Musings

Lilies and Roses and Sermon on the Mount

by Padma Edirisinghe

This is bragging time. Between the years 1986 and 2014 I have done nearly 150 book reviews of which 99% were published in the Lake House newspapers, mostly in the Sunday Observer. Stocktaking further, some reviews predominate. One of them is Lilies and Roses. To be frank, other than the intensive content, what stamped the book in my mind was the prompt acknowledgement of the review.

As to acknowledgements, once the author or publisher has pestered you to do the review, as in most cases, the matter ends with the publication of it. Very few bestow thanks even across the wire. A few even refuse recognition so as not to be under obligation. But, the very day after this review appeared, as I entered the House by the Lake, as I was wont to do after my retirement from the Education Ministry, an officer at the entrance pointed at a beautiful bouquet of lilies and roses lying on the counter and told me that it was for me.

"A Kiristiani poojakathuma, in black and white gait told me to give it to you when you come. He left about half an hour ago though I asked him to wait". I remembered a piece from the friar's book delivered in the most lucid style, "We are always so busy. God visits us often but we are never at home".

His book, to reiterate, was titled Lilies and Roses, the review of which I had done about a week ago but submitted for publication only about two days back. The author of it was Rev. Bro. Baptist Croos (of De La Salle College and church off picturesque Modera). No. I did not know him personally then, nor even ever set eyes on him, for my connections with Christian clergy was rare. Yet, our paths crossed via a lovely book.

Request

The mode of contact was in itself strange. It was in the Lake House library that a writer, a Hindu by faith, named Maniccavasagar requested me to do this review and he went on to say that Bro. Croos himself had a few days back conveyed this request. He had been particular that I do it. Before going on, I have to inform the reader that both these gentlemen are now no more on earth as far as I was made aware. Excuse me, if otherwise. The good, they say, are called to heaven early while we, not so good, just go on roosting on earth. Just gloat on that.

And, what about the Sermon on the Mount? It is splashed in his book with regard to Mahathma Gandhi who had visualized himself as a Christian while listening to the Sermon on the Mount. As I read the much edifying and inspiring book by him I too became capable of a similar response. Excuses again to pillars of both religions.

Manasa

However, I must not forget another prompt 'acknowledger' who ran a monthly psychological magazine named Manasa. He too I did not know, but contacts were made through a third party. After the review appeared he visited me at home, driving through the maze of the metropolis roads to invite me for his 80th birthday party. Venue - Habaraduwa off Galle. He never inquired as to how I was to cover all that long distance and just took it for granted that I was coming. He promised a dance all night on open stage and he was going to be the sole dancer. Do come, he cajoled me; you live only for a short time and then exit. I could not much follow that argument but remembered the lines he had written as editor,

"If you are fed up with Samsara, do something about it without going about with a long face and showing the whole world that things have gone awry.'

Actually, I was in a spot of trouble then over a family matter and wondered with what divine foresight he guessed.

So, I went off to Habaraduwa and landed there past twilight and sat on a comfy chair and watched the Manasa editor dance the whole night. I forgot to mention that he halted his dance steps once, to come down, and grinning to glory in all good humour asked whether I should be introduced as the greatest reviewer. Please, I pleaded, don't do it. I am nothing to them. But I discerned that he was everything to his associates in his hometown, himself just bristling with life and inviting others to join in the carnival of life, come any disaster or catastrophe. Intelligent man, that he was, he had observed the way I live and felt that a long trip to Habaraduwa flouting all conventions binding me may do me good. But, I saw him last in a funeral parlour of Borella, and pondered on the cruelty of Maraya for making still that vibrant bundle of life. I also could not help bringing back into my mind another golden snippet of advice he had given in his Manasa mag.

"When a dog comes pouncing on you and tries to bite you, you do not bite the dog in return nor try to pounce on it".