MY FRIEND KILLI

by Sirisena Cooray

A month had passed since the untimely demise of  ‘Killi’ Rajamahendran. In that time many appreciations had been written about him. Many were about Killi the media mogul, Killi the business magnate, Killi the cricket lover, Killi the political operator. He was all of that. But it was not of any of that I want to write. I want to write about Killi, the friend. My friend.

I met him in 1963. I was working as the manager of the Majestic Cinema at that time. His older brother used to be a regular film-goer. We got to know each other and he introduced me to his family, including Killi.

Soon both brothers became my friends. But it was with Killi I developed this special bond. When I look back, that seems surprising, for we had very different personalities and many differences of opinions. Yet we became friends and remained friends until the day he died.

Killi was someone I could trust totally. Our friendship lasted for almost 60 years and throughout this time, he never betrayed my trust, never let me down; and with him I could share many things. We could share old stories, secrets, things which were important nationally and things which were important only to the two of us. In his company I was able to relax, laugh and have fun.

Fifty seven years is more than two-thirds of a normal lifespan. Our long friendship shows that people can disagree on important issues but still remain friends.

In the last ten 10 to20 years our meetings followed a ritual. We would set up a date and a time to meet. When I arrived, everyone would know I was coming. He would be at the door to meet me. He’d shout, sometimes in Sinhala, sometimes in English, “Today is the day I get black-guarded.” Everyone around would laugh.

If our meeting was mid-morning, a staff member would bring a plate of sandwiches. I’m not a big eater so I normally ate only one or two. He’d keep on pressing me to eat more, so one day I said “Pack it up, man, and I’ll take it home.” I was half-joking. But he immediately got a staff member to pack up the remaining sandwiches. Since that day, every time we met mid-morning, there’d be a plate of sandwiches for me to eat and a packet of sandwiches for me to take home. It became another ritual.

A packet of sandwiches is a small thing and a big thing at the same time. It shows how he paid attention to even little details, how he never forgot even the smallest thing to do for a friend. For me it was a symbol of Killi, of the kind of friend he was.

Killi was a stubborn character who listened to everyone and did what he felt was correct. He was a generous man who helped many people. For a friend, there was nothing he wouldn’t do.

In the 1980’s I was the Mayor of Colombo and at Prime Minister Premadasa’s request, the CMC began building the Khettarama Stadium (now R Premadasa Stadium) for cricket. Though it was an international stadium, we did not use either foreign experts or money. The plans were made locally. The money came from the CMC, from the Mayor’s Fund. Mr. Premadasa funded the flashlights. There was one other person who helped with the project. That was Killi.

We needed a new scoreboard to suit an international stadium. It was going to be very costly and the Mayor’s Fund was running out of funds. One day, I told Killi about this. He and his brother immediately offered to help. The scoreboard that is there still was their contribution. They had one condition though – that their names should not be mentioned anywhere. They both insisted on that. He and his brother also provided funds for the Khettarama chaitya. That too was on the condition of anonymity.

There are people who’d give 100 rupees expecting 1,000 rupees worth of publicity. Not Killi. When he helped someone, only he and the recipient knew the story.

Both Killi and his brother were close to Mr. Premadasa long before he became president. Their relationship with Mr. Premadasa did not begin through me. But it did help strengthen my own friendship with Killi. If he had been against Mr. Premadasa, I don’t think we could have remained such close friends for such a long time.

We had many political disagreements on other issues. But those never affected our friendship. We could argue, debate, agree to disagree and remain friends. But if he had been opposed to Mr. Premadasa, it would have affected our friendship because Mr. Premadasa occupied such a central part of my life. Fortunately that was not the case.

In the mid-1990’s, a friend of mine sent me this verse about Friendship. I made a copy of it, framed it and gave it to Killi for his birthday. It was there on his table even on the last time we met – a few days before he was diagnosed with Covid-19. This is what it said:

Marriages, they say, are made in heaven,

But friends, like pearls, are picked and chosen.

Blessed are those who possesses a friend,

Who is steadfast and sincere till the end.

Friends are those who extend a hand,

When you are sinking into the deep quicksand.

Friends are like candles burning bright,

Taking care of you with their quenching light.

Friends are those who lend an ear,

To hear your anguish and bring you cheer.

Friends are those who lend their shoulder,

In times of distress to make you bolder.

Showers and flowers last a few hours,

But friendship has such power to last forever.

That was what Killi was to me for 57 years. I miss him.