email from Geri Jayasekara
She pulled strings. He blew his own horn.
The sad news some months ago of the sudden demise of Anula
Nikapotha, née Aluvihare, brought back memories that I would like to
share with the Batch of 1960. We had known her from the days in the
Block - this demure batch mate of ours, pleasing to the eye, dressed in
Kandyan sari and wearing thick-lens spectacles.
Starting, as far back as I can remember, ever since we entered
College, Anula and Vijitha were a classic pair, - pun intended - and
added to the number of other romantically linked couples in our Three
Hundred Batch. At no time when outside the lecture venues could either
of them be seen without a smile on their faces. Just try it and check
for yourselves, it’s not easy to speak for long periods while smiling at
the same time. But they both always did it, while in College, and, in
my experience, even ever after. Rumour had it that they even smiled
while sleeping! Their smiling faces epitomised their graceful and
charming nature that made them the genteel couple liked by all.
For most of us while in the Block, Beethoven, Mozart, Wagner and
Offenbach could well have been among the equally strange names such as,
Bartholin, Meckel, Waldeyer and Hesselbach, that were associated with
our study of anatomy. But Vijitha and Anula were on first name terms
with these celebrated icons of classical music, as some of us were to
learn later.
Music was in their DNA. Anula played the violin and the keyboards
and Vijitha played the French horn. I’m not aware of the other
instruments I’m sure they were competent with. A batch mate who had once
borrowed Anula’s biochemistry notes told me that among the complex
formulae we were forced to learn, there had been indecipherable
notations that had in fact turned out to be portions of music scores!
However, although music was a subject they were steeped in and felt
deeply about, neither of them ever made a public display of their vast
knowledge or skills, and very few, including me, knew of their musical
prowess till much later into our medical course.
I got to know the Nikapothas closely only quite some time after we
qualified in 1965 . We essentially bonded at one of our batch get
togethers, probably the one in 1990 at the Hotel Topaz/Tourmaline,
Kandy, but I’m not quite sure. From then on, we got on very well.
Domiciled in the U.K, on their visits to Colombo they have had
dinner with us many times, with Vijitha often bringing a bottle of
single malt Scotch. These were occasions for interesting chit-chat on
anything other than medical topics or people in medicine. At these, I
tapped their vast knowledge of most things worth knowing in music, but
could butt in only occasionally.
Constructed in the likeness of the proximal convoluted tubule of
the nephron, the French horn, when uncoiled, would measure, without
exaggeration, about twelve feet. This was the only worthwhile bit of
knowledge I had to show off about the instrument played by Vijitha
during one such conversations over a drink. It was in stark contrast to
the bountiful knowledge they both possessed about various musical
instruments. Once, having told me that the French horn was a treble clef
instrument though it frequently played in bass clef, and proceeding to
the supposedly accepted practice of keeping the horn as an F instrument,
Vijitha went on to relate that it was a German, Fritz Kruspe, who is
credited as being its likely inventor. Frankly, I couldn’t care a clef
about all that worthless tosh, and if I hadn’t distracted him with
another drink, for all I know he would’ve possibly gone on to tell me
the names of Fritz Kruspe’s in-laws!
Anula’s visits here were mostly for professional purposes, as she,
without any ostentatious show of goodness, contributed extensively to
further the local scholarship in child psychiatry. Little known to many
was her keen interest and involvement in the upliftment of the children
who had been affected by the extended conflict in the country. This, and
her altruism in obtaining financial support for them are not only
noteworthy, but are also to be admired and applauded.
Roshi and I visited London only very rarely. When informed of our
last visit, Anula had arranged a memorable treat for us. The evening
commenced with a stage play, the ‘Showboat,’ at the Gillian Lunne. That
thoroughly enjoyable performance was followed by an extended stroll in
the busy and interesting environs of the Royal Opera House and the
Covent Garden Market. Winding up at their town apartment, we indulged in
a bottle of exquisite Cabernet Sauvignon Paso till the empty was
discarded to the recycling bin. The culmination of that delightful
evening was a sumptuous dinner at a cosy little Italian restaurant, the
delicious food being enhanced by a flavorful Pilastri Rosso Piceno.
Those entrenched to their gills in music erroneously think that all
others are too. I can’t read a note, and my interest in opera knocks
off around the pleasantly listenable and less serious ones such as
‘Carmen’ and the ‘Marriage of Figgaro.’ At our place once, the casual
statement that I had seen the former opera performed at the Royal Albert
Hall had given Vijitha the misconceived notion that I’m an opera buff,
which I definitely was not. No sooner he went back to London, he had
posted me DVDs of some famous operas. How very nice of him. But to me,
their titles were so serious, and I took a considerable time just to
pronounce them! Listening to one, the shrill, ear-piercing notes of the
Prima Donna gave me goose pimples and Roshi came out in a thin sweat.
But, I mean to say, what a generous thought that was.
Even though I would never listen to them, I didn’t have the heart
to give these DVDs away to any opera lover, however deserving they were.
They are somewhere in the house though I know not where. And there they
will remain, the knowledge reminding us of the lovely couple who
considered us, their friends.
Vijitha, whenever we meet, we talk about the nice times we’ve had
over the years, in Medical College and after. As we continue to advance
in age, we must continue to reminisce. So visit us soon, Roshi and I are
looking forward to it - and there’s a 15 year old Dalmore reserved for
the occasion!
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Nov 24, 2019, 9:42 PM (6 hours ago)
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