BY RANDIMA ATTYGALLE
He was fondly called Norman although born on Christmas day in 1926 as Bandusena Attygalle at Weda Walauwa in Madapatha as the third son of Mudliyar Don Philip Attygalle. Norman bappi to my father, mother and my uncles and aunts in Madapatha and Norman mahaththaya to Madapatha folk, he was Norman atha to malli and I. He wasn’t simply an ordinary ‘No-man’ – no way!
I unofficially made him an atha long before his own grandchildren came… My grandfather Dharmasena Attygalle’s younger brother, Norman atha was like my very own. Blessed to have had him right across our ancestral home, Norman atha’s cosy nest was my refuge, my ultimate childhood paradise. I would run across as I pleased to his safe arms. He would throw me up in the air and cuddle. I doubt if many children had the blessing of being loved and adored by a bevy of athas or grandfathers like I did in my childhood thanks to my father’s many uncles. Sadly, I have no memory of his Iron- bappi (derived from Yakadaya). But Norman, Joe, Sundi and baba- all re-baptised with acentric identities, in line with Madapatha psychosis, enriched my formative years in many ways.
My childhood sanctuary
Anura bappa carrying me flanked by Deepal bappa
A disciplinarian in many ways, thatha would bend his rules exceptionally on two occasions in my childhood- to allow me to spend my school vacation in Eheliyagoda at my maternal grandmother’s house and to run across to Norman atha as and when I pleased. His home was called ‘Anura’ named after his eldest son. With stone-laid walls, an inbuilt flower box and louvers characteristic of a Sri Lankan home built in the 50s, Norman atha’s home was my sanctuary. Together with his gracious wife whom we just called athamma, Norman atha raised three children –
My sanctuary with Norman atha and athamma
Anura, Deepal and Damayanthi. All in their early 20s when I was little, Anura bappa, Deepal bappa and Damayanthi mamma would indulge me, perhaps learning their first ‘parenting lessons’ from me! But parenting was the last thing they did with me- I would leave my child footprints on Damayanthi mamma’s bedroom walls, pluck pini jambu and naminan with them and insist on a swing. How on earth they had patience with a demanding child like me, I still cannot fathom…
Toffees first and then lunch
Norman atha’s Ford Anglia
Norman atha and athamma were both one-time teachers of English. Norman atha defied all conventional characteristics expected of a teacher at home! This extended to malli and I as well. We would jump with glee as we would spot him slowly coming up our path. Sometimes he would spoil us with Delta toffees just before lunch. We would first enjoy our sweets and then have our square meal. Amma did not utter a single word of protest as she firmly believed (to our good fortune) that grandfathers were there to indulge children!
Norman atha was my Santa not only with naminan, jambu and Delta toffees. He was my santa in many forms. There were many days when he would drive me for my Saturday Elocution class in Moratuwa in his red Ford Anglia. Then there were my moody days when I just wanted to hang around his home feasting on thembili-londa, plain tea and a scrumptious lunch prepared by athamma. My amusement with his house-retainer Murugan provided him constant entertainment. I would watch stocky Murugan occupying his short chair in the backyard. Norman atha would crack a joke at Murugan.
Santa – the baby sitter
A love unconditional
Norman atha was at his best Santa element on the day my little brother arrived…
Barely four then, I was left in the safe hands of Norman atha, athamma and Damayanthi mamma until everyone returned home with my mother and a gift of a little brother. Oblivious to the others’ excitement at the arrival of the new comer, I was lost in my enchanting paradise, which even today I can close my eyes and revisit… I hardly heard their conversations about the ‘new bundle of joy’ on the way. Instead, I relished having them all to myself with no evening call to beckon me back home.
Malli in his mischievous element. Me in Damayanthi mamma’s lap and Deepal
bappa enjoying the moment
The day turned into night and I was in raptures that I could spend the night. I remember Damayanthi mamma washing me and putting on my blue striped pajamas. We watched thatha’s green Lancer driving past and instead of an adrenaline rush, my heart fell. Soon, thaththa- now a proud father of a newborn son would be at Norman atha’s door step to take his first born to greet the little brother. I would first resist and then would break into a howl, my little three-plus heart breaking into pieces, being torn away from my Santa and his family. Thaththa would lose his cool and would bundle me up and whisk me away amidst protests while Santa and family watched helpless- Damayanthi mamma with teary eyes… That was my most epic stay with Norman atha.
Then years later I would join the family to visit Damayanthi mamma who was then resident at Teachers’ Training College in Kalutara. I would miss her at home in Madapatha. I remember Norman atha’s station wagon packed with all kinds of home-made delicacies to be taken to Damayanthi mamma. We would stop at the beach side and have a delicious lunch packed in kesel kole.
I cannot talk of my childhood without Norman atha. His warmth, his unconditional love had a spilling effect. Athamma, Anura bappa, Deepal bappa and Damayanthi mamma loved me with no conditions attached. Later on, I would fight for their undivided attention when malli arrived. He would storm into their kitchen and raid the fridge. When Norman atha would carry him and push him in the swing hanging from the red jambu tree, I would clutch my little fists and my eyes welling… In an era of simple delights with no fast food or frozen meals, he would mercilessly devour them all to my infuriation. How Norman atha and athamma could only laugh at his mischief I still cannot unravel.
A child once more
Norman atha, was unconventional just like my own atha- he would spur our mischief, scorn off at meal times and spoil us with toffees. The teacher that he was once, Norman atha would give malli a thump on the back and ask why he didn’t ask for ‘foreign aid’ at the school exams!
Years later when I relived Madapatha days at Upali Newspapers with its colourful characters and eccentricity, Clifford Hieler from the old school of journalism crossed my path. My father -figure at the Sunday Island that he later turned out to be, I took to the grand old gentleman immediately simply because he resembled my Norman atha. I relived the warmth of Norman atha through my beloved Sir Cliff as I lovingly called him. In my 30s, Sir Cliff spoilt me just like I was spoilt by Norman atha long years ago. He would treat me to Masala thosai from Ambal café and Kandos chocolates on Fridays. He brought out the child in me once more.
The fragrance lingers on
Young Bandusena Attygalle
Norman atha- my perennial Santa would have turned 97 on this Christmas day. At 84 when he left this mortal world, he still had the heart of a teenager. Although a grandfather to four grandsons and two granddaughters, he was full of mischief keeping the typical Madapatha-Attygalle spirit alive.
Having traversed many roads with people from all walks of life, my heart still stops at the magical home of love across my own… I still marvel at the depth of Norman atha and his entire family. If I were to define this unique man in one word, it would be -GODLY. Norman atha was no ordinary man.
Each time I see a bright red shoe flowers or sapattu mal which adorned his front garden I think of Norman atha- his vivacious character just like the bright red flower. Each time I inhale the scent of Etteriya which made a white carpet on his sand-strewn path, I’m transported to my glorious childhood in which my beloved Norman atha left a lasting fragrance….