A Gold medal for a man with a golden heart - Alagiah Thurairajah

Portrait of Professor A Thurairajah: Pencil art by Nihal Samarasinghe of E/78

It was a weekday evening in the first part of 1982 and I was a first year student and a committee member of the Engineering Faculty Arts Circle. There were a few of us gathered in a fourth-floor room of the Andres-Nell Hall. Our task was to prepare posters for a musical show that was being organised.

If I remember correctly, except for me, all the others in the room were third or final year students who had undergone a difficult time in negotiating a fair exam timetable with the faculty administration in the previous academic year. That struggle had taken them through a number of protests and eventually a boycott of examinations.

While we were drawing sitars, thablas and other musical instruments using coloured pencils on white paper to make our posters for the show, someone burst into the room and shared the news that a new Dean for the faculty had been elected and he was someone named Thurei.

That was the first time when I heard about Professor Thurairaja. And as soon as his name was mentioned, there was jubilation among those senior students who were present. Some even clapped in joy as I remember. And from that I judged that this person named Prof Thurei, a member of the academic staff, was someone loved by the students probably because he had genuinely cared and supported engineering students during their struggle in the previous academic year.

However, it took another two years for me to meet this gentleman in person and get a better understanding of him.

The university was closed down in July 1983 first due to a student struggle that ended up with a fast-unto-death protest and an abduction of a professor of the science faculty. And the closure was extended soon, due to ethnic riots. End-of-academic-year examinations were held during that long closure with students only allowed to enter the university just four days before their respective examinations began.

When we returned to the University in January 1984 to begin a new academic year, we found that all the student representatives of the previous year's university student union (PSU) had been suspended from the university for their involvement in the fast-unto-death protest and the abduction of the professor. That was some 60-plus students I think and that included some 20-plus engineering students.

The irony was that the previous year's student protests started when six students were suspended by the university. However, now, with many more under suspension, there were no protests at all. That is obviously because the entire student leadership had been silenced and there was no one to take the leadership.

Not just at Peradeniya, but student unions had been abolished by the government in the entire university system of the country. Before its abolishment, at Peradeniya the PSU was run by the Pro-JVP socialist student union which had secured the majority number of members at elections held in December 1982. It must be mentioned here that at the Faculty of Engineering, there had not been an election to select student representatives. Instead, an independent single list has been nominated comprising of students from each and every batch representing, I guess, many political denominations and also independent apolitical students who otherwise had an interest in student politics in general.

We must also remember that by this time the JVP had been proscribed by the government and had gone underground. Therefore, those students who had some affiliations with the socialist student union the JVP were also not willing to take up the leadership and initiate a fight for the removal of these unfair suspensions of fellow students. At the same time, even those who had genuine concerns about the fellow batchmates under suspension were not immediately willing to come up to initiate a protest because there was obviously a threat of suspension hanging above.

As there were at least four fellow students from our batch under suspension, in January 1984 we gathered in Lecture room 5 to discuss the situation and to explore what we could do.

After some deliberations, it was decided that we form a small committee of volunteer representatives and take up our concerns with the Dean of the faculty, who was, of course, Professor Thurairaja. I remember one evening, without any prior appointment of course, going into the Dean’s office with a few batchmates and asking Professor Thurairajah whether he had a few minutes to spare to discuss the plight of those under suspension. I remember very well that he was most welcoming, was very much interested in hearing what we have to say and clearly demonstrated his genuine concern about the situation.

Our main concern that we took up with the Dean was that all of those who had been suspended are unlikely to be held responsible for breaching any of the university or general laws. However, as they cannot enter the university premises, they are all missing lectures, labs and design work and therefore are being punished before they are proven guilty, merely because they were student representatives at PSU on a volunteer list.

In reply, Professor Thurairajah said that he very well understood the situation and he had discussed these issues at various forums as well. He promised us that he will of course take it up with the University authorities to get the inquiry that was being conducted, expedited.

That meeting with him left a lasting impression in my mind about Professor Thurairajah as an administrator and more importantly as a human being because of his kindness and empathy that was in ample supply.

Therefore there was no surprise that each and everyone who has had some contact with him were so saddened when the news broke out late that year that Professor Thurairajah was planning to leave the University of Peradeniya to take up an appointment at the Open University in Colombo.

When the new academic year started in February 1985, Professor Thurairajah had already left the university but luckily for those civil engineering students he was still coming to the university once a week to deliver lectures on Geotechnical Engineering.

By this time, I was in our final year and my batchmates had elected me as the President of the Engineering Students Union (ESU). The ESU committee started planning a farewell for Professor Thurairajah to honour him in an unprecedented manner. It was therefore proposed that we offer him a gold medal for his service to the faculty and to engineering students.

I remember presenting this proposal at a General Body meeting of the students held at the EOE Pereira Theatre on the following Wednesday. All those who were present obviously agreed without any objections. The cost of a gold medal that we had in mind was going to cost about 10,000 Rs. At the ESU meeting, we all decided to collect 10 Rs from each student. Those who were working as instructors from our senior batch promised to contribute, and they indeed did. That was sufficient to cover the cost.

On the light side, I remember very well that there was a suggestion by one of the fellow students to hold a similar event to welcome the new Dean as well. In reply to that, my batchmate Stanley Moremada said that we should leave that for a future ESU to organise if the need arises.

A few days later, one evening, I met Professor Thurairajah in the Soils Laboratory to invite him to attend the farewell event that was being organised. He was a bit reluctant at the beginning but eventually agreed to attend.

The design of the gold medal was pretty simple. On one side, there was a line drawing of the main building of the faculty and on the other side there was a statement to the effect that the medal was presented to Professor Thurairajah to honour his yeoman's service to the Faculty of Engineering by the students of the faculty. There was a hook at the top of the gold medal and using a gold ribbon we made it into a garland. The whole procurement process of the gold medal was managed by my batchmate Rajkumar Siromani.

The first part of the function was held at the EOE Theatre. As the president of the ESU, I started the meeting and read a statement of appreciation of this man with a golden heart. Next on behalf of the academic staff, Dr Nimal Seneviratne of the Civil Engineering department spoke. After that the secretary of the ESU, Nandana Abeysuriya garlanded Professor Thurairajah with the gold medal. As I mentioned before this was an unprecedented occasion, I think, where a departing dean of the faculty was presented with a gold medal. As far as I know, this is still an unbroken record to date.

Then it was Professor Thurairaja’s turn to address the gathering. I remember him talking about his career at the faculty briefly, what he enjoyed, the reasons behind his decision to take up the appointment at the Open University and how difficult that decision was. Shown here in a photo is him speaking at the EOE with the gold medal around his neck in a garland.


Professor A Thurairajah speaking at the gold medal awarding ceremony, June 1985

That concluded the formal proceedings of the event and we all gathered at Drawing Office next to the canteen to enjoy our customary treat of occasions like this, Marie Biscuits and Milk Tea. The second photo shown here was taken during that informal session and features the members of the ESU committee with the Professor. Also in the photo is Dr Nimal Seneviratne.


Professor A Thurairajah with the ESU office bearers after the gold medal awarding ceremony in June 1985

As we know Professor Thurairajah did not work at the Open University for long and after a few years, he took up the post of VC at the University of Jaffna where he served until he moved back to Colombo medical treatment and his untimely demise.

My last memory about Professor Thurairajah is going to the Open University in Nawala to pay my respects before his body was flown to Jaffna for the cremation. While listening to Dr Sanath Ranathunge, the Dean of the Faculty by that time, who spoke at the brief ceremony held at Nawala, I was perhaps thinking about the impermanent nature of all living beings of this world.

While I am finishing off this write-up, two things come to my mind.

Firstly, it would be interesting to know what really happened to that gold medal. Did Professor Thurairajah pass it to someone before his untimely death. Is it still in its original shape?

But my second point I think negates the first.

I think most of those who remember Professor Thurairajah are now well over the age at which he left this world, where everything is impermanent. Given that context, what is the point of thinking about whatever has happened to that gold medal?

- Rasika Suriyaarachchi (E/81/214)

My distant memories about Professor S Mahalingam - Rasika Suriyaarachchi

"Don't go to Peradeniya", a friend of mine advised me strongly when he heard about my intention of studying Engineering at Peradeniya University, "the teaching staff there are BAD for students"!

Of course, I did not listen to him.

Peradeniya was my dream.

But, it was not a dream about engineering at all. My dreams were rather about Hanthana Mountains, Mahaweli River, Lover’s Lane and walking paths coved with Roberrosia petals. That colourful dream was painted in my mind by all those novels, short stories, poems and songs that I had devoured with enthusiasm while studying horrible chemistry, boring pure mathematics, a bit better physics and not-so-bad applied mathematics for the advanced level examination.

As I later found out, my friend was correct, well, at least to a certain extent.

We had some horrible lecturers during our first year with notable exceptions of witty and entertaining Ranatunga, can listen to Ranaweera, somewhat sleepy Maliyasena, neutral Samuel and the sleepy surveying lecturer whose name is not in my mind any longer.

Ours were the days when students at the Peradeniya Engineering Faculty who have definitely done very well at the extremely competitive advanced level examination to get selected to study engineering, were performing very poorly and failing miserably in their university examinations. At the end of our first year of studies, out of batch of 250, about 35 of my fellow batchmates failed to gain entry to the second year of study despite having two chances to pass five out of seven subjects.

However, more or less the same number of students from the batch a year senior to us, had already joined us by that time having had the same fate a year or so before. Therefore, there were still about 250 students at the end of our second year to sit the examinations.

Thirty five students (out of 250) failing to proceed to the second year of study may sound a disaster. However, that was a much better situation than the previous couple of years (before our entry into the faculty) where as many as sixty students have met with the same fate two years in a row.

I have heard some argue that language difficulties faced by students are the main reason for these mass scale failures. That may be just one contributing factor but not at all the end of the story.

We had Sinhala and Tamil lectures for Thermo Dynamics, Fluid Mechanics and Materials Science during most of our first year. That did not mean at all that students performed well in those subjects. Besides, Workshop Technology which was entirely taught in English was perhaps the subject that everyone fared well. Sanath Ranatunga who lectured Workshop Technology undoubtedly won the best lecturer trophy in our first year.

It was pretty obvious that the way knowledge is disseminated to the student by means of lectures was a critical factor in horribly poor performance by otherwise bright students in the faculty. Needless to say, lecturers had a lot to answer here, if they had any concerns about the plight of the students, that is!

I was with a group of senior students working on the one-man musical show of Cyril Galappathi when the news broke out that Thureirajah has been elected as the new dean of the faculty replacing Jayasekara. I very well remember how joyful our seniors became when they heard the news. They were of course still bitter with Jayasekara, having undergone a lengthy struggle during Jayasekara's Deanship to get a decent timetable for year-end examinations. Thureirajah was known as a kind hearted man and an excellent lecturer as well. But he was only teaching third and fourth year students who specialised in civil engineering.

Our second year was not any better when the lecturers are concerned. Needless to say, Gunawardena who lectured applied electricity (or electronics as it was better known) was the worst of the lot. He was more fearsome than Jayatilake and Sivasegaram who lectured us Physics II in the first year, put together.

Fortunately, Mahalingam who lectured us Mechanics of Machines was a dream-come-true for all of us. He was definitely from a different world than the world the most of the other lecturers came from. Mahalingam was extremely methodical in his teaching, neat and precise in his writing on the blackboard, courteous towards students and most of all he was very handsome and charming. He won the hearts of all of us within five minutes of his first lecture itself.

Lectures on Mechanics of Machines required a lot of geometrical diagrams and equations to explain the concepts. Mahalingam came to the lecture theatre equipped with a large wooden compass with a piece of chalk attached to one arm and he drew perfect circles and arcs on the blackboard using that. I think, he also carried a large wooden divider as well and used that wherever it was required to divide a line into equal segments. He also had a good collection of chalks of different colours and his teaching paraphernalia included his own duster as well to wipe out the board once it is needed to write on again.

With all that near perfect qualities as a lecturer, not only he was able to teach us the concepts of the subject effectively but also he did enable us to take good quality complete notes.

Mahalingam also carried a set of hand written notes with him in a file and he would refer to them while lecturing and drawing on the board. When he turned pages of those notes, if you are sitting in one of the front rows, you would notice that they are pretty old and fading in colour. It was an often cited joke that those notes he was using are from the 50s, when he started teaching the subject.

The other thing we noted was that being a mechanical engineer he was still using the mechanical slide ruler to work out the answers for examples he used in lectures. During the study leave period when we work the same examples out we see that the answers we get using our electronic calculators were always a few decimal places different from his answers.

There is no shame in saying that as undergraduates at the Faculty of Engineering at University of Peradeniya, most of us were quite afraid of lecturers such as Jayathilake, Sivasegaram, Gunawardena and to a certain extent Jayasekara. If we see them walking towards us in the faculty corridor, it was always advisable to avoid facing them or walk with your eyes set downwards. Often said story about Jayatilake that he would even keep his eyes on students walking on the road connecting the faculty building with Gampola Road with special rear-view mirrors in his car was not just an urban myth as we found out on 4 March 1985. Furthermore, who would ever forget the "heh, heh, heh, Kalu Banda!" freaky story about Gunawardena once you hear about it?

However, seeing Mahalingam walking along the corridor from the faculty car park close to the canteen towards his office in machine lab or walking along university roads close to Sangamitta was always a pleasant scene. In some of his evening walks, we have seen his wife joining him as well.

Despite being there at Peradeniya for four years and despite being lectured by him in my second and fourth years, unfortunately, I have had only two opportunities of talking with Mahalingam.

I will write about those two encounters in the second part of this article.

Link to part-II: http://efacmemories.blogspot.com/2015/12/yes-of-course-i-do-said-professor.html

-Rasika Suriyaarachchi [E/81/214]

(image: http://tamildiplomat.com/the-funeral-of-famed-engineer-professor-mahalingam-held-yesterday-at-alaveddy/)

Teacher par excellence and gentleman by nature - by Kumar David

Published in www.lakbimanews.lk

There is no one mould into which all great men fit; some are remembered for an achievement or a contribution that changed the world, others for the influence they had on those who came in touch with them, still others for style, or honour, or for a job well done over a lifetime. In the narrower ambit of academic pursuit there are scholars who make valued contributions, wonderful teachers, and still others who make their students who and what they are. Then there are men for all seasons; they stand before a class with passion and erudition, they elucidate with limpid clarity, and outside class they are men of unmistakable honour, remembered not only till they shuffle off this mortal coil, but rather till those who sat in their classrooms, once upon a time, remain among the quick.

Everard Frederick Bartholomeusz, born on December 30, 1920 in Ceylon who died in the US on October 22, this year, Freddie to his colleagues and Batho to an ever appreciative retinue of students, was one of them. Those who had the privilege of schooling in the Faculty of Engineering of the University of Ceylon in the 1960s supped on the finest academic fare offered, by any university, at any time, in this country. Devotees of other disciplines, or from other vintages, may incline to say otherwise, but it is unlikely any can win the unanimous acclaim that this proposition will score among those who were there at that time.

There were giants and there were men of many colours; Professors E.O.E. Pereira and Robert Paul were giants, respected like no other across the nation’s engineering space. It is said that when Paul spoke to the Bursar on the telephone, the latter stood up at the other end of the line to say his, “Yes Sir.” Was Mahalingam (Dr, not yet Prof, in my time) more brilliant or more precise? Then nearer my age, there was brave Alagiah Thurairaja, blue-eyed boy of the academic record-books and founder of a research culture in the Faculty, who I am proud to call friend, colleague and comrade. There were others, colourful, bright, larger than life, but I have to return to my theme, Batho, who latched perfectly into this setting and its intellectual ethos. Batho’s claim to fame, apart from personal rectitude, was that his students, probably without exception, would name him as the best teacher they ever had.

Brilliant record

Batho was educated at St. Joseph’s College, Darley Road, and then took a First in Mathematics at the London University External BSc degree in 1942. He read for a PhD in Cambridge and graduated in 1955 in which year he also married Evelyn. Sometimes Evelyn would ride up to Sampson’s Bungalow on the pillion of Batho’s scooter to the admiring but shaded eyes of Batho’s students. They had two children, both boys.

Batho was promoted to founder Professor of Engineering Mathematics in 1965. He left Sri Lanka for Zambia in 1974. He chatted to a very junior me: “Kumar, I decided to look for a job overseas the day they introduced media-wise standardisation into university admissions; I knew my boys would never be given a fair chance.” Batho was a Burgher and he was also sensitive to broader issues of ethnic discrimination after 1956, which again raised its ugly head after 1970.

An essential aspect of Batho’s method was that his was a course in engineering mathematics, not mathematics, and his department was Engineering Mathematics. I have worked in several universities in many continents and found it difficult to get this concept across, especially when as a Head or a Dean I favoured bringing the teaching of mathematics to engineering students closer to home. It is not that teaching must be done by engineers, Batho and his successor Prof. Samuel graduated in mathematics; it is to do with the mind-set. Batho and Sammy bridged the gap skilfully by immersing themselves in an engineering culture. In class, they never slacked on formal mathematical rigour, and it was more than simply using engineering examples as illustrations, it was about academic identity.

This brings me to another matter. I am often asked about my interest in Marxism and politics. Most people assume that my background is in political science, or economics or maybe history. And this presumed paradox extends beyond my case to many engineers drawn to political theory, social and environmental issues and even active politics. The question often asked is: ‘How come so many of you engineering types have got into this trying to change the world business?’ Apart from the obvious reply that all men and women should be concerned about the world they live in, there is a deeper and truer answer. Those most fit to change the modern world are those who stand at the intersection of engineering and political science, the cross roads of science and sociology. Without an ambidextrous aptitude it is not possible to make programmatic sense in modern times.

Professors Thurairajah, R.H. Paul, Mahalingam and Batho grasped the social and political meaning of their times. I will not say that those of us engineers who came to politics did so because of these associations, there were much stronger influences at work outside, but it would be correct to say we enjoyed these interactions. Batho was not political in the usual sense of the term, but moral responsibility propelled him inexorably into the affairs of the university community. University reform proposals – sometimes wise and sometimes not, government interference bent on curbing academic freedom or breaking up legitimate student activity, and the customary quota of student unrest, would find Batho concerned and involved. Maybe drafting staff position papers; maybe wading into the thick of troubles where the respect he commanded enabled him to pacify anger; that was Batho. Unfortunately, everywhere, such interventions became tense and less productive in the context of 1971 and thereafter because it didn’t stop there. Now in Sri Lanka we live in an age of moral and social autism and the university ethos and community have decayed in proportion.

Manners are never enforceable and Batho’s life was proof of it; his gentlemanly disposition came entirely naturally and from the inside. “His life was gentle, and the elements so mixed in him that Nature might stand up and say to all the world: This was a Man!”

-Kumar David

(photo: http://www.lakbimanews.lk/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=3587:kumar-david-writes&catid=46:columns&Itemid=50)