“Dram ekak gamuda?”–Shall we have a dram?
[Note: My sister in law, Magdalene Li and her husband Fung Wai Kong were visiting Scotland during and before the recent referendum for Scottish independence. On my birthday yesterday, Magdalene posted a photo with a dram of scotch in a glass on my Facebook and wrote, “have a dram” This suddenly reminded me of my grandfather, and his frequent references to the word dram when he invited someone for a drink.]
Seebert Fonseka is my maternal grandfather. He died when he was not too old, in 1982 when he was 61 years old. He was from Hendala. He died in Hendala, at my parent’s home. I still remember the day he passed away. I was in the 9th grade and was preparing form my mid-year exam next day. Rest of the family were at my aunt’s home, a house built on the same piece of land my grand father gave to my mother and my aunt as sort of a dowry. Only my aunt had a small black and white TV during that time which was connected to a gigantic antenna fixed to a tall metal pole. On that day they were watching a popular Sinhala movie. For months we had to separate my grandfather and grandmother. My grandfather acting strange accusing my grandmother of various unfounded accusations. There were a few occasions when he tried to attack my grandmother. He was weak and sick those days. He walked slowly. But still tried to chase my grandmother with a stone in his hand. So we decided it is best my grandmother live with my aunt next door and my grandfather at my home. So they never crossed the unmarked border that separated our gardens, a sort of mini 38th parallel in our domain.
It was about 10pm. My father was doing to 2:00-11:00pm shift at the Ceylon Tobacco Company. He rode his new bicycle and would return home on it after his work. I was walking towards the kitchen and saw the bathroom door open but my grandfather inside. He did not close the door but was sitting on the toilet. Our eyes met and I never forget that gaze. He looked at me with penetrating eyes. And then I asked, “are you OK?” He did not say anything. The silver necklace with a cross was dangling. He was wearing his white singlet. I had to hold him and bring him to his bed, which was on the second room of our house. Then I could hear heavy breathing and each breath he took sounded like a huge cat purr. He stood on the bed and told me one thing: “asked your grandmother to come.” I was trying to figure out what was going on. This man was chasing my grandmother the other day uttering filthy words and have been cursing her for last 6 months and now suddenly wants her to come. I ran to the next door and told them, “Pappa (as we called him) is not well, and wants mumma (my grandmother) to come.” Without uttering another word, everyone rushed to the room he was staying and I never forget the first this he did when he saw my grandmother. He looked straight at her, put both his hands together into a praying position as of my grandmother is the statue of Mary in the church! Then he lied down, breathing heavily. Topi uncle and set off to look for Wilbert weda mahaththaya (Dr. Wilbert Amarakoon, who was in later 1980s abducted by para-military groups and made to disappear due to his political activities). Topi uncle and I walked pass the main cemetery in Nayakakanda and then for some reason we turned back and returned home to the wailing of my mother, aunt and grandmother! My grandfather has passed away. Soon my father arrived and rode his bicycle to bring Wilbert weda mahaththaya, who came on his bicycle and examined my grandfather and pronounced him dead.
So those were the last hours of my grandfather on this earth. You may now think what is the link between the title of this post and what I have written above. Well the link is my grandfather. When I wanted to write about his dram and drinking parties, I could not stop myself from writing about his last hours alive on this earth.
My grandfather loved drinking. He would say in Sinhala, “adiyak gahamuda?” or at times, “dram ekak gamuda?” meaning shall we have a dram. Well during those days they consumed the best Arrack they could get hold of. They mean my grandfather and my father and Topi uncle. During those drinks, they set aside all their differences. There were always political arguments but they reconciled everything over a dram or two or three or four. They went on until they saw the bottom of the bottle.
When my grandfather was strongly advised not to drink, he resorted to his creative methods. He instead decided to drink arishta–kind of Ayurvedic medicine to boost your health. Everyone, especially the ladies in the house were extremely happy. Not only he stopped drinking, he is now taking nourishing Ayurvedic medicine supplements. He went on like this happily, Only after many months one of his son in laws figured out what was going on. The arishta bottle was made of dark blue glass. What he was doing was to empty the medicine contents and fill the bottle with Arrack. Then he would consume Arrack from the arishta bottle. He would often used tea cups, which are not transparent to drink his “medicine”. But one day when he inadvertently used a transparent glass, someone noticed the interesting color of arishta, instead of dark brown, it was golden color and transparent! The trick was exposed.
I should stop this post here. But I should write another post about my grandfather and grandmother, their youth and their love story in a separate post, which is going to be an interesting one.