The Tale Of The Beer Bottle Stopper And The Markowich Cigarette

by Dr. Nihal Jayawickrama

Recent contributions to the Sunday Island by my school friends Godwin Perera (Remembered Yesterdays) and Gamini Seneviratne (Disce aut Discede) have brought back memories of the simple, uncomplicated, halcyon days of the nineteen fifties. Those idyllic schooldays were rudely interrupted, as far as I was concerned, by an event to which Gamini has referred in his article (November 8, 2020).

The return Royal-Trinity rugby encounter marks, I believe, the grand finale to the rugby (or rugger) season. In 1956, that match was scheduled to be played in Kandy. I had no interest whatsoever in rugby, and I cannot recall having spent even one hot afternoon watching a school rugby match in Colombo. However, all that was to change. One Friday afternoon in July saw me confined within a close cramped railway carriage bound for Kandy. All but two of my fellow passengers were the members of the Royal College Rugby Team. The two non-players and I were the Royal College Debating Team, travelling to Kandy for the annual Royal-Trinity Debate which was scheduled for that weekend in the Trinity College Hall. I cannot now recall who the other two members of our debating team on that occasion were, but our six college debaters that year were B.P.M. Peiris, L.A.D. Williams, Godwin Perera, Percy Wickremasekera, K. Shelton Alahakone and me.

The visiting Royalists were provided hospitality and accommodation in a section of the Trinity College hostel. On Saturday afternoon I watched Royal defeat Trinity on the Bogambara grounds and returned to the Trinity College Hall for the annual debate. Sarath Amunugama was the leader of the Trinity College Team. That night, in our quarters in the Trinity College hostel, the Royal rugby team celebrated their victory. They were joined by our Head Prefect N.Rasalingam and the other Prefects who had travelled independently to Kandy to watch the rugby match. We returned to Colombo by train on Sunday evening.

Monday was a normal quiet day at school, except for expressions of jubilation at having twice defeated Trinity that rugby season. On Tuesday afternoon everything dramatically changed. There were no teachers to take our regular classes. Rumour had it that an emergency staff meeting had been convened by the Principal, Mr Dudley K.G de Silva. There were no classes on Wednesday. The staff were attending an all-day staff meeting summoned by the Principal. There were wild rumours afloat on Thursday of a deadly missile from Kandy that had landed on the Principal’s desk. By evening, it all became known – at least to the twelve College Prefects, of whom I was one.

Mr Norman Walters, Principal of Trinity College, had written a letter to his Royal counterpart. In it he had congratulated Royal on its performance at the annual rugby match; confirmed that boys from his school would be visiting Colombo shortly for a combined schools rugby game; and expressed the hope that, as usual, Royal would accord them accommodation and hospitality during their stay in Colombo. Below his signature, he had added a PS: “I am returning something that your boys had, perhaps inadvertently, left behind (a Beer bottle stopper and a Markovich cigarette). Don’t worry. Our boys will bring their own supplies. In any event, they cannot afford these expensive brands.”

On Friday morning, the five Prefects who were officially in Kandy on that weekend – Fritz Crozier, Lionel Almeida, Suranjan de Silva and Loci Guneratna (members of the rugby team) and I were summoned to the Principal’s office. We were informed that, by our conduct, we had disgraced the school and the office of Prefect. We were removed from the office of Prefect and asked to hand back our Prefect’s badges to him immediately, which we did. At the general school assembly that followed a few minutes later, the Principal repeated what he had told us, and informed the assembly that the five of us had been removed forthwith from the office of Prefect. I believe the members of the Rugby Team were also denied “colours” despite their brilliant performance that year.

At the end of that year, when it was time for me to leave Royal, I wondered what the Principal would write in my school-leaving certificate. Mr Dudley K.G. de Silva was very magnanimous: “Jayawickrama has made a very substantial contribution to the general life of the College in many fields. He has a cheerful and kindly disposition and has always proved himself to be loyal and efficient. In all work entrusted to him he has displayed diligence, zeal, and conscientiousness. His conduct and character have been very good.” I was pleasantly surprised to note that he ended his comments thus: “He was appointed a Prefect”. That was characteristic of that warm-hearted gentleman with whom I later associated closely in the United Nations Association of Ceylon.

Reflecting on this episode there is little doubt that Mr. Norman Walters would not have expected his letter to be taken seriously. It was banter between two principals, one an English public school boy and the other a relatively new school head from a bureaucratic background.