I completed my internship at Colombo University today and I’m actually rather missing it now.Strange, coz I’m quite a firm believer that internships were invented to ruin one’s precious summer holidays. I went there as a research intern, did that for a while, got familiar with a few software packages and discovered that they dont exactly research the fields I want to, and that my knowledge in certain areas was a bit inadequate for me to make a significant contribution to the research that they were doing.

About three weeks later, the head of department asked me if I wanted to contribute to the academic side of things as in, write question papers, modify the syllabus etc. So there I was, plonked with the 1st year math for IT syllabus for the BIT degree and other material and told to “write egs., write notes, make the slides more student friendly and write exam questions, so you can contribute to the question database…” Initially setting about it was rather awkward, for the only time I had dabbled with syllabuses and past papers and the like had been when I was at the recieving end, as a student.

Once I did get into the rhythm of it, I was surprised at myself to find out how much I actually enjoyed it, how it came quite naturally to me. As much as I complained about it looming over my head everyday for the past two months, deep down inside I was kinda having fun.The fact that my work would be appreciated and that it would be ‘eventually’ put into use was, I think, a big contributing factor into the equation and since I was messing around with maths in a more straightforward sense, unlike in my previous work experiences, I actually understood what on earth I was doing.Writing test papers, too I must admit was a flattering task, especially since I’m still a student, myself.Education is something I sincerely enjoy, I really enjoyed my school life and I love university and I know that however much I deny it, I dont exactly mind studying either,I have also come to realise that I love advising people on universities, the subjects they should study and the importance of studying in general; so the field of education,to me in general is, a comfortable one.

Having realised that the fancy corporate/commercial sector is not my thing, I have more or less set my sights on research sciences, so I can remain in and research, what I loved learning about, but after this stint, I’m wondering that maybe I should become an educationist-cum-research scientist, not necessarily in the capacity of a teacher or professor, but in terms of things like syllabus reforms, question papers etc etc, so I can remain in the field that I enjoy whilst actually encouraging people to broaden their perspectives and knowledge.

Working in Colombo uni, too is an experience by itself.Quite a different atmosphere to what I experience(d) as university back in St-Andrews, it, was quite a ‘culture shock’ to me during the first week. Later on though, when I got used to the stares and when the people I worked with got more friendly, it became quite a laugh.I never actually realised the magnitude of the place until I started working there. It is just huge.and pretty too, if only they bothered to maintain it properly. It is such a shame that such a beautiful place is soo poorly presented because simple maintainance procedures such as mowing the lawns and colour washing the buildings are not done regularly.Even though it does lack the resources to push on with sufficient research that need to be done, as one of the foremost universities in the country, it is very academically strong and even though, I will probably never want to make a career in the place, if ever I do take a gap year(which I’m seriously considering) between completing St-Andrews and starting a postgrad or if I ever take a serious break in my career later, teaching in Colombo uni is something I will very seriously consider taking up.

I sit here and try hard to continue my work assignment, but the memories keep coming and all of a sudden I’m caught in the nostalgia. I give up the assignment and begin to type.

I’m not sad, at least not in the literal sense, but as I sit and type, I’m just numb by the fact I that I’ve never even considered him or his death. Isn’t it weird that we never considered the people who play a big role behind the curtain? The people, if not for whom, a lot of things we did, wouldn’t have been possible.

I was 10 when I first met David and 17 or 18 when he left our employment last year. Our previous driver had been a crook and everyone was relieved to get David. He was from the old school; principled, neat, respectable and he was the former chauffeur of my parents’ previous boss. He was safe, trustworthy and known.

Over those 7-8 years, through my colorful adolescence, he drove me through three different schools, a countless number of music lessons, swimming lessons and tuition classes. He chose to keep shut when I fought with my mum in the back seat or cried after my OL maths paper, he chose to ignore when a pack of us, girls would get into the car and chat incessantly and he chose to not tell when I went shopping for my, then high school love, after school.He knew everywhere I went. Every house of my friends, be it old or new. He every shop I went to, every place I went to. He just drove. Wherever we told him to.

I’m now numb with the realization that he knew so much, but never told. Not because I ever told him to, but out of respect. That was his way, he needn’t be told.

He retired, sometime last year, finally giving in to my father’s rants about how he is not fit anymore for driving,yet then, he stayed until I finished my holidays.

He drove me for the last time on my 19th birthday last year. He was no more an employee, but had just happened to visit on that day and felt bad that I was sulking due to the absence of our current driver.I met him, less than a month ago when he visited us with rambutan and the his customary ‘halapa’. He went into cardiac arrest whilst we were on holiday in Thailand, around two weeks ago and my father told me of his death, on Saturday, I knew. I had expected it.

Visiting his home on Monday evening, I’m shocked by the distance he travelled everyday and am silently ashamed when I remember how annoyed I used to be when he would get half an hour late.

So here I am, trying to pay homage to a man, if not for whom my adolescence would have been very different, with a few disjointed sentences and a countless number of memories. To a man, I never thought would be dead, I have no regrets,but as the memories start flooding in and my thoughts go into a whirlpool, in this solitude, my eyes start to mist , as I grip the fact the never will I see him ever again .