During World War II, the Ahubudu family lived in Koggala, the birthplace of the celebrated author Martin Wickramasinghe. One day, an order was received from the Allied military authorities that the villagers were to quit the place within 48 hours as the Army was taking over the entire village for the construction of an airstrip and a military camp. The Koggala Oya was also considered ideal for amphibious aircraft. Arisen Ahubudu was at the time a very young man, and when the order to vacate came, he was down with a bad attack of typhoid. He was placed on a camp-cot and taken in this rather unusual ‘stretcher’ by bullock cart. Our motherland nearly lost an invaluable son in this exercise.

When the allied troops occupied Koggala and set about building the aerodrome, they blasted some of the huge rocks that dotted the village. Among these rocks was a massive one on which a crane (koka) had been carved centuries earlier. In his youthful wisdom Ahubudu had taken a picture of this rock from which Koggala derived its name (koka-gala), a few weeks earlier, before it was blasted to bits. Taken with a simple box camera, if this photograph still exists, it would surely be a museum piece.

The Koggala village also had a pre-historic Hirugal Devalaya (a place of sun-god worship) existing from the times of mighty King Ravana. It was Salman Wathugedara, Ahubudu’s maternal grandfather, who taught him the traditional first lesson at the auspicious time.

One day, the principal of his school brutally struck Ahubudu with a cane, over copying of a letter he was entrusted with. He then walked out of the school never to return.

After self-studying, Ahubudu qualified as a teacher and joined the Sariputta Vidyalaya, in Ahangama. On the very first day at school, he vowed never to cane a child. Thereafter, he entered the Nittambuwa Teachers’ Training College, where he became a brilliant pupil of guru Munidasa Kumaratunga, the proponent of the Hela School of thought (Hela Havula). Ahubudu, together with Jayantha Weerasekera, Raphael Tennekoon, Alaw Isi Sabihela, Jayamaha Wellala, Abiram Gamhewa and several other prominent scholars of that calibre, were ardent proponents of Hela-Sinhala or pure Sinhala.

His first appointment, as a trained teacher, was to the Deegala School, in the Matale District in 1942. From there he joined Mahinda College, Galle, where he spent the happiest days in his life as a teacher. His charm and charisma made him a popular, much loved and highly respected teacher. Always punctual, he had a unique style of teaching.

“Enu daruwa” (come hither child), “Asun ganna” (please take a seat), “Oba mona gollehida?” (In which class are you?), were some of his kind-hearted words. He came to school in immaculate white national dress. Some of the other teachers including the vice-principal also wore the same. He functioned as both the Sinhala language and art teacher. His pupils loved him so much that when they saw him coming to the class, there was pin-drop silence. He would stay after school, of his own volition, to coach free of charge, his more backward pupils.

On a corner of the block board in his class, he did a beautiful portrait of the Buddha, which soon spread to other classes, too, when he obliged to do so, on request.

Some of his pupils were given Hela names; Wickumsihe (Wickramasinghe), Gunawadu (Gunawardena), Hemsandu (Hemachandra), Wiruhiru (Weerasuriya), Dahamdas (Dharmadasa) and so on. My Portuguese surname, meaning spring in an arid land, was given a beautiful Hela twist. The year Sri Lanka won Independence from the British, in the surge of national awakening, Ahubudu composed the hit song, ‘Lanka Lanka Pembara Lanka’ sung so melodiously by Sunil Santha. This song first appeared in the small magazine ‘Hela Kumaruwa’ published by Ahubudu himself.

A few days later when he sent it to his good friend Sunil Santha, requesting him to sing it to a melody of his composition, Sunil discovered that a slight adjustment had to be made to the words if it was to be set to music. Sunil could have made the adjustment himself, for he too was a scholar and a lyricist, but he came all the way from Ja-Ela to Galle to get Ahubudu to do so. He felt that it would be impolite to do it himself or send the song back by post to Ahubudu, asking him to do what had to be done. When he came to Mahinda to meet Ahubudu, he introduced Sunil to us, his pupils. And I remember thinking that I had rarely seen such a dashingly handsome pair. They surely must have made many a female heart turn cart-wheels!

Ahubudu composed a special song for Galle’s Big Match, Richmond Vs Mahinda. Its chorus went:

‘Pandu gasala ada jaya ganne vidula Mihindu apey!

Ada dina tharagen mul thena ganne vidhuala Mihindu apey!

Mihindu apey! Mihindu apey! Viduhala Mihindu apey!

(Mahinda will be victorious at today’s match. Mahinda will lead all the way).

During school holidays, a small group of us, his pupils, would drop in at his modest home at Unawatuna, and we were introduced to his Hela Havula friends, the likes of Jayamaha Wellala, Kumarasihi Kitsiri, Liyanage Jinadas, Amarasiri Gunawadu and others, who were gathered there. It was an enchanting experience. For they would argue with scholarship on merits or demerits of this literary work or that, quoting chunks from the work to prove a point. Or, they would have a song session or a friendly contest of ‘Hitivana Kavi’ (impromptu verse).

Ahubudu was also an accomplished artist. On his sitting room wall was a framed painting by him, of the Buddha and below it was one of Jesus Christ. We were intrigued by it. So, one day we asked him what it was all about. He then said that Jesus was an incarnation of Maitri Buddha!

There is another story laced with humour. One day a pupil met him in Galle Town and asked him “Guruthumo beherak giyehida?” (Sir! Where have you been to?) Then Ahubudu replied, “Maa sanda salanta giyemi.” The pupil did not quite understand what he said. Back at home he thought long and hard. At last ,he remembered that it was the day of the General Election and that what Ahubudu had said was that he had gone to cast his vote.

Author Sri Charles de Silva was another member of the Hela Havula; he was on the Mahinda staff at the time. One day we heard a big argument from the direction of his class. And, during the interval we went there to find out what it was all about. We heard that one of the School Inspectors had asked Sri Charles’ class, the Sinhala word for ‘not admitting a thing’? One pupil had answered that it is ‘nopiligani’. The Inspector had then said that the correct word is ‘pilinogani’, which literally means ‘not taking clothes’.

The name of Ahubudu’s magazine, ‘Hela Kumaruwa’ was changed to ‘Ediya’ (Pride) and was published monthly instead of weekly. It was a popular magazine widely read by both children and adults. It contained very informative articles and a special feature was an entire page devoted to a glossary of widely used English terms translated into Sinhala by Ahubudu himself. This was 75 years ago and his Sinhala terms are widely used today. He was a pioneer in this field.

Also, it had a forum page where quarries from readers were answered. I remember a child asking the Sinhala term for ‘photograph’ which was given as ‘Seyaruwa’. A surveyor had asked for the correct Sinhala phrase for “the land was surveyed.” It was given as “idama miniksooye”. An adult had asked the correct Sinhala word for ‘loudspeaker’, which was given as ‘gohuwa’.

Ediya had an alliterative slogan:

Ediya vediye podiyange edi wadannatai.

(Ediya has come to increase the pride of little ones.)

One day a prankster in our class wrote on the blackboard:

Ediya vediye podiyange madi vedi vediyen kadannatai.

(Ediya

has come to make more and more money out of little ones).

Our guru enjoyed the joke on him more than anyone else. That was the charming man he was. Ediya was published at Ahubudu’s family press ‘Heli Paharuwa’ (Heli Press), managed by his brother Ahuthusu. Priced at 10 cents, even 10,000 copies were inadequate. Such was its demand.

One Chandra Dewalegama was a frequent contributor to Ediya. Once she wrote a poem ‘Ahimsaka Samanmalie’ (The innocuous Samanmalie). Editor Ahubudu, having published it in Ediya, was desirous of meeting this poetess. It turned out to be a Cupid’s adventure. Ahubudu’s homecoming was held at the historic Unawatuna of Ramayana fame. In this village is a mountain where rare medicinal herbs grow. It is said to be that part of the Himalayan mountain range that was wrenched off by the Monkey God, Hanuman, and brought to Sri Lanka during the Rama-Ravana war; the medical herbs, presumably, to be used in tending to the injured soldiers of the army. At the foot of this mountain is the popular sea-bathing resort of Unawatuna and the Welle Kovila.

The Unawatuna Village had an unusual signboard. It read ‘Pahina Pola’ (Post Office). Of interest, a pahinaya is a letter, while a pahina patha means a postcard. The invitation to his homecoming was couched entirely in flawless ‘Hela-basa’. It was short, simple, sweet and novel and may have been incomprehensible to some.

The two-liner read:

‘Arisen Ahubudu themey may masa

10 weni dina Sanda samaga siya deveni diviya arambai).

Edina pevethwena sadayehi hey obage hamuwa pathai.’

(On the 10th of this month Arisen Ahubudu will commence his second life with Sanda.

He cordially invites you to the reception to be held that day.)

Many newspapers published greetings befitting the occasion. I am one of the surviving few who attended his homecoming. On the 35th anniversary of his wedding, I wrote an article to The Island, which was published on August 30 and 31, 1988.

Mahinda’s loss was the gain of S. Thomas’ College. He then resided at No. 1, Fairline Road, close to the Dehiwala Railway Station. Some of his friends, well-wishers and pupils who were Colombo-bound by train, detrained at Dehiwala, to visit him.

The following two stories have an indirect relevance to Ahubudu. One day, long years ago, I was seated in the verandah of my house soon after lunch, and was almost dozing off when I heard the sound of footsteps. It was the celebrated author Martin Wickramasinghe who, like Ahubudu hailed from the village of Koggala. I warmly welcomed him. Soon our entire family gathered round him and was engaged in a lively conversation when my 80-year-old father asked him, quite agitated, why he had referred to a relative of his ‘Bandarawatta Mahattaya’, living in Koggala, in derogatory terms, in his book ‘Upandasita’ as ‘Bandarawatta vanahi ahankara modayeki’ (Bandarawatta is an arrogant blockhead). The author then maintained that it was a statement of fact. After he left, I was clueless as to why he had visited me. Neither have I ever met him nor written to him. The only possible connection I had with him was that I had donated a prize to the essay competition organised as part of his birthday celebrations held a few days before at the request of its organisers.

Another day, while travelling in the Negombo bound train to Ja-Ela, where I lived at the time, when the din of the train going over the Kelani Bridge jolted me, I recognised the passenger seated opposite me.

“Sir! Aren’t you the celebrated singer Sunil Santha?”

“I no longer sing. Now, I run a small store in my village,” he said.

Pointing to a bundle of dry fish under his seat, he added, “I went to Colombo to bring some required items for my store.” I then introduced myself as a pupil of guru Arisen Ahubudu and recalled his visit to Mahinda College, Galle, to meet Ahubudu. He was overjoyed to hear about it.

As I entrained at Ja-Ela he extended to me an invitation to visit him the following Sunday.

So, the following Sunday I visited him. Sunil warmly welcomed me. He recalled his days in Galle, where he had taught, before going to Shantiniketan of India, adding that he created the melody for the Sinhala College anthem of St. Aloysius College, Galle, composed by his illustrious maternal uncle, Rev. Father Moses Perera. Sunil told me that for eight beautiful years, after returning to Ceylon, he had been a songster and that for the sake of a principle, he set aside music. He said that some staffers at Radio Ceylon were in the habit of keeping their parcels of food on the grand piano inviting insects to destroy it and though he brought it to the notice of the authorities, it had fallen on deaf ears. With great reluctance, I took his leave. Back at home I wrote to Ahubudu about it.

On February 28, 1955, C. Vanniasingham, MP for Kopay, said in Parliament, that the government should stop Tamil names being obliterated for Sinhala names and cited the case of Kantale becoming Gantalawa. According to Ahubudu it is the Sinhala village ‘Govi Paya’ which became his electorate Kopay. Deeply shaken by it, Ahubudu wrote the book ‘Lanka Gam Nam Vahara’, a monograph on place names of Sri Lanka, which provided a dependable source of information. Writing to me on February 11, 1984, he lamented that unfortunately for our Motherland, he had still not been able to get it published. It ultimately saw the light of day only in 1987.

I kept in touch with him with infrequent correspondence. Usually his letters begin: Asiri (With blessings to you!)

Labanda Wiruhiruweni (Dear Weerasuriya) (Assumed name)

And ends thus: Sema Setha Pathami (Wishing you all the best)

Meyata

(I remain)

Labanda

(Yours affectionately)

Signed ‘Arisen Ahubudu’. His signature was beautiful, impressive and artistic.

My last letter to him was regarding the query of a lady living about 16 miles from Galle, who wanted to know how her village name ‘Nakiyadeniya’ originated. Ahubudu replied that it meant ‘Nakiyagath deniya’. (A ‘deniya’ is a land area with semi-hard soil and a high-water table, used for bathing and other similar purposes.) I met him last when he visited me in Galle. Guru Arisen Ahbudu will eternally live in our hearts!