Hamlet Fonseka
Two school boys from diverse backgrounds
My mind wanders back to the first time I met Hamlet. It seems like a lifetime ago, yet the memory is as fresh as the morning dew.
We met on a bus home and somehow found the courage to chat — two schoolboys, fifteen years old, wearing school uniforms, white shirts, and pants. Hamlet was an interesting name. It was the first time I met a person with the name of Shakespeare’s lead character. Hamlet was close enough to the original prince Hamlet, light-skinned, tall and with straight jet-black hair. His straight nose highlighted his friendly smile. Hamlet’s voice was husky, another quirky attribute.
It was an age when we did nothing but be happy and have fun with friends. And in no time, we became good friends.
It was exciting to visit Hamlet’s home for the first time. With no expectations, I was more on the curious spectrum, out to discover the broader world of friends.
As I approached the bamboo gate that led to Hamlet’s home, I heard the faint sound of laughter and radio. Hamlet came out, his eyes sparkling with warmth and kindness, his voice filled with genuine affection.
I stepped inside. Hamlet’s home. It was like no other. A makeshift home, somewhat disorganised, but lived dwelling. His home had hallmarks of growing organically. Wooden planks, bricks, zinc sheets, open water well and a basic toilet made up his home. Their tightly spaced home was a block from a once-was sweet potato plantation.
With my ‘anything goes’ mindset, this was novel. Hamlet’s home was simple but full of fun. The sound of Hamlet’s younger siblings, Hamilton, his brother, and two sisters, Floreen and Maureen, echoed through the house. Hamlet’s mother, Margaret Aunty, bustled about the kitchen, her laughter and chatter filling the air. I immersed myself in my new surroundings amongst their natural warmth. They were joyfully loud.
As the sun began to set, I was about to leave when Hamlet’s father, Hector uncle, returned from work. With a cigarette in hand, he looked weary and tired.
The memory of this magical place of Hamlet’s home would stay with me as I cycled home. I knew that I would always be welcomed back. Over a short period, my friendship with Hamlet strengthened, and I became a regular visitor.
The Fonsekas lived for the moment. Everything was spontaneous, highlighted by constant chatter, with lives out in the open.
I played with Hamlet and their neighbourhood children in the afternoons while a neighbour’s cow grazed their grassland.
As days went by, on some days. I stayed over, spending a night out when I managed to wrangle permission from my watchful mother. The three boys, Hamlet, Hamilton, and I slept in corners on ramshackle beds, sharing limited bed linen, pillows, and sheets. Then, the next day, after a simple breakfast of bread and dhal, I’d ride home on the bicycle again.
Hamlet’s home was an open home. Hamlet’s elder sister, Doreen, was engaged to Patrick, a regular visitor to their home. Noel, Hamlet’s cousin, stayed with them in their small home. It was lovely hotch-potch with multiple characters, dominated by youngsters.
At their annual church feast, Noel, Hamlet’s cousin’s home in Moratuwa, some twenty kilometres away, was the place to be for Fonsekas. It was bustling with energy coupled with the tantalising aroma of exotic food. The air was thick with the sizzling scent of pork and fried delicacies’ fragrance. No wonder I was one of the Fonsekas in that crowd in Moratuwa, on the southern coast of Sri Lanka.
The adults kept a watchful eye on us boys, ensuring we did not indulge in the booze. Even the women were throwing back shots, which was a new and somewhat shocking experience for me.
As the night wore on, Hamlet couldn’t resist the temptation of cigarettes, which he nicked from his unsuspecting uncle, Noel’s dad, a colourful character. Hamlet and I managed to slip away unnoticed, and we darted out for a quick smoke. It was a moment of rebellion, a small act of defiance amid the wild and unforgettable evening.
Back home, as I walked through the bustling streets of my hometown, my mind raced with thoughts of the Fonsekas. Their eldest daughter’s wedding ceremony was fast approaching, but they ran short of funds. The weight of their financial burden was etched on their faces, and I couldn’t bear to see my dear friend, Hamlet, and his family suffer in silence. I needed to help out Hamlet at his elder sister’s plight.
Then, Hamlet approached me with a request to borrow 500 rupees. Though I had no money to spare, I knew I had to help. I couldn’t turn my back on my friend’s family when they needed me the most.
With a heavy heart, I set out to find a solution to their problem. I racked my brain for ideas, and a plan finally began forming. I approached my wealthy friend, Nimal, whose father owned several businesses and a fleet of vehicles in my grandparent’s town.
The next day, Hamlet and I met Nimal, who I hoped could lend us the money we needed. After much persuasion, I explained the situation to Nimal, who agreed to lend 500 Rupees.
With a sense of relief, I handed the money over to Hamlet. The look of gratitude on his face made all my efforts worthwhile. Then, as I cycled home, I knew I had done the right thing. The Fonsekas could now celebrate their daughter’s wedding without any financial worries, and I had played a small part in making that possible.
The air was thick with excitement as Hamlet’s sister’s wedding festivities were in full swing. It was held in one of their friendly neighbour’s homes. Booze flowed freely, delicious food was devoured, and the melodic sounds of Nihal Nelson’s Baila songs filled the air. As an upcoming singer from Noel’s hometown, Nihal Nelson’s spectacular performance entertained the guests throughout the night. Everyone danced until midnight, boys and girls.
After a night of revelry, I stayed over in their bustling home. Sleeping on the ground in a corner, I was lulled to sleep by the faint sound of laughter and music that still drifted through the air.
A month later, Hamlet and I embarked on a trip that required multiple modes of transport, including buses and trains, and lasted a gruelling day. However, the promise of adventure and new experiences kept our spirits high.
Upon arriving at the venue, we were greeted by a vast expanse of rubber plants. The property’s sheer size was awe-inspiring, and we couldn’t wait to explore every inch of it. Instead, we spent our days playing games, bathing in the open air, and basking in nature’s glory.
As night fell, we were forced to rely on our own devices as there was no electricity. The absence of modern amenities didn’t dampen our spirits; we found solace in smoking and chatting under darkness. However, we were always mindful of our surroundings and avoided smoking when the houseboys and helpers were around.
It was a trip filled with adventure and new experiences to be etched in our memories forever.
Our friendship, which had once been a firm bond, was tested when Hamlet’s family borrowed my mother’s precious meat mince machine. It was an indispensable tool that my mother held dear, and she had loaned it to them, expecting they would handle it carefully. But unfortunately, while in their possession, the machine was damaged. They didn’t have the money to repair it, which infuriated my mother, and I could sense the tension in the air as soon as I returned home.
Our once-happy relationship had been thrown into disarray. The incident marked the beginning of the end of our friendship. As time passed, Hamlet and I grew apart, and I could not help but wonder if the meat mince machine fiasco had played a role in our separation. But, it was merely our destiny to pursue different paths in life, and our friendship had run its course.
I did not pay back Nimal; for one thing, I never could save money. Besides, Nimal had other ideas about Hamlet and me. That we figured out much later, and it is a story for another day to be told separately.
A few short years later, I left Sri Lanka for good. As I boarded the plane, I couldn’t help but feel a tinge of sadness at the thought of leaving my past behind. However, I knew I had to move forward and embrace the future with open arms. This was nearly a half-century ago.
Hamlet’s memory remains enshrined from my days as a schoolboy and a young lad.
Where is Hamlet today?
Tragically, in 2020, Hamlet met his untimely end in Sri Lanka, succumbing to a sickness caused by his smoking habit. The memory of his vibrant spirit, now extinguished, leaves a painful ache.
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