The Gypsy King

By Randima Attygalle

“Talent is something you bring with you from a previous birth and you should never take it for granted. Yet, with all the talent in the world, you cannot succeed unless you are blessed in life,” a blessed man indeed, Sunil Perera, the people’s musician, would reflect in an interview I had with him years ago.

Children of the early T.V and the cassette wave of Sri Lanka, we would be glued to the only two channels then available, whenever Sunil’s Kurumitto was played. When cousins got together on avurudu day, we would dance to his Lunu dehi and Oye ojaye. Among them was a cousin who would mimic kurumitta’s distinct voice and provide us great amusement. Sunil’s sudden demise reaching her now in Canada brought back a flood of fond memories, she sent me an emotionally-charged message. Another close friend who could dance all night to Sunil’s hits could not drag herself out of bed and would shed copious tears sending text messages that she couldn’t believe he was gone. Sunil Perera’s sudden death was like lightning striking in every Sri Lankan home. A relative remarked that ‘it was as if COVID robbed a family member from every Sri Lankan household.’

Ivor Sylvester Sunil Perera couldn’t have first opened his eyes on September 14, 1952 in a better place than Moratuwa, the baila paradise. With parents Anton and Doreen Perera and a brood of siblings, Sunil grew up in a ‘carnival-like atmosphere’ where every party would end up in a baila bajauwa. The era of Jetliners and Spitfires, music was part of Sunil’s everyday life. As Sunil would recall, he inherited his father’s love for Elvis Presley, Elton John and the Beatles. Sunil was also a fan of Rod Stewart, Tom Jones, Cliff Richards and George Michael.

After his primary schooling at St. Sebastian’s College Moratuwa and secondary schooling St. Peter’s College, Colombo, Sunil was weary of academic pursuits. This was when he formed his own band at 17 in 1969 which his father baptized as Gypsies. “If not for my father who stood by me, I wouldn’t have made such a long journey. I attribute everything in my life to my father,” Sunil would say. Despite Sunil not meeting his father’s expectations academically, Anton Perera not only enabled his young son’s band a brand name but also put up a studio for him. Originally Gypsies was a family affair with Sunil at the helm along with four of his brothers and two cousins. Anton Perera’s presence wherever the band played further boosted the morale of the young musicians.

Gypsies

played exclusively English numbers at first. When Clarence Wijewardena’s popular Sinhala numbers became instant hits Sunil realized that his band could not reach a wider audience with English music alone. Their debut Sinhala album which Sunil treasured as one of his most cherished memories was an instant success. The two numbers Linda langa sangamaya and Amma amma in the first album remain evergreen.

Since Gypsies saw light in the late 60s many bands were born, yet Sunil’s band stole all shows. Wherever Gypsies went, it was a full house with many left disappointed outside with no tickets left. “If I can make out what the secret behind Gypsies’ popularity is, I would start another band,” Sunil once remarked gleefully. The presentation of the band was his greatest strength as he used to say. The subtle humour it was laced with was one-of-a-kind. His acting ability was another bonus and this is what made Sunil beyond a larger than life singer- he was unarguably Sri Lanka’s most esteemed entertainer. From the musical show in the village playground to the most coveted corporate event in Colombo, Gypsies caught the imagination of an entire nation transcending social, religious and ethnic boundaries. The migrant Sri Lankan communities in Canada, US, Australia and many other parts of the world would long for Gypsies with nostalgia.

Had he not become a vocalist, he would have become an actor, Sunil would say. At a time when most bands were focusing on romantic themes, Sunil broke away from tradition and he remained a rebel until the end. “If one is to sing love songs, he should have a personality which is appealing to young girls and the correct voice too. I have neither,” Sunil used to admit candidly. Although he had an appealing voice, Sunil was never hesitant to say that he did not have what is called a ‘musically correct voice’. He would add earnestly that he envied singers with such musically correct voices.

A man who strongly believed in identifying personal strengths and nurturing them instead of blindly following trends, went onto discover his own genre of musical satires. While his Singore and I don’t know why would gently nudge the politicians and bureaucracy, None mage sudu none and Saima kat wela would urge many to refill and hit the dance floor once more. I would not hesitate to call Sunil a ‘musical sociologist’; a man who could infiltrate the Sri Lankan psyche unapologetically. Sunil was a musical magician who would capture everyday mundane events and give them a new meaning musically. Village damsels gossiping at the well (linda langa sangamaya) indiyappa-making (Piti kotapan none) Sri Lankan rice puller lunu-dehi and trusted Sri Lankan remedy koththamalli were celebrated by him. No Sri Lankan children’s concert with a ‘vedda dance’ is still complete without his Oye ojaye.

Sunil came from a privileged background. Yet this did not deter him from relating to the less fortunate. Despite being a fashionable man complete with his trademark of a hat, Sunil was a simple soul. He was either Sunil aiya or Sunil uncle. With him you got exactly what you saw with no pretense. This was characteristic of all his songs too. Sunil often mourned that Sri Lanka had the lost the innocence and goodness of the era he grew up in. He was fearless to criticize the political leadership of any colour and would say that as a nation we have failed today because ‘bad’ has emerged over ‘good’. He would also be very open about so called taboo subjects.

Sunil would recall going for both the morning and the evening mass of the church as a young boy just to watch girls! “When my father noticed this he permitted only morning mass for me and his word was final, I couldn’t argue,” Sunil would chuckle. A young man of the ‘mini skirt and mini gown’ era, Sunil would play the guitar for the church choir while admiring the girls. In the end it was pretty young Ganga who stole his heart. Together they had four children- Rochelle, Michelle, Sajith and Gayan. Sunil was a happy grandpa too.

Sunil navigated many eras of the country, yet admirably he evolved. While our generation would tap the desks to the beat of lunu dehi and replay Kurumitto on our now obsolete ‘cassette players’, our children- the so called ‘millenials’ would hum to the beat of his Koththamalli on their smart phones. This was the beauty of Sunil. He not only adapted to changing times winning the hearts of present day teenagers but also cheered the new generation of gifted musicians to reach greater heights.

While many a night we danced to Sunil’s songs remain a beautiful memory, I recollect Bob Marley’s words: ‘one good thing about music is when it hits you, you feel no pain.’ This was what Sunil’s music was all about. As Elton John said, ‘music has the power to take people out of themselves for a few hours.’ Sunil, your music will continue to make us forget ourselves…

Goodbye Gypsy King…..