My friend Punchi

The recent passing, at age 88, of P.G. Punchihewa (Punchi to his friends and colleagues) took away from our midst an extraordinarily talented personality of considerable achievement. Punchi who had a distinguished career in the public service was among the last of the members of the once coveted Ceylon Civil Service (CCS) having belonged to the third but last batch before its abolition and replacement by the SLAS.

Post retirement as the Secretary to the Ministry of Coconut Development, he served three terms totaling 15 years, as the head of the Jakarta based Asian Coconut Community – later the Asia Pacific Coconut Community – before he ended his working life devoting his time to writing and scholarly pursuits. He also served as a consultant to UNDP and the Sri Lanka Government and had chaired the Coconut Development Authority and Coconut Cultivation Board here.

I first met him in the 1960s when he was Government Agent at Moneragala when my boss, Denzil Peiris, the legendary journalist who headed the Ceylon Observer where I began my career, and I motored to what was then and perhaps now the country’s least developed district, to see what was happening there. I still remember Punchi hosting us to a wild boar lunch at the Residency.

His wife, Anoma, tells me that even then he did not eat meat though he was not averse to serving wild game which abounded in those areas to his guests! Since then we have remained friends and I have been fortunate to run many of his articles in this newspaper. Whenever something appeared, he would unfailingly call to say thank you.

Punchi graduated from the University of Ceylon, Peradeniya, reading Sinhala, Pali and Archaeology taking an upper second class degree before passing into the CCS in 1960. After serving as a cadet in Galle, he was briefly an Assistant Controller in the General Treasury after which he served in the provinces as GA Moneragala, Puttalam and Kalutara at various times in his career.

He had a scholarship in Poland early in his public service tenure, recalling in one of his stories a hilarious instance of brewing tea in the thick of an icy winter. He later took a diploma in rural social development from the University of Reading before crowning his academic career with a Ph.D. from the Sri Jayawadenapura University with a thesis on “The Role of the Coconut Industry in Rural Development, A Comparative Study: Indonesia, The Philippines and Sri Lanka”, in 1994.

Punchi was a man of letters with over 30 publications of academic research, fiction (a couple of novels), memoirs (he had much to remember), translations and children’s books, the latest being his Mahi Pancha series illustrated by Sybil Wettasinghe. He was the winner of State Literary Awards on two occasions for a children’s book in 2002 and best translation in 2008. His Podi Hamaduruwo and Thawath Katha which won the 2002 award was outstanding.

He published an anthology of his memoirs, Those were the days, nearly all of which were published in this newspaper. Many of those stories deserve recounting. Let me choose one of an incident which occurred during the time he was GA, Kalutara. He had a phone call from the prime minister’s office saying that Mrs. Bandaranaike, who was leaving on an overseas tour, wished to take some mangosteens with her to gift her hosts. Kalutara was reputed for this fruit and Punchi was requested to get some for the PM.

He had his doubts about availability because the season was over and he had observed during his commute between the Kachcheri and the Residency that what was on offer by the roadside were dried and shriveled fruit. Nevertheless a search was made and the results were negative. Then one of his clerks told him that though Kalutara was famous for its mangosteens, Ratnapura was the cradle of the fruit. Punchi sent him to Ratnapura and got the same result. Then this officer asked him “shall we have one last shot and try Pettah?” Punchi was ready to try anything and sent him to Colombo in the GA’s vehicle.

Let me recall Punchi’s story in his own words as I remember. “When the car returned to the Residency, my officer seated by the driver was beaming with smiles. I knew the mission was accomplished. He showed me the luscious, purple fruit he had found and Anoma wrapped each of them with tissue paper before we sent them to Mrs. Bandaranaike in Colombo.”

I end this account of this extraordinary gentleman who had not a touch of meanness or pettiness in him with a couple of personal anecdotes. He hosted me once in Jakarta, showing me round and having me to dinner at his home. At a specialist Indonesian shop, I saw a shirt I liked very much but couldn’t find one of the right size. There was one that was slightly tight which Punchi made me buy saying “that will be an incentive for you to lose a bit of weight so that the shirt will fit!”

The other relates to what is, to my mind, one of the best contemporary memoirs written by a Sri Lankan in the last century, Vignettes of the Ceylon Civil Service by M. Chandrasoma. I had read and relished that volume and told Punchi of my disappointment at not being able to find a copy of the book which was out of print. Punchi photocopied the whole book he had in his library and personally delivered it to my home. He also gifted me a blown-up photograph of a painting of some small Filipino children enjoying kurumba by a dwarf coconut tree that was hanging in his home. I had admired the painting.

There are reams I could write about Punchi but let me conclude with one last regret. Browsing Facebook one day recently I came across one of his posts, reproducing something he had picked up somewhere about not doing what you should until it’s too late. The post which I can’t now find in effect said among other things “don’t send me flowers when I’m gone, for I won’t be able to see them, nor praise me when I can’t hear what is said.” I phoned him immediately and promised to come soon to see him but did not do so until it was too late.

Manik de Silva