248 Mudiyansegewatta

Legacy of Stone and Spirit: The Jayasinghe and Jayawardene Homestead

In the serene environs of Mudiyansegewatta, a sleepy home neighbourhood, an abode stands, a testament to familial ingenuity and a father’s silent counsel. From the road, one beholds a formidable wall and gates of ebony, crowned with arches and the timbered eaves of a grand portico. Unbeknownst to many, this architectural sleight of hand sprang not from his son’s mind but was his father’s brainchild.

Wealth was the lad’s, yet the vision was his father’s. He sowed the idea and, upon his boy’s coming of age, ensured the land was the lad’s by law. And so, with a little forethought, his petrodollars were funnelled into creating a modern home. The financial orchestration was the father’s doing, while Uncle Dixon, father to the lad’s buddy, Asoka, lent his talents in design and architecture without charge.

Their domicile rose on the lane, a structure graced with an elegance that caught the eye of every passerby. Glass panes adorned its sides, and majestic doors nestled beneath the shelter of a spacious portico. The lofty twelve-foot ceilings boasted wooden adornments that spoke of opulence — floors, a tapestry of terrazzo, complemented walls that shone with expansive glass. The kitchen, a marvel of modernity, and the washrooms, resplendent with Italian ceramics, completed the vision. Eight ceiling fans, imported from Japan adorned the high ceilings.

On the humble thoroughfare of Mudiyansegewatta, the lad’s mother, an emblem of resilience, kept vigil over the building supplies. The bricks and cement transcended their mundane purpose, symbolising her steadfast resolve. Raymond revered as the village's most skilled supervisor, helmed the construction with an unwavering dedication to quality.

The lad’s kid brother, still in his teens, donned the role of engineering savant. With surprising acumen, he charted the course of power and water, integrating fans and complex electrical systems into the hidden veins of our home.

The lad embraced the role of procurer amidst the vibrant chaos of Dubai’s markets. He sent forth kitchen fixtures, stoves, and sanitary ware from there. Bathrubs, wash basins, ceramic tiles, embarked on their aerial voyage, heedless of cost; the value of the currency was a notion yet to dawn on the young lad.

In the dance of design, the lad took the lead, orchestrating the placement of furniture, the selection of pictures, the drape of curtains, and the harmony of interior décor. Their correspondence flew between Dubai and Sri Lanka, carrying sketches and budgets as tangible signs of the collaboration. It was a family symphony, each playing a part, discovering that the rhythm of cooperation pulsed through their veins.

In their blood ran the essence of creators, economists, dreamers, and planners, each weaving their strand into the fabric of our dwelling.

Thus, a twenty-something built a home for his parents. The thing is, that lad did not know what he was doing.

Thus, from the fervour of dreams and the sweat of labour, a structure without equality on the street, a sanctuary honouring their kin’s shared dreams and efforts. It was not just a gathering of bricks and mortar but a testament to the harmonious spirit of their ancestry, the dwelling of the Jayasinghe and Jayawardene lineage, entrusted to the lad from four or five generations before him, the wandering maverick of the globe.

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