BY RANDIMA ATTYGALLE
Thaththa- ‘the silver haired daddy of mine’ is 70 today. Yet, in my heart you are still the young father with the full head of black hair who was far too young to have had me at 25! At 41, when you stood at the school gate amidst many other fathers with their peppery hair settling in, me- the 16-year-old wished you were at least 10 years older!
You still carry us the same
I was the first infant you carried for the first time in your life. With your unconditional fatherly love in which you wrapped me, you passed on to your first born a good share of your eccentricities and obstinacy. We have been partners in crime and we will continue to be so, fanned by our perpetual greed for chocolate.
My childhood was any child’s dream. I was the cynosure not only in the eyes of my grandparents but in a bevy of other athas, athammas and uncles and aunts. Mid-night baths with wooden elephants, chocolate and toffees just before meals times and a miniature play-house with all authentic kitchen utensils were provided at a wink of an eye. My grandfather’s (atha’s) first grandchild- I was indulged by him. Thaththa probably maintained the ‘checks and balances’ over his unruly first born. When I would take things too far, it was he who instilled order.
Our deeply rooted tree which holds us together
A man of ‘filing’ and ‘clipping’ you alas passed this neatness and order to me and I compounded it! I can hardly recollect a day that you were late to pick me at the school gate. I smile recollecting how you neatly placed the school fees receipt in my pencil box weeks before the due day. In my growing-up years you had eyes of a hawk! When the best time of a party arrived, I was already ushered home to my frustration and wrath.
But thaththa, you surprised me at several critical junctures of my youth…
At 19, fresh out of school, you let me take wings to a world of opportunities as well as trappings. You who tirelessly drove me to school for 14 years and kept vigil over me in your guarded nest, left your 19-year-old in at the gates of Wijeya Newspapers on a bright sunny morning many years ago. Rest is history…
Today when I look back, I marvel at your confidence in me, how certain you were of the ‘less traversed road’ I had taken.
As a new father (L) and a young grandfather (R)
At 21, when I was second year Law student and a university undergraduate, you placed my collection of poetry impulsively written, printed a birthday gift like no other.
When I permanently exchanged my ‘black cloak’ for the ‘pen’ you had no remorse. I recollect your brimming pride and your moistened eyes each time I came on school stage for a prize… I saw it all over again each time you watched me clinch a journalistic accolade.
You kept malli and I safe in your nest and you continue to be our giant tree of shade and deep roots for our children too. You would move heaven and earth for your children. When malli and I fell sick, you kept midnight oil burning. You did the same for Samadhee, Devinda and Nithil. We fell asleep in your arms to your soothing timbre of bilinda nelawe ukule. Years later, Samadhee dozed off in your arms as you sang her maa bala kale.
You continue to watch Samadhee growing into a young woman, ready to hold her hand even at 18. Each time I hear Samadhee resonating that magical word atha I count my blessings…
I only know too well that although your love and affection is open and public, your grief is extremely private…
I simply cannot condense my thaththa to a few pages nor can I cover him in one edition of a newspaper.
Samadhee with atha and athamma
I celebrate you today as a man who is an epitome of ‘contentment and inner peace’. A man who would live life to his rules fearless of what the world outside would say. Although you may not know, you live a life that many would be envious of… At 70, I watch you living a life of tranquility among your orchids, coconut groves and by the Bolgoda waters.
I only wish I were once more the four-year-old who had you all to myself as we drove home after Montessori in your cowboy green jeep, or snuggled against you in the porch of our Chilaw estate as you hummed lassanata pipunu wanamal gal peerana diya wel…
Thaththa – the healing concoction of mine, I need you by myside forever…