Things you should know about Vijitha and Lionel

They were from Elpitiya, southern Sri Lanka.

Vijitha and Lionel were brothers, Vijitha was the eldest. Their father, Henry was a sole trader in Colombo. Henry relocated his family from Elpitiya to Dalugama, my home village, to provide a better education for his children. They rented a house along Kandy Road. Vijitha and Lionel attended Ananda College, a premium school in Colombo. My younger brother, Rohitha, was also a student in this school, and the three travelled in one school bus. Vijitha was my friend, while Lionel was my brother’s friend.

Lionel, the outgoing and Vijitha, the reserved.

Lionel was a social bee. He made many friends in the neighbourhood. Everybody was his friend, including older boys. He did not hesitate to chat with anyone, despite his younger age. Vijitha was different, quiet, and reserved. Lionel did not change from his school uniform until late in the evening. Lionel was street-smart, always on the go, in the markets and on the road in his white shorts and shirt. Lionel loved helping his mother with the housework, which was plenty with a younger brother and a baby sister. It was Lionel who spoke to me first, before Vijitha.

Henry was a gentleman.

Henry Nanayakkara, Vijitha’s and Lionel’s father was a kind man nearing fifty. He was always dressed in white shirts and white sarongs. He must have had a lot of faith in me as a youngster. When one of my friends and a fellow apprentice wanted a room to rent, Henry sub-let his front room to my friend on my recommendation.

Vijitha and Lionel could play Carrom.

We played carrom at our mutual friend, Jayantha’s eatery in the evenings. Jayantha’s father owned the eatery opposite Vijitha’s and Lionel’s home. Half of the eatery was a store and part shop, and it had a small balcony. We played carrom on the balcony, sometimes till night, beating each other. Jayantha, stocky and bare-chested and wearing a striped sarong, ordered tea and snacks for us, for his friends, all on the house in between our carrom games. It was a very convenient arrangement with games and free food thrown in.

I was a smoker in a culture where smoking was considered manly and a symbol of coming of age. Cigarettes were sold in singles at 12 cents per cigarette. Most youths who could not afford cigarettes on their own shared cigarettes, pulling a few puffs each among their friends. The braveheart juvenile, Lionel, was the first to ask and take a puff from my cigarette.

Then, we played Cricket and Badminton.

In Anil’s, another neighbour’s garden, we played cricket on some afternoons. Using softballs and makeshift wooden bats. Wooden sticks from the garden were the wickets. Anil was serious about his cricket. He played for the local Catholic club’s team. Many boys from the immediate neighbourhood joined our games after school. The batting order was selected in a raffle. When one batted, everybody else fielded all over Anil’s garden. Vijitha always was the wicketkeeper. The main road was about one hundred meters away. We deterred everyone hitting too far onto the road by agreeing on an immediate dismissal as a game’s rule. Often, Anil’s father acted as the umpire bringing peace between the players, especially doubtful LBW decisions.

On other days, we played Badminton in front of Anil’s garden. Anil’s father would come to our rescue for contested borderline decisions. Vijitha was good at his Badminton, less so Lionel.

Vijitha, the fashionista

Unlike Lionel, who was happy in his school uniform the whole day, Vijitha loved his fashion. I had a colourful collection of bell-bottom pants and t-shirts. The seventies fashion every lad aspired to. Vijitha was in high school and could not afford good clothes yet. He admired my clothes, borrowing them regularly. I was happy to part with them for Vijitha. He wore them proudly, washed, and ironed them carefully before returning them.

Next to their home, a new supermarket was opened; we stayed in a long queue just to get in and look at the marvels of a modern supermarket, the very first in Sri Lanka in the mid-seventies. Next to the supermarket was a clothing store. I innovated and made a two-tone shirt, mixing brown and purple-coloured materials, bought from this store with Vijitha. It was one of Vijitha’s favourites and one he borrowed regularly.

I worked in the music bar at the village carnival fair, operating the sound music systems and playing song requests. Vijitha enjoyed roaming around the carnival grounds with his friends while I was busy helping to run the music bar. Vijitha visited me with his friends at the music bar, proudly wearing one of my shirts. I was happy for him for his happiness.

Family friendships were on display.

The two brothers, me, my brother Rohitha and then Vijitha and Lionel, were also brothers. I was welcome in their home, sometimes drinking tea and tasting their mother’s homemade southern snacks. When a dog bit me in the neighbourhood, Vijitha heard it and rushed in to see me. That night he stayed over, sleeping in my room. Vijitha looked up to me as someone to emulate.

Goodbye was unplanned.

My leaving Sri Lanka was sudden and within ten days. There were a lot of logistics, getting a passport, getting vaccinated and sorting air tickets before I left. The day before I left Sri Lanka for good, I was riding home on my scooter, passing my brother’s and Lionel’s school. Lionel was at the bus stand waiting for a bus. I stopped and gave a ride to Lionel on the back of my scooter. We chatted on the way in our youthful vigour.

I dropped Lionel home and told him I was leaving Sri Lanka the next day. Vijitha was not home, having visited his grandmother in their ancestral village. I did not get to say goodbye to Vijitha.

A few years after I left, Vijitha and Lionel relocated to their hometown in Elpitiya. I never returned to Sri Lanka except for short holidays. Back then, when there were no mobile phones or social media, being connected was impossible. My brother left for Canada after his graduation. He and I lost touch with Vijitha and Lionel.

Reconnection was due to much effort.

Communication was lost for forty-five years.

I often thought of nel, where these two brothers could be. I was desperate to find Vijitha and Lionel, my friends I thought I had lost forever. Sri Lanka is not a connected country even in 2021, relative to global connectivity standards. Whenever I visited Sri Lanka, I enquired from mutual friends and Jayantha’s sister about the two brothers. The house the Nanayakkara brothers lived in had been demolished. Nobody knew where they were. I went to the extreme of calling the post offices and village officials in Elpitiya, their ancestral hometown, hoping to get a lead to one of them. There was no luck. Despite repeated attempts, I lost heart and surrendered to the idea that I may never see the two brothers again.

Then a lucky break came from Facebook in my numerous searches for Lionels in Sri Lanka. In one profile for Lionel Nanayakkara, there was a photo of a grandfather. I had not seen Henry, their father, for 45 years, but I could recognise him. Lionel was some 60 years old in that photo, and although unrecognisable to me in his Facebook photo from my image of him as a teenager, I made the connection. I knew I hit the jackpot. I contacted Lionel and then from Lionel to Vijitha. I am yet to meet them face to face in Sri Lanka, but we are reconnected and speak regularly, trying to catchup up on everything that has passed ever since those innocent days before the world caught up on us.

Vijitha and Lionel are both delighted that we are reconnected. My brother, Rohitha, has also connected with Lionel. I look forward to meeting the two lads and brothers who made me their friend for life.

We have completed the cycle of friendship.

Every story has a twist.

Anil was killed by a gunshot by an intruder during a home invasion gone bad a few years after I left Sri Lanka.

Jayantha has died prematurely some years ago. I came to know this fact from her elder sister recently.

Henry has outlived them, lived to a ripe old age, and passed away in 2020, aged 90.

Vijitha and Lionel are waiting impatiently until I visit them in Sri Lanka, hopefully soon.

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