A physician offers four lessons for a lifetime

year was 1958. I was a final-year medical student. One cent was a respectable sum then. A beggar squatting on a pavement asked me for money. I gave him one cent. This is what he said:: “Mahattaya, mey sathey umbe p--e gahaganin, ethakota umba kana kemath ituruwewi” (Mister, plug your anus with this coin and then you can also save what you eat). That day I learnt an important lesson in life. If you give something, give properly and adequately, or do not give at all.

As a young doctor in the 1960s, driving a flashy new Volkswagen Beetle, I would frequently and unnecessarily toot the car horn. (In those days, I believed that one should run because life is short, until my father said we should walk, not run, precisely because life is short.) I was tooting the horn in an attempt to overtake the car in front of me. The car stopped and a foreigner stepped out. He walked up to my car, and I lowered the window. This is what he said, very politely: “Young man, don’t you know that every time you toot that horn you pollute the environment? Aren’t you ashamed to pollute your beautiful country?” Saying that, he walked back to his car and drove off.

Since that day, I use the horn only in emergencies. Most of the time, I do not sound the horn at all. So much so that last month, during a drive to Kataragama and Yala with my nephew, I took a bet with him that I would not use the horn, and believe me, I covered 750 kilometres, up and down, without horning even once. I won the bet. People in Singapore and Britain never sound their vehicle horn; they flash the headlights when they want to overtake a vehicle. Their patience is unbelievable.

To be continued next week

Nawala