Role Models and Mentors — Pandi
I had three role models in my early years.
1st was my beloved father; I could write a book about him instead of a few short stories. Everything I do in life, I attribute to him. He let me enjoy my youth and gave me immense self-confidence. But this is not to downplay my mother's role in making me who I am.
2nd was a Christian Brother, Bro. Ignatius, my carer, was in the Christian brothers’ l when I was twelve. He was the best teacher one could ever have for a twelve-year-old. I have written about him here.
3rd role model was Pandi.
Kingsley Panditharakalege, aka Pandi, was one of my supervisors when I started working in OTS at eighteen. A few years later, I came to know him well. This is the story of Pandi, an outstanding role model and a great father to his children.
My experience at OTS in Sri Lanka was rocky. Most of the supervisors were not people leaders, having come up the rank and had trouble understanding a youngster like me who dared to do things differently. One caveat here t claim to be the perfect intern at OTS. Among the supervisors, Pandi stood out for his calm and unbiased approach toward me.
A couple of years later, I left to work in Dubai. I lived in Sharjah, the adjoining city and commuted to Dubai, where I worked. Pandi arrived in Sharjah the following year. He and many of his ex-colleagues worked in the telecommunication industry in Sharjah. They had left their families behind in Sri Lanka and came to earn the coveted petrodollars, hoping to uplift their families with the money they earned.
I was the youngest, at twenty-one, in that crowd of ex-OTS colleagues. I related to Pandi quickly as someone I counted on. He invited me regularly for a meal at his flat. When he went shopping for his family, he’d take me to the shops asking me to choose clothes for his boys back in Sri Lanka. His values were strong; he was a great family man. He always talked about his family and his beloved kids, three boys and the youngest, a girl. He treated me like one of his sons. I looked up to his wisdom.
During that year, I had a terrible dose of fever. The fever would not go away. Pandi took me to his home to nurse me back to good health again. He set up a bed in his room and asked me to stay with him until I got better. He made soups and meals for me while I was getting better. He made sure that I took my medication on time. He’d regularly call to check on me when he was at work. He took me back to my apartment only after I had recovered.
Pandi was a good cook. He could make tasty, simple dishes with little effort. He had a knack for making great-tasting and healthy meals. I’d be in his apartment in the evenings, enjoying his hospitality and cooking. One of the great advice he gave me was to eat together whenever I had kids on my own and provide them with a minimum of one hot meal a day.
I was not the innocent youngster you might think. I had occasional flings with girlfriends who often stayed the night. Pandi tactfully advised me to focus on my life and not to fall into relationships that could be detrimental to my future goals. It was good advice to heed.
I required a minor procedure at the hospital, and again it was Pandi to whom I turned to help. He accompanied me to the hospital and brought me back home. While I was recovering, Pandi looked after me, visiting me regularly.
A year later, Pandi’s eldest son, Rohan, visited Sharjah. I was Rohan’s best friend, hanging out together and roaming the streets. On weekends Pandi, his son and I toured the country. Rohan and I have become close friends ever since.
I was a smoker in my early twenties. He skillfully advised me to give up smoking. It was good advice, and after many painful attempts and with Pandi’s encouragement, I gave up that dreadful habit.
Pandi did not stay in Sharjah long. In contrast, his ex-OTS colleagues had left their wives and kids back in Sri Lanka and were focused on making as much money as possible. They hoped to give their families back home a good life. Pandi decided otherwise and quit his job.
He told me that his kids were growing up, and he did not want to miss the experience. His kids needed their father to navigate the teenage years to adulthood. He gave up a lucrative job with a reasonable salary and chose his family instead. That example stayed with me for the rest of my life. Pandi knew what was important in life. He chose family over wealth.
Pandi returned to Sri Lanka to his family. He and his wife, Manel, raised their kids well. They were a happy couple and model parents. He and his wife became good friends with my parents and frequently visited them.
A few years later, I, too, gave up a far more lucrative job in Dubai and left with my family for Australia to ensure a better and more stable future for them. Pandi’s example to me in my early twenties was one I emulated to make that difficult but strategic choice for my kids.
Many years later, two of Pandi’s kids had settled in Melbourne. I met Pandi when he was in Melbourne visiting them. He was frail, having limited eyesight and hearing problems. Nevertheless, he enjoyed seeing me again.
Pandi met with a road accident a few years later in Sri Lanka. He went into a coma and was bedridden for a long time. I was devastated after hearing the news. I could not understand why such a good and moral person like Pandi endured such a fate. Life was not fair.
Manel, Pandi’s wife, dutifully took care of him for nearly a year. It was a challenging period for Pandi’s wife and kids.
I wrote a lovely letter to Pandi while he was in a coma thanking him for everything he did for me. Manel, Pandi’s wife, said a smile came to him while she read my letter.
Pandi passed away peacefully in his wife's loving and caring company after being in a coma for about a year.
Pandi was a great man, a loving husband and father, and his influences remain with me.
I am glad I evoked a smile from him while he was in a coma. That was the last thing I could do for him.
Where are the characters of this story today?
Manel, Pandi’s wife, lives in Sri Lanka. Rohan, Pandi’s eldest son and my friend from Sharjah, also lives in Sri Lanka. Rohan has inherited his father’s imaginative culinary skills. Pandi’s other two sons live in Melbourne, and the youngest and only daughter lives in the USA. I keep in touch with Manel and Pandi’s three boys and meet them whenever I am in Melbourne or Sri Lanka.
It takes me a while to concentrate on my conversation with Pandi’s boys when I talk with them now. His three boys have inherited Pandi’s voice. So, naturally, my mind goes back to my days with him in Sharjah when I hear Pandi’s voice again through his sons. It is a pleasure, nostalgic and sad to listen to it again.
On a side note, I recently learned that my uncle, Christie, had studied with Pandi at St Joseph’s College in Colombo in the 1940s. They were classmates. Christie told me that Pandi was a caring class monitor as a schoolboy.
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