselves. Finally!
He would be seen in his favourite armchair reading every inch of the daily newspaper and watching every conceivable cricket match on TV and in short, seeming to be enjoying his retirement. But there was something missing and though we all knew what it was, we dared not suggest it. His heart was still at the school where he had left it. He tried in vain to keep the links with the school, the conversations; he even tried to be involved in his legal profession to forget the school. But nothing worked. I sometimes wonder... did my father die on the 12th of June 2003 or was it.............earlier?
But I thank God for his life. A life full of dedication, love, guidance and encouragement. Of sacrifice, and moulding the lives of countless Thomian boys who were fortunate enough to have had him as Warden. He was a true Thomian, and he lived life to the full and worked for his alma mater even more.
He was also a loving father who guided my life, who corrected me and advised me. A man I am enormously proud of, and can strive to emulate. A Christian soul to which the Lord would say "well done thou good and faithful servant".
His influence, his spirit, will live on in the students, in the old boys, in corridors and in buildings.... .in the College.
Esto Perpetua ..........
Be thou forever ......my thaththi, My Warden.