Page 28 - Memoirs of Sarasworthy Somasundaram

Daya’s Return

(1972)
George Annan’s Dilemah
Daya and his friend were travelling by land after London, adjusting their route, mode of
travel, stops etc to suit their inclination and their purse.

The last lap of the journey Daya travelled alone because he was timing his return to coincide
with Shankaran’s birthday. His friend caught up with him at Uduvil a month or two later.

At Madras he called at Women’s Christian college and somehow convinced the Principal
that he was a safe and acceptable escort for Sentha. I still sometimes wonder how he did,
but he did!

The two travelled via Trincomalee to Palali and walked in through the college gates, late one
evening, the watcher saw them and panicked. He recognised Sentha. He vanished. He’d
gone straight to Nallamah Acca.

Principal Amma’s daughter has just walked in with a strange young man. They’re walking
towards the mission house. In the meantime, there was a sort of Birthday Party going on at
the Mission house. It was Shankaran’s birthday and some of his cousins were having fun
and enjoying themselves in the drawing room. I’d gone out with Bobby to attend some late
last-minute arrangement re-the wedding. Sentha had vanished via the back entrance and
Daya (unshaved face and strange attire) had walked up the front steps. George Annah and
some of the older family members were seated out on the front veranda. “I want to meet
the Principal Amma, where is she?” They were completely taken by surprise. They tried to
shoo him away with “She’s gone out, go away!”

But he stood his ground. “Oh, then I’ll wait for her.” And he took the upright chair next to
the visitor’s bell.

This was too much for George Annan. He called to the younger nephews inside “Come here,
drive this chap out…” But of course, they had by then met Sentha, and no one moved to
help. As the minutes ticked by, George Annan grew more and more agitated.

Eventually the college car drove in. As it drove up to the portico, Daya jumped up from his
chair, rushed to the car and opening the door, stretched out his hands to pull me out.
“Principal Amma, Principal Amma…” My driver, Sinnathurai came rushing round the car, to
pull him back. Bobby had gotten out of the car, on his side and stretching out his hand
stopped Sinnathurai. “Sinathurai stop, he is her son.” “Son?!” gasped Sinnathurai.
To be honest it took even me a second or two to recognise my son. (Of course, I always
claim it was too dark!)

Poor George Annan, there were young people standing around laughing. He must have felt
foolish.

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