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by V.Vitharana

It was with great interest that I read the article entitled 'Is there 'life' after death' by Dr. Gamini Karunaratne, in your esteemed journal of September 22. The reference to Sir D.B. Jayatilaka, not particularly as a politician and a scholar, but as one who, after his demise, resides in the astral plane took my attention over and above the rest of its contents.

It made me hark back to an occurrence of a little over fifty years ago when I, as a raw youth who had just sat for my degree examination, was teaching at my old school in Galle.

A few senior students of the college hostel who were my play-mates of four years ago, happened to be engaged occasionally in a certain leisurely activity somewhat popular at the times, viz., 'Tumbler-talking', although we did not accept seriously what was 'talked' to us by the 'Mr. Spirit' that chose to come in. I too joined them to obtain some light recreation.

Strange feature

We made the necessary preparations on a carom board, turned a tumbler up-side-down on it, and if and when a spirit came in, we thanked him and had him identified. A strange feature that we had noted for some time was that the spirit, if known to us during his life-time, behaved in such a way that was much in consonance with his erstwhile character.

For instance, a friend who had just got drowned portrayed his mischievousness and irresponsibility even as a spirit, and we did not accept his answers with any seriousness. Sardiel was too fast for us - he moved the tumbler with such speed that we could not manage to maintain our finger contact with it - far from jotting down the letters of the alphabet to which he pointed. And what I remember poignantly is that the Venerable Totagamuve Sri Rahula did not like Premakumara Epitawala producing the ballet based on his "Selalihini Sandesa". One night - that of the day when the tern-end vacation commenced, we continued with various spirits deep into the early hours of the following day.

At about 2.30 a.m., the one who entered the tumbler gave his name as Jayatilaka who took half a minute to go over the ten letters that comprised his name. I thanked him and said that there were many with his name that we knew, and requested him to identify himself further. 'D.B.', he replied in the same laboured manner.

I almost shot up from my seat with my thoughts in disarray, and began to think as best as I could what I should do. Was he the celebrated Sir D.B.J.? 'Yes' he answered, commencing the first movement likely after assuring his own self, about his correctness! I thanked him profusely, and told him how honoured we all were to have him with us. I do not remember the questions that we asked him, but the penultimate and the ultimate ones I do remember, and shall never forget them along with the answers that he supplied to them.

The first of these was about horse-racing, and with the annual event due to start off at Boossa (just a few miles away from where we were) on the following day, my friends wished to know the names of the winning horses, although none amongst us were punters.

The tumbler refused to move, and I was on pins once again imagining that the celebrated visitor would be highly irritated at the question that we urchins dared to ask him. However, it did begin to do so and started to describe various circles all over the carom board without ever touching a single letter, and stopped in the centre. When I thought that it was time to make a very humble apology, it recommenced to repeat the former exercise, this time touching a few letters which ultimately read, 'Not my subject'.

I apologised on behalf of everyone for our utter childishness and juvenile arrogance using all the words and expressions that I found in my contemporary vocabulary as suitable for such an occasion.

Before thanking him and wishing him good-bye I asked him a personal question which generally pricks the conscience of many that are on the verge of commencing their life's career, excusing myself before-hand: 'What would I be ultimately in life?'

Unbelievable

The tumbler moved on to the centre and displayed an obstinacy in being still. Was the illustrious visitor more than irritated at the type of questions that I was asking? Was he thinking of the means by which I should then be shown my proper place? Or was he projecting his thoughts into the far distant future in a serious manner, probing for the answer to be supplied to me-my question being sincere, after all? Ultimately came the extremely slow reply U - N - I - V - E - R - S - I - T - Y.

I just could not accept it, first because I had sat for a general degree and such graduates were taboo in university staff, and secondly, "Ceylon' then had only one university, and hardly did even an honours graduate aspire being on that.

But as things actually came to pass, I have now completed over forty years in that capacity, and the more I think of it, the more is the homage that I pay to the memory of Sir Baron, who amongst several other outstanding personality traits, was a man of wisdom and culture.

May he continue to remain in the peace and comfort of the astral plane for long epochs to come.

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