Nostalgic memories of Ananda College (circa 1914-1926)
By C.E.P. Kumarasinghe
Ananda was just 28 years of age when I had the good fortune of throwing myself, heart and soul, into her service as a member of the tutorial staff under Principal Fritz Kunz in May 1914 – the historic year of the outbreak of World War I. Mr. Kunz had just succeeded M.U. Moore who had, during a period of just three years, not only continued the yeoman service of his predecessor, but had also produced appreciable examination results quite consistent with her early formative years.
From her babyhood and toddler years, Ananda appears to have had a line of persevering and devoted heads whose primary concern had been to promote her growth into robust and radiant maidenhood. Towards the achievement of this objective, one of these noble pioneering lines stands out for having made an invaluable contribution to her guardianship for over a decade with ceaseless dedication and boundless zeal. Unfortunately, he had been constrained to relinquish this arduous role to take over responsibilities in his country’s service.
This was a transition period – an era that needed accomplished personalities of his calibre for the struggle that arose to liberate this land from the yoke of a foreign domination. Towards this goal, he laboured like a true patriot and strode the political scene like a Colossus till this tiny tot of a land that had possessed and enjoyed a glorious civilisation saw the horizon of the abode of freedom. He was none other than D.B. Jayatilaka, later knighted as Sir Baron, whose memory will, no doubt, be perpetuated not only in the records of our dear Ananda, but also in the annals of this land as one of Mother Lanka’s most redoubtable and patriotic sons.
Ananda was exceedingly fortunate to have had at the helm of affairs a person of erudition and distinction at what may be regarded as a crucial period of her growth. Principal Buultjens, his predecessor, though a scion of an illustrious Dutch Burgher family of South Ceylon of that time, had, true to the spirit of his faith, accepted this post and given the young institution the necessary shape and character to put her in line with other collegiate schools of the day. Thus, he had paved the way for his erudite successor to produce Ananda’s first university scholar in G.K.W. Perera in 1904.
Although I might appear to be digressing somewhat from my set theme when traversing the beaten track of Ananda’s youthful years immediately preceding my entry into her service, I feel I am within my rights in giving a cursory review to enable the reader to find it easy to understand how the institution was circumstanced when Kunz took over the principalship in January 1914.
At the commencement of the second term of the school year, i.e. May 1914, I saw the Principal with my letter of appointment for instructions as regards my duties. After examining my examination certificates and other relevant documents, he assigned me to the middle school. I had only a provisional certificate as a qualification, which had to be endorsed annually by the various inspectors at the annual inspection of the school. Increments to salaries were determined by the management in accordance with these endorsements.
Those were the days of the State grant-in-aid to teaching institutions, which largely depended on the Annual Inspection Report. To say the least, it was a menacing, rather harrowing experience for a teacher to go through the ordeal of teaching a class in the presence of a lynx-eyed inspector.
It so happened on a certain occasion that C.A. Wicks – MA of an English university – as inspector of maths sat in a corner of the classroom to watch me giving a geometry lesson on polygons. In order to engage me in conversation about the maths syllabus for the class, he drew a hexagon on the board and joined angular points to form triangles, each standing on a side. A daredevil sort of a boy surreptitiously manoeuvred to draw another line so as to make the figure have an additional triangle.
The conversation over, he got near the blackboard and put the question to the boy: “How many triangles do you observe in the figure?”
Came the reply: “Seven.”
Repeating the question, he asked another. “Seven, Sir.” Posing it the third time, he got a chorus of voices “Seven, Sir.”
“No,” he bawled out. “Oh, no, Sir!” they bellowed reciprocally. After the inspector had gone, there followed not a joyous symphony but a thunderous babel over the comic scene.
On another inspection, a classics inspector, L.G. Gratiaen, a distinguished Old Royalist, walked into my Latin class. Being an inexperienced and untrained stripling of a teacher yet in his teens, I had been observed to be thundering in stentorian tones in the course of the lesson. Before he walked out, he made a passing remark savouring of the reproachful: “Vox magister detrimentum discipuli” – indeed a pithy maxim. What he hinted at was that the high-pitched tone of a teacher is a hindrance to the understanding of the pupil. I gave my thanks for his advice. Those old-time inspectors seeming inconsistent with the changing educational setup have since ceased.
The original school building was T-shaped with a row of separated classrooms in each of the horizontal and vertical sections, with open sidewalks running on either side of them. The Principal’s room stood at the right end of the horizontal wing. There was no staff room as such. One really felt one was living in an emergency atmosphere.
The front portion of this two-acre block of land was ordinary open land whilst at the back of the building, there was a square-shaped patch of ground that had been used for a playground. It looked like a virtual juvenile cricket pitch but it had, strangely, nurtured the school’s early cricketers amongst whom was her first All-Ceylon player, D.L. Gunasekera, later a well-known lawyer practising in the Hulftsdorp Courts.
On the Mackwoods side of the vertical wing of the main building, Principal Kunz managed to build the spacious Olcott Hall, the first major addition to the College, after nearly 30 years. Shortly afterwards, the Dias Memorial Laboratory was put up on the highway end of the hall through the munificence of the philanthropic Jeremias Dias family of Panadura.
It was after the erection of these two buildings that the College was registered for Government Grant as an elementary school with a secondary department running up to the Cambridge Senior, the examination that determined the government scholarship on its results for the year.
During this short spell of nearly four years, Kunz laboured with no less abiding interest, selfless spirit, and unstinted zeal than any of his predecessors had. My recollection is that he started the teaching of sciences with the help of the brother-in-law. One was Gould who set up a makeshift laboratory in a classroom. Another of Kunz’s firsts was the establishment of a hostel for outstation students who were beginning to storm the school as the College was now functioning as satisfactorily as any of the well-established and old-standing institutions with high-scale examination results and appreciable inter-school sports performances.
The College boarders were housed in a large upstairs building called “Starlight” in Jail Road, a few yards away from the present St. Anthony’s Church. This hostel was shortly afterwards shifted to a very spacious single-floor building called “Kityakara”, also bordering the road but on the opposite side. Incidentally, this was an ancestral sprawling mansion of the famous cricketing family of the Goonesekeras.
I am wondering even at this date, over 70 years later, if my appointment as the Sports Master-in-Charge of the team and of other games activities, quite apart from my thinking it to be a fantastic role for me, was another of Kunz’s firsts. After the performances of the school’s early players, especially of her first All-Ceylon cricketer, D.L. Gunasekera, Ananda began to play inter-collegiate matches. If they are still among us, T.K. Burah, H.R. Perera, two distinguished players, and others of the day are sure to bear testimony to my information.
Thus, Kunz’s contribution to the progress of Ananda was not only significant and memorable, but laborious and laudable as well. The short spell of his stewardship of just four years was a very calamitous and troubled period of the century, as in his first year of principalship, the titanic World War I broke out. The next year saw the Sinhalese-Muslim riots, the proclamation of Martial Law, and its horrible aftermath. The leaders of the country were incarcerated and their lives were at stake. Into the bargain, the land was in utter disorder and distress, Kunz faced all odds with unflagging courage. In short, he endeavoured not merely to maintain the school’s standard of his predecessors, but also to elevate it with additional improvements.
His Vice Principal was one Menon, a graduate from an Indian university, and his Headmaster one Dandris de Silva, who was acting when he took over. The latter was an old-time typical schoolmaster of Goldsmith's description. He was wont to wear a full white suit, the coat being full-buttoned. The staff included C.V. Ranawake, A.P. de Zoysa, J.R. Peiris, J.E. Goonesekera, W.G. de Silva, affectionately known as “dadi-bidi”, W. Dharmarama, V.T.S. Sivagurunathan, Sundar Raman, W. Martin Silva, and many more. During the entire period – i.e. 1914-1926 – I was at Ananda, there prevailed an excellent camaraderie among the fellow teachers.
These were fee-levying days, when the pupils were sent home if the monthly fee had fallen into arrears. To the credit of the B.T.S. at that time, it should be said that salaries came regularly at the end of the month. An employee who was dressed in cloth and coat and sporting a small knot of a konde used to walk up to the college office with measured tread, carrying an old-fashioned leather bag which, of course, contained the teachers’ pay-packets.
There was nothing in the shape of private tuition or after-school classes. The teachers generally were sincere-hearted and very conscientious and impelled by considerations of a pupil’s future. Some boys of affluent families used to attend school dressed in cloth and coat. My impression is that the pupils of those early years were extremely well behaved, docile, courteous, obedient, and furthermore, remarkably respectful. Also, what a change we notice today.
Some of the outstanding colleges of today in Sri Lanka have each had a long line of principals and the tendency has been to associate the name of the principal who has made the most significant contribution towards giving it a distinctive character with that of the institution. Thus, the name of the principal got inseparably linked with that of the college. For example, we speak of Hartley of Royal, Stone of St. Thomas', Highfield of Wesley, Fraser of Trinity, Darrell of Richmond, Woodward of Mahinda, and so forth. Likewise, we speak of Kularatne of Ananda. Further, their memories are perpetuated by buildings being erected and named after them.
Kularatne assumed duties as Principal in January 1918, coming fresh from the London University where his career had been as brilliant as at Richmond in his final schooling years. He had obtained a first-class at the BA and the BSc, and a second at the LLB. He had also qualified as a Barrister-at-Law. Of course, he could have chosen a more resourceful calling than that of a principal, had he only wended that way. True to be spirit of service to his fellow beings, he responded nobly to the call of his Mother Lanka.
Not in his wildest dreams at the time of his university studies could he have ever suspected what actually did come about at the close of his career over there.
Qualified as he was as a lawyer and possessed of a brilliant mathematical brain and fluency of speech, he had all the chances of becoming a famous member of the forensic forum. But goddess…who…worked otherwise. So, his personal loss of a brilliant career at the Bar with his high academic qualifications became Ananda’s fortunate lot in having secured a principal not merely to guide her destinies and raise her to a lofty height of fame, but also to so consolidate Buddhist education as never to be impaired or imperilled.
On assuming duties, Kularatne had instinctively realised the glaring priorities of the school that called for his immediate attention. He had also unerringly anticipated a steady influx into the school with visible improvements. Accordingly, he showed no hesitation in launching a building scheme, even though he knew he had to surmount distressing odds.
Unfortunately, it was still war-time. The country’s trade and commerce had deteriorated, the economy sank low, and the land became unsettled. By no means deterred, he struggled on with an indomitable spirit. Some affluent Buddhists, however, realising his desperate determination and high-mindedness of purpose, came to his assistance to see that his progressive scheme got underway and forged ahead slowly but steadily.
His first building was a block of classrooms running alongside the roadway leading to the College. The last spacious room with a separate entrance was set apart as the Teachers' Room, the staff having been strengthened by then by a fair member of additions.
Then he set about the task of building a hostel, as the college boarders were being housed in a rented building called “Kityakara” in Jail Road. Considering the exigencies of the time, a building project of that nature stood as a tremendous task necessitating heavy expenditure. Nevertheless, he started a countrywide collection campaign. A few teachers were assigned to the task. I remember going out into the remote interiors with three of my colleagues to meet old boys and well-known Buddhist families. It was a perilous tour for we got marooned somewhere in the waters of that great deluge of that year.
Concurrently, with his all-out drive for raising funds proceeded his well-conceived scheme for a rapid development of the school in the intellectual sphere. Along with his offer of free scholarships to bright students chosen on the results of a competitive exam, he manoeuvred to ferret out some excellent academic talent in the teaching sphere. Thus, he managed to have on his staff, a galaxy of distinguished teachers of the day, each one of them a conspicuous figure in his line.
It was a staff the likes of which no other school had the privilege of priding itself on, and one that the College itself might not have had since. That memorable staff included, besides some already on it, C. Suntharalingam (maths), G.P. Malalasekera (languages), T.B. Jayah (western classics), William Perera (English), Walter Samarasekera (western classics), G. Weeramantry (maths), Rao (science), Roland de Zoysa (science), J.N. Jinendradasa (science), C.E. Strange (maths), S. De S. Jayaratne (classics), G.G. Ponnambalam, G.M. de Silva, and L.H. Mettananda.
Within a year or two, the well-conceived plans paid rich dividends. At the Cambridge Locals, the College scored honours, successes, and distinctions, and perhaps threw into the shade many an outstanding school of the day in the way of examination performances. E.A. Wijesuriya, M.L. Salgado, M.F. de S. Jayaratne, M.W.F. Abeykoon, and J.G. Fernando were among those who shone in the exams, the first-named coming first in the island. This flow of successes continued thereafter, enhancing the fame of the school till Ananda stood shoulder to shoulder with the other great educational institutions of the time.
After giving Ananda a prominent position among the leading schools in the island within an unanticipated short spell of a few years, Kularatne happened to reveal an inkling of his broad vision. In due course, the unexpected had happened. Parents from all over the country were clamouring and scrambling to get their children admitted into the school that had shown such a meteoric rise. The principal was at his wit’s end for a sensible solution. He hit upon the idea of opening up a sister institution and successfully pleaded with the government for land. The land thus obtained was a sizeable block of veritable jungle land, perhaps what was left of some buildable trust in the Campbell Place region. This happened to be an ideal site for a school at the time.
Accordingly, the land was cleared up and two rows of cadjan-made classrooms were put up to accommodate about three to four hundred children, most of whom had been released from the College. Kularatne put an experienced and trained teacher in charge of this ominous little school. He was W.E. Fernando, a remarkably energetic and excellent teacher who eventually retired as Headmaster of the present Nalanda Vidyalaya, Colombo.
Meanwhile, Kularatne enlisted a band of supporters and well-wishers with whose aid he raised enough funds to erect a nice imposing two-storied structure – the nucleus of Nalanda's building complex. The school population of these cadjan makeshifts were subsequently transferred to the new building to make up the lower grades. Kularatne released from the main school a tolerable number of bright students to make up the middle and upper grades. A fully fledged collegiate institution sprang up under the name of Nalanda Vidyalaya, so christened after one of the famous Buddhist universities of ancient India.
In order to make this new school a real sister institution, he released six hand-picked teachers from the main staff. They were Cyril E. Strange, S.A. Wijayatilake, J.N. Jinendradasa, V.I. Perera, D.C. Lawris, and my humble self. G.P. Malalasekera was appointed Principal.
In a couple of years, this younger sister excelled the elder in academic success. Not merely did Nalanda outclass the elder sister, but she eclipsed many a famous and well-established institution in this respect. My recollection is that Nalanda scored the best results in the Cambridge Senior and Junior exams in a number of consecutive years. None in creation could have rejoiced more at this phenomenal performance than the courageous and inspired founder.
His enthusiasm and concern were not confined to Ananda and Nalanda. They went for beyond. Under the impulse of his penetrative vision, he directed endeavours towards the furtherance and consolidation of Buddhist education in particular. This fact was borne out by his opening up schools for boys and girls in different parts of the country, such as Dharmapala Vidyalaya of Pannipitiya, Sri Sumangala of Panadura, and Ananda of Gampaha. His original Ananda Balika Vidyalaya of Temple Road was later transferred to Maligakanda; Sri Sumangala Girls’ School came later.
After accomplishing the arduous task of raising the two big Buddhist institutions to towering heights of name and fame and of establishing a network of feeder schools, he directed his attention to the rehabilitation of restoration of certain institutions that were far below the accepted standards. On one occasion, he became Principal of Dharmaraja and on another, Principal of Sri Sumangala. Finally, he occupied the position of General Manager of Buddhist schools, which enabled him to watch the progress of Buddhist education in the Island.
Patrick de Silva Kularatne was the name he adopted after he completed his academic career. To his contemporary school population, he was the lovable and affable S.K.P. de Silva, a name which adorns the exam results boards of distinguished old boys of his old school, Richmond College, Galle. He was admitted, I believe, into the Cambridge Junior Form after his early education in a high school in Ambalangoda, where he had revealed his brilliant talents.
At the Cambridge Junior Exam in 1907 and 1908, he had obtained first-class honours, and in 1909 in the Senior Exam he scored the same results. In 1910, he obtained a first division in the London matriculation exam. In order that he may obtain a high standard in western classics, he was sent to Wesley College where from the Principal, Mr. Highfield, he acquired the necessary quantum of classical knowledge. It was no wonder that he carried off the university scholarship that year.
I know Kularatne as S.K.P. de Silva in my schooling years at Richmond, where in his later years he was a college prefect. He used to be surrounded by his schoolmates with requests for solutions of mathematical problems and the translation of Latin and Greek passages. He maintained the honour of his school as the home of mathematics, for it is in this sphere that he had shown his extraordinary talents both at college and in the university.
From the very outset of his assuming duties as Principal in January 1918 till he retired from active service, Kularatne had made it clear to be Buddhist community in particular that his life's aim and desire was not merely the cause and progress of Buddhist education, but also the improvement of Buddhism as well. Very few know that it was he who started classes for the Buddhist clergy to learn English. These classes were held in a vacant building in Paranawadiya Road in the mornings and conducted by teachers from the regular staff. These classes came to be continued later at the Vidyodaya Pirivena. Some of the members of the Buddhist clergy who received this help later on published books in English on Pali and Buddhism.
Kularatne was an individual of no small intellectual stature. He was, indeed, a virtual human dynamo. Thus, he was cut out for the formidable task his destiny had set for him.
His appearance at what may be regarded as a crucial point in the course of Buddhist education was hailed as a harbinger of a glorious era, which it proved to be. It seemed as though a gracious and kindly divine power had directed him into the sphere of Buddhist education. Had it not been for his presence at the time in this environment, what might have been its fate? And the aftermath, none could even guess today. For the exigencies of the war-torn years looked so grave and dire that the concerned Buddhist public were at their wits' end looking high and low for the indisputable claimant to occupy the throne of Ananda.
The meteoric rise of the Mariakade School and the brilliance of exam results of several consecutive years had proved to be an open sesame to the heads of long-established collegiate institutions that had already reached heights of fame and tradition. The performances seemed miraculous as the change had come about within an incredibly short spell of time.
Finally, his selfless service to the national cause in general and for Buddhist education in particular will, quite apart from being immeasurable and epoch-making, remain evergreen in the grateful hearts of generation after generation to come.
(This article was written by C.E.P. Kumarasinghe for the centenary of Ananda College in 1986, not published hitherto, and was sent to us by his son, Meghavarna Kumarasinghe, himself a senior Old Anandian who was closely associated with the school for over 50 years as a student, Committee Member of the Old Boys' Association, and Joint Secretary of Senior Old Anandians’ group)
This was a transition period – an era that needed accomplished personalities of his calibre for the struggle that arose to liberate this land from the yoke of a foreign domination. Towards this goal, he laboured like a true patriot and strode the political scene like a Colossus till this tiny tot of a land that had possessed and enjoyed a glorious civilisation saw the horizon of the abode of freedom. He was none other than D.B. Jayatilaka, later knighted as Sir Baron, whose memory will, no doubt, be perpetuated not only in the records of our dear Ananda, but also in the annals of this land as one of Mother Lanka’s most redoubtable and patriotic sons.
Ananda was exceedingly fortunate to have had at the helm of affairs a person of erudition and distinction at what may be regarded as a crucial period of her growth. Principal Buultjens, his predecessor, though a scion of an illustrious Dutch Burgher family of South Ceylon of that time, had, true to the spirit of his faith, accepted this post and given the young institution the necessary shape and character to put her in line with other collegiate schools of the day. Thus, he had paved the way for his erudite successor to produce Ananda’s first university scholar in G.K.W. Perera in 1904.
Although I might appear to be digressing somewhat from my set theme when traversing the beaten track of Ananda’s youthful years immediately preceding my entry into her service, I feel I am within my rights in giving a cursory review to enable the reader to find it easy to understand how the institution was circumstanced when Kunz took over the principalship in January 1914.
At the commencement of the second term of the school year, i.e. May 1914, I saw the Principal with my letter of appointment for instructions as regards my duties. After examining my examination certificates and other relevant documents, he assigned me to the middle school. I had only a provisional certificate as a qualification, which had to be endorsed annually by the various inspectors at the annual inspection of the school. Increments to salaries were determined by the management in accordance with these endorsements.
Those were the days of the State grant-in-aid to teaching institutions, which largely depended on the Annual Inspection Report. To say the least, it was a menacing, rather harrowing experience for a teacher to go through the ordeal of teaching a class in the presence of a lynx-eyed inspector.
It so happened on a certain occasion that C.A. Wicks – MA of an English university – as inspector of maths sat in a corner of the classroom to watch me giving a geometry lesson on polygons. In order to engage me in conversation about the maths syllabus for the class, he drew a hexagon on the board and joined angular points to form triangles, each standing on a side. A daredevil sort of a boy surreptitiously manoeuvred to draw another line so as to make the figure have an additional triangle.
The conversation over, he got near the blackboard and put the question to the boy: “How many triangles do you observe in the figure?”
Came the reply: “Seven.”
Repeating the question, he asked another. “Seven, Sir.” Posing it the third time, he got a chorus of voices “Seven, Sir.”
“No,” he bawled out. “Oh, no, Sir!” they bellowed reciprocally. After the inspector had gone, there followed not a joyous symphony but a thunderous babel over the comic scene.
On another inspection, a classics inspector, L.G. Gratiaen, a distinguished Old Royalist, walked into my Latin class. Being an inexperienced and untrained stripling of a teacher yet in his teens, I had been observed to be thundering in stentorian tones in the course of the lesson. Before he walked out, he made a passing remark savouring of the reproachful: “Vox magister detrimentum discipuli” – indeed a pithy maxim. What he hinted at was that the high-pitched tone of a teacher is a hindrance to the understanding of the pupil. I gave my thanks for his advice. Those old-time inspectors seeming inconsistent with the changing educational setup have since ceased.
The original school building was T-shaped with a row of separated classrooms in each of the horizontal and vertical sections, with open sidewalks running on either side of them. The Principal’s room stood at the right end of the horizontal wing. There was no staff room as such. One really felt one was living in an emergency atmosphere.
The front portion of this two-acre block of land was ordinary open land whilst at the back of the building, there was a square-shaped patch of ground that had been used for a playground. It looked like a virtual juvenile cricket pitch but it had, strangely, nurtured the school’s early cricketers amongst whom was her first All-Ceylon player, D.L. Gunasekera, later a well-known lawyer practising in the Hulftsdorp Courts.
On the Mackwoods side of the vertical wing of the main building, Principal Kunz managed to build the spacious Olcott Hall, the first major addition to the College, after nearly 30 years. Shortly afterwards, the Dias Memorial Laboratory was put up on the highway end of the hall through the munificence of the philanthropic Jeremias Dias family of Panadura.
It was after the erection of these two buildings that the College was registered for Government Grant as an elementary school with a secondary department running up to the Cambridge Senior, the examination that determined the government scholarship on its results for the year.
During this short spell of nearly four years, Kunz laboured with no less abiding interest, selfless spirit, and unstinted zeal than any of his predecessors had. My recollection is that he started the teaching of sciences with the help of the brother-in-law. One was Gould who set up a makeshift laboratory in a classroom. Another of Kunz’s firsts was the establishment of a hostel for outstation students who were beginning to storm the school as the College was now functioning as satisfactorily as any of the well-established and old-standing institutions with high-scale examination results and appreciable inter-school sports performances.
The College boarders were housed in a large upstairs building called “Starlight” in Jail Road, a few yards away from the present St. Anthony’s Church. This hostel was shortly afterwards shifted to a very spacious single-floor building called “Kityakara”, also bordering the road but on the opposite side. Incidentally, this was an ancestral sprawling mansion of the famous cricketing family of the Goonesekeras.
I am wondering even at this date, over 70 years later, if my appointment as the Sports Master-in-Charge of the team and of other games activities, quite apart from my thinking it to be a fantastic role for me, was another of Kunz’s firsts. After the performances of the school’s early players, especially of her first All-Ceylon cricketer, D.L. Gunasekera, Ananda began to play inter-collegiate matches. If they are still among us, T.K. Burah, H.R. Perera, two distinguished players, and others of the day are sure to bear testimony to my information.
Thus, Kunz’s contribution to the progress of Ananda was not only significant and memorable, but laborious and laudable as well. The short spell of his stewardship of just four years was a very calamitous and troubled period of the century, as in his first year of principalship, the titanic World War I broke out. The next year saw the Sinhalese-Muslim riots, the proclamation of Martial Law, and its horrible aftermath. The leaders of the country were incarcerated and their lives were at stake. Into the bargain, the land was in utter disorder and distress, Kunz faced all odds with unflagging courage. In short, he endeavoured not merely to maintain the school’s standard of his predecessors, but also to elevate it with additional improvements.
His Vice Principal was one Menon, a graduate from an Indian university, and his Headmaster one Dandris de Silva, who was acting when he took over. The latter was an old-time typical schoolmaster of Goldsmith's description. He was wont to wear a full white suit, the coat being full-buttoned. The staff included C.V. Ranawake, A.P. de Zoysa, J.R. Peiris, J.E. Goonesekera, W.G. de Silva, affectionately known as “dadi-bidi”, W. Dharmarama, V.T.S. Sivagurunathan, Sundar Raman, W. Martin Silva, and many more. During the entire period – i.e. 1914-1926 – I was at Ananda, there prevailed an excellent camaraderie among the fellow teachers.
These were fee-levying days, when the pupils were sent home if the monthly fee had fallen into arrears. To the credit of the B.T.S. at that time, it should be said that salaries came regularly at the end of the month. An employee who was dressed in cloth and coat and sporting a small knot of a konde used to walk up to the college office with measured tread, carrying an old-fashioned leather bag which, of course, contained the teachers’ pay-packets.
There was nothing in the shape of private tuition or after-school classes. The teachers generally were sincere-hearted and very conscientious and impelled by considerations of a pupil’s future. Some boys of affluent families used to attend school dressed in cloth and coat. My impression is that the pupils of those early years were extremely well behaved, docile, courteous, obedient, and furthermore, remarkably respectful. Also, what a change we notice today.
Some of the outstanding colleges of today in Sri Lanka have each had a long line of principals and the tendency has been to associate the name of the principal who has made the most significant contribution towards giving it a distinctive character with that of the institution. Thus, the name of the principal got inseparably linked with that of the college. For example, we speak of Hartley of Royal, Stone of St. Thomas', Highfield of Wesley, Fraser of Trinity, Darrell of Richmond, Woodward of Mahinda, and so forth. Likewise, we speak of Kularatne of Ananda. Further, their memories are perpetuated by buildings being erected and named after them.
Kularatne assumed duties as Principal in January 1918, coming fresh from the London University where his career had been as brilliant as at Richmond in his final schooling years. He had obtained a first-class at the BA and the BSc, and a second at the LLB. He had also qualified as a Barrister-at-Law. Of course, he could have chosen a more resourceful calling than that of a principal, had he only wended that way. True to be spirit of service to his fellow beings, he responded nobly to the call of his Mother Lanka.
Not in his wildest dreams at the time of his university studies could he have ever suspected what actually did come about at the close of his career over there.
Qualified as he was as a lawyer and possessed of a brilliant mathematical brain and fluency of speech, he had all the chances of becoming a famous member of the forensic forum. But goddess…who…worked otherwise. So, his personal loss of a brilliant career at the Bar with his high academic qualifications became Ananda’s fortunate lot in having secured a principal not merely to guide her destinies and raise her to a lofty height of fame, but also to so consolidate Buddhist education as never to be impaired or imperilled.
On assuming duties, Kularatne had instinctively realised the glaring priorities of the school that called for his immediate attention. He had also unerringly anticipated a steady influx into the school with visible improvements. Accordingly, he showed no hesitation in launching a building scheme, even though he knew he had to surmount distressing odds.
Unfortunately, it was still war-time. The country’s trade and commerce had deteriorated, the economy sank low, and the land became unsettled. By no means deterred, he struggled on with an indomitable spirit. Some affluent Buddhists, however, realising his desperate determination and high-mindedness of purpose, came to his assistance to see that his progressive scheme got underway and forged ahead slowly but steadily.
His first building was a block of classrooms running alongside the roadway leading to the College. The last spacious room with a separate entrance was set apart as the Teachers' Room, the staff having been strengthened by then by a fair member of additions.
Then he set about the task of building a hostel, as the college boarders were being housed in a rented building called “Kityakara” in Jail Road. Considering the exigencies of the time, a building project of that nature stood as a tremendous task necessitating heavy expenditure. Nevertheless, he started a countrywide collection campaign. A few teachers were assigned to the task. I remember going out into the remote interiors with three of my colleagues to meet old boys and well-known Buddhist families. It was a perilous tour for we got marooned somewhere in the waters of that great deluge of that year.
Concurrently, with his all-out drive for raising funds proceeded his well-conceived scheme for a rapid development of the school in the intellectual sphere. Along with his offer of free scholarships to bright students chosen on the results of a competitive exam, he manoeuvred to ferret out some excellent academic talent in the teaching sphere. Thus, he managed to have on his staff, a galaxy of distinguished teachers of the day, each one of them a conspicuous figure in his line.
It was a staff the likes of which no other school had the privilege of priding itself on, and one that the College itself might not have had since. That memorable staff included, besides some already on it, C. Suntharalingam (maths), G.P. Malalasekera (languages), T.B. Jayah (western classics), William Perera (English), Walter Samarasekera (western classics), G. Weeramantry (maths), Rao (science), Roland de Zoysa (science), J.N. Jinendradasa (science), C.E. Strange (maths), S. De S. Jayaratne (classics), G.G. Ponnambalam, G.M. de Silva, and L.H. Mettananda.
Within a year or two, the well-conceived plans paid rich dividends. At the Cambridge Locals, the College scored honours, successes, and distinctions, and perhaps threw into the shade many an outstanding school of the day in the way of examination performances. E.A. Wijesuriya, M.L. Salgado, M.F. de S. Jayaratne, M.W.F. Abeykoon, and J.G. Fernando were among those who shone in the exams, the first-named coming first in the island. This flow of successes continued thereafter, enhancing the fame of the school till Ananda stood shoulder to shoulder with the other great educational institutions of the time.
After giving Ananda a prominent position among the leading schools in the island within an unanticipated short spell of a few years, Kularatne happened to reveal an inkling of his broad vision. In due course, the unexpected had happened. Parents from all over the country were clamouring and scrambling to get their children admitted into the school that had shown such a meteoric rise. The principal was at his wit’s end for a sensible solution. He hit upon the idea of opening up a sister institution and successfully pleaded with the government for land. The land thus obtained was a sizeable block of veritable jungle land, perhaps what was left of some buildable trust in the Campbell Place region. This happened to be an ideal site for a school at the time.
Accordingly, the land was cleared up and two rows of cadjan-made classrooms were put up to accommodate about three to four hundred children, most of whom had been released from the College. Kularatne put an experienced and trained teacher in charge of this ominous little school. He was W.E. Fernando, a remarkably energetic and excellent teacher who eventually retired as Headmaster of the present Nalanda Vidyalaya, Colombo.
Meanwhile, Kularatne enlisted a band of supporters and well-wishers with whose aid he raised enough funds to erect a nice imposing two-storied structure – the nucleus of Nalanda's building complex. The school population of these cadjan makeshifts were subsequently transferred to the new building to make up the lower grades. Kularatne released from the main school a tolerable number of bright students to make up the middle and upper grades. A fully fledged collegiate institution sprang up under the name of Nalanda Vidyalaya, so christened after one of the famous Buddhist universities of ancient India.
In order to make this new school a real sister institution, he released six hand-picked teachers from the main staff. They were Cyril E. Strange, S.A. Wijayatilake, J.N. Jinendradasa, V.I. Perera, D.C. Lawris, and my humble self. G.P. Malalasekera was appointed Principal.
In a couple of years, this younger sister excelled the elder in academic success. Not merely did Nalanda outclass the elder sister, but she eclipsed many a famous and well-established institution in this respect. My recollection is that Nalanda scored the best results in the Cambridge Senior and Junior exams in a number of consecutive years. None in creation could have rejoiced more at this phenomenal performance than the courageous and inspired founder.
His enthusiasm and concern were not confined to Ananda and Nalanda. They went for beyond. Under the impulse of his penetrative vision, he directed endeavours towards the furtherance and consolidation of Buddhist education in particular. This fact was borne out by his opening up schools for boys and girls in different parts of the country, such as Dharmapala Vidyalaya of Pannipitiya, Sri Sumangala of Panadura, and Ananda of Gampaha. His original Ananda Balika Vidyalaya of Temple Road was later transferred to Maligakanda; Sri Sumangala Girls’ School came later.
After accomplishing the arduous task of raising the two big Buddhist institutions to towering heights of name and fame and of establishing a network of feeder schools, he directed his attention to the rehabilitation of restoration of certain institutions that were far below the accepted standards. On one occasion, he became Principal of Dharmaraja and on another, Principal of Sri Sumangala. Finally, he occupied the position of General Manager of Buddhist schools, which enabled him to watch the progress of Buddhist education in the Island.
Patrick de Silva Kularatne was the name he adopted after he completed his academic career. To his contemporary school population, he was the lovable and affable S.K.P. de Silva, a name which adorns the exam results boards of distinguished old boys of his old school, Richmond College, Galle. He was admitted, I believe, into the Cambridge Junior Form after his early education in a high school in Ambalangoda, where he had revealed his brilliant talents.
At the Cambridge Junior Exam in 1907 and 1908, he had obtained first-class honours, and in 1909 in the Senior Exam he scored the same results. In 1910, he obtained a first division in the London matriculation exam. In order that he may obtain a high standard in western classics, he was sent to Wesley College where from the Principal, Mr. Highfield, he acquired the necessary quantum of classical knowledge. It was no wonder that he carried off the university scholarship that year.
I know Kularatne as S.K.P. de Silva in my schooling years at Richmond, where in his later years he was a college prefect. He used to be surrounded by his schoolmates with requests for solutions of mathematical problems and the translation of Latin and Greek passages. He maintained the honour of his school as the home of mathematics, for it is in this sphere that he had shown his extraordinary talents both at college and in the university.
From the very outset of his assuming duties as Principal in January 1918 till he retired from active service, Kularatne had made it clear to be Buddhist community in particular that his life's aim and desire was not merely the cause and progress of Buddhist education, but also the improvement of Buddhism as well. Very few know that it was he who started classes for the Buddhist clergy to learn English. These classes were held in a vacant building in Paranawadiya Road in the mornings and conducted by teachers from the regular staff. These classes came to be continued later at the Vidyodaya Pirivena. Some of the members of the Buddhist clergy who received this help later on published books in English on Pali and Buddhism.
Kularatne was an individual of no small intellectual stature. He was, indeed, a virtual human dynamo. Thus, he was cut out for the formidable task his destiny had set for him.
His appearance at what may be regarded as a crucial point in the course of Buddhist education was hailed as a harbinger of a glorious era, which it proved to be. It seemed as though a gracious and kindly divine power had directed him into the sphere of Buddhist education. Had it not been for his presence at the time in this environment, what might have been its fate? And the aftermath, none could even guess today. For the exigencies of the war-torn years looked so grave and dire that the concerned Buddhist public were at their wits' end looking high and low for the indisputable claimant to occupy the throne of Ananda.
The meteoric rise of the Mariakade School and the brilliance of exam results of several consecutive years had proved to be an open sesame to the heads of long-established collegiate institutions that had already reached heights of fame and tradition. The performances seemed miraculous as the change had come about within an incredibly short spell of time.
Finally, his selfless service to the national cause in general and for Buddhist education in particular will, quite apart from being immeasurable and epoch-making, remain evergreen in the grateful hearts of generation after generation to come.
(This article was written by C.E.P. Kumarasinghe for the centenary of Ananda College in 1986, not published hitherto, and was sent to us by his son, Meghavarna Kumarasinghe, himself a senior Old Anandian who was closely associated with the school for over 50 years as a student, Committee Member of the Old Boys' Association, and Joint Secretary of Senior Old Anandians’ group)