I was born in Sri Lanka, but lived abroad most of my life from infancy. Having spent my life in Africa and North America, my visit to my grandparents in the land of my birth was a most fascinating, loving and unforgettable experience.

My American Peace Corps service was coming to an end in Mozambique. I successfully accomplished two years, teaching English as a Second language in rural villages and developed an HIV \ AIDS awareness community program. For a man of my age, in my early twenties, it was challenging. I learnt so much and it was an inspiration for future goals and ambitions.

As a Sri Lankan Tamil settled down in America, I was thinking of my country of origin, my roots, family and cultural identity. The last time, I was in Colombo, was seven years ago and ever since then, I itched to return. Before that, I did not have the time, being preoccupied with college, summer interning, and then after graduating, Peace Corps. My old maternal grandparents are still alive and residing in Colombo. I knew this would be the only opportune time to visit and understand my family heritage. My paternal grandparents had passed away. My paternal grandfather had been a successful civil servant from the days before independence. My maternal grandfather is a retired physician, who has served in different parts of his country.

As I departed from Johannesburg, South Africa, all I thought about was being with Patta and Ammama (grandfather and grandmother in Tamil) and yearning to learn about their past. I had new expectations and wanted to accomplish them, as I did in Mozambique. I was keen to learn about the rich family heritage that I was born into.

As I exited the Colombo International Airport, my cousin was waiting for me. We embraced, and I cried overcome by emotion that I had arrived in the country of my birth. As we drove to my mother’s house, I kept on asking questions about Patta and Ammama, After a quick shower and breakfast, I rushed off to my grand parents’ house which is not far. I did not know what to say when I see them. How do I commence the conversation, and what gestures do I need to do?

I opened the big black gates and then gingerly walked into the house. There, like a king, proudly sitting was Patta, and I rushed and kissed him on the cheek. I could not let go for at least two minutes and then I searched for Ammama. She was in the kitchen, seated and looking blankly into the open. She smiled, kissed me and we embraced. She always had that soft touch that can heal anything that is bruised, scratched or torn apart. The warm hug of my grandmother was a perfect cure for me after the two challenging years as a Peace Corps Volunteer.

Patta is an amazing man at the age of 94 years, despite suffering from Parkinson’s disease and diabetes. His mind is crystal clear and spoke with eloquence and clarity. On the other hand, Ammama has psycho dymensia and is at the last stage, where she can only remember her childhood. I was upset, but suppressed my emotions from crying. I was brooding over the fact that they had to spend the evening of their lives all by themselves, while their children were dispersed in different parts of the world. This I presume, is the situation in most Sri Lankan Tamil families.

I stayed in Sri Lanka for three months and during those months, my parents, uncles and aunts from England, United States, and within Sri Lanka would be coming in and out. It was a great moment to see all of them and to re-connect with old bonds and prepare future plans. Having not seen family member for years and then overwhelmed with love and support, it was an extraordinary experience not felt by me for a long time.

After the relatives had departed to their respective countries, I had only two months left to understand and relate to Patta’s history and feelings. I was always there by nine in the morning, had lunch with them, and left around five in the afternoon. I tape recorded, and wrote down everything he told me, and then afterwards reflected on the discussion that we had on that day. To young people like us, living in the comforts of the Western world and brought up in affluence, it is food for thought to know how our forefathers lived and struggled to come up in life in the land of our birth.

Patta’s life story is something which should inspire his descendants. He was son of a poor farmer and only started attending school at the age of eleven. He and his six brothers had to help his parents in the rice fields in Jaffna (Northern Sri Lankan). He had to rise at three in the morning and plough the fields, return to the house for breakfast and then prepare for school. After school, he would help his mother with odd chores in the house and then, return back to the fields to cultivate it until seven-eight at night. He would have dinner at nine and then he would complete his homework assignments. With some assistance from his cousin, he went to school and had to learn to write and speak English. After his secondary schooling, he passed by being placed first in his class. Taken note by his cousin, the latter strongly urged Patta to enter University and then to study Medicine in Colombo. After passing out in medicine, he began to help his brothers to go through school in Jaffna and Colombo.

After qualifying as a doctor from the Colombo Medical College, he had an arranged marriage into an affluent family in Colombo. He had an obligation to the country to serve his people and was sent to rural districts in Sri Lanka. Patta and Ammama had five children, three boys and two daughters and all of them grew up to have aspiring careers. Four of them continued the tradition and entered the Medical field. Some of them left for United States and England, to begin their careers and start their own families. Two of my uncles are well known in the medical profession in New Jersey.

Patta is a man about family unity and knew that with a strong knit family, you will have endless support. Patta’s life was tough, studying late into the night, writing letters to his brothers in Jaffna, and continuously persevering for the prosperity of his family. He was carrying the family responsibilities and made sure everyone was looked after properly. As I sat there, listening to him, we developed a bond and affection towards each other. He illustrated our family heritage by precisely giving names of his uncles and aunts. He would add comic stories and some solemn events that happened.

He narrowly escaped death during the anti-Tamil riots of 1958, when he was serving as a doctor in Polonnaruwa. He had the sad experience of seeing the clinic that he established in Colombo, destroyed overnight by the rampaging mobs during the 1983 genocide. His son (ie. my uncle), who had taken over from him, had to leave Sri Lanka and start life all over again in America.

As my stay with Patta was coming to an end, I had got used to his presence and my regular routine trips to other relatives in Colombo. How was I going to depart? How was I going to leave a man that has showed the essence of his true nature of life? I knew I would be really emotional and this time it would be difficult to suppress my sentiments. On our last day, I talked to Patta about my aspirations and goals which need to be achieved. He listened attentively to the new path which I am about to embark and provided words of encouragement. Patta’s philosophy is that education is the key to success and through determination one can achieve the goals. . His words will never be erased from my memory and I can only pass it down to the next generation.

My family’s successes are partly due to Patta’s determination and quick rational thinking. He has provided support to immediate and extended families, emotionally, and materially. Even the grandchildren’s progress are due to Patta’s accomplishments. As I sit here in our air conditioned home in New Jersey, I can only wonder how far we of the younger generation have come, from the scorching fields of our forefathers in Northeast Sri Lanka.

Patta, I thank you and I will always love you. Wherever I am, I will never let those cherished memories fade away.