By Renton de Alwis
The backdrop to this story is the ‘Senior Common Room (SCR)’ of the Kaleniya University in the early 1970’s. By the way, for those who may wonder what this strange sounding place is, the term was used to call what was then an ‘institution’, in the university glossary of terms. I wonder if they continue to call it the same now.
It was the place reserved for university teachers
to rest, read newspapers but refrain from talking about anything serious. I
must mention that there was very little fun in there. All the fun was within
the class rooms, tutorial classes, halls of residence, student’s canteen and
where some student groups met in secret. For a few of us, we also sought regular
fortnightly fun on the beaches of UK. Don’t get me wrong, my reference is to
the fun all day sessions we had, to discuss serious affairs with the
accompaniment of some fresh 'straight from the tree' toddy, a la Usswatekeiyawa style.
Yet, like the description I heard once about the
famous Orange Free State of South Africa, that said; “There are no oranges here,
it’s for sure not free and we are in a hell of a state,” there was nothing
‘senior’ about the Senior Common Room. The cub lecturers we were then, we also
had license to be there. There was
nothing ‘common’ about it too, for that was reserved exclusively for lecturers.
Students and ‘minor’ employees, as they were pathetically called then, were
certainly not welcome in there. It was bigger than any tutorial room I had
seen, and given the use we put that into, I wondered why we did not call it a
lounge sans the glamour.
There was once a case in the Colombo University,
when a very senior don who was President of the Senior Common Room Committee
there, barred any other lecturer, except those from that university from
entering the SCR. That ban was a folly
and only lasted a few months.
Well! Getting back to my story, on this day, a
lecturer was reading a newspaper and his mind’s eye had caught on to a story of
a very serious road accident, that killed a few people. It was clearly a case
where preventive action, could have saved the loss of those lives and being the
good and kind soul he was (may his soul rest in peace and find the eternal
bliss of Nibbana), he exclaimed loudly for all other's in the room to hear “Oh! No!
prevention is always better than Corray”.
Note that our late friend had got the pronunciation of the word ‘cure’ wrong,
be it a mistake made or a genuine ‘lapsus de langue’ i.e. a slip of the tongue.
But wait! The best is yet to come. Our friend
Dr. Cooray, a very senior don then, had heard this statement while being
engrossed in the pages of the newspaper he was reading and was quick to quip “I
say … who is this Prevention, who is better than ME, ” with a strong emphasis
on the 'me'.
Modified image from Google images |
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