By Amrit David –

So I’m going to start by telling you all a little secret. You see, my dad was was my hero.

I didn’t grow up with Batman or Superman I grew up with my dad. My father who in all honesty I modeled my life after in many ways. You see my father was so many things to so many people; one man who in his time played many parts. For some he was a leader of Marxist thought and rioter (in today’s vernacular that’s “an advocate for social change”). For others he was a teacher, a lecturer, a professor; an expert on electrical engineering and power systems, solar and wind (pun intended for he could clear a room). The details of my father’s accomplishments on these fields (except the wind) are sadly beyond my knowledge. However, from what I have read and heard the impact has been lasting.

Professor Kumar David (1941-2024)

For many of us he was family. The joker, the partner in crime, the teaser of boyfriends, the instigator, the life of the party, for a brief period a carrot top and, his favorite past time, the puller of sarongs. And while my father wasn’t always the easiest man to deal with, he never had malice or bad intentions in anything he did.

His antics were his quirky ways of showing love. You see my dad was my hero.

I know nothing of electrical engineering other than what my father taught me about Michael Faraday and the invention of the generator. For what’s its worth and Allison (my wife) can attest I recently tried to educate my children on those topics, but to no avail. But I learned that accomplishments have no short cuts. He would spend months on research papers. I could see it was about hard work, putting in the hours and being focused. Great things don’t just happen. My father thought me and the thousands of students that graced his lecture halls that success comes from perseverance and a sound education; there is no substitute.

Politics was my father’s passion. The inscription on Marx’s tomb at Highgate Cemetery reads “The philosophers have only interpreted the world. The point however is to change it”. My father always strived to change it. In is youth he lived by those words. I understand it got him on several unsavory lists and a police file that took up an entire filing cabinet.

When we left Sri Lanka in 1980 to begin a life abroad, his body might have physically moved, but my father’s heart and soul never did. As more and more family and friends emigrated to the US, UK or Australia my father kept going back to Sri Lanka till the end. He never claimed any other citizenship than Sri Lankan; I believe for him that was a badge of honor.

The details of my father’s colorful political history I will not recant, there’s a cadre of comrades who are better equipped than I. But, what I have finally understood is that he was passionate about Sri Lanka, they were his people and that was where his heart was. He never wanted to be away for too long.

For any of the readers of my father’s columns in the lsland or Colombo Telegraph they with be familar with his gift of prose. He would write with a sense of clarity, style, and unbridled passion. While it was largely about politics and economics, he found ways to share life lessons or eulogies of his own recently departed cousin. He knew to quote Shakespeare a much as Trotsky, to cite Poe or Psalm 23. While he isn’t here to teach us anymore, I’m so glad he wrote so much and that we have something to look back upon and be inspired by. It gave him such joy in sharing his mind with us. We must all acknowledge the world is a much poorer place without it.

This brings us to an important interlude. My father and I never talked about his one glaring failure as leading Marxist political figure. His son is an investment banker living in New York. And I understand a pretty good one at that.

But, let us not digress too much. You see my Dad was my hero.

My father gave life to his immediate and extended family without fail. No one ever forgot meeting Kumar-mama. He wasn’t shy, he loved being inappropriate, he had a wryly grin. He wanted to engage you in conversation. As Allison learned over time, my father did not take to Wall Flowers he wanted you to fight back, to stand up in what you believed, to put him in his place. He wanted you to have conviction.

If U Prem were here he would regale us of the story of how my father and I dressed in Kimono’s and picked him up at Kai Tak airport in Hong Kong. The looks we got were deathly… but the laughs were belly busting.

My father took us around the world. I love being in London as that is where I have some of the fondest memories with him; sitting on the upper deck of a red double decker bus and watching the world go by. We went on elaborate Safaris (I wasn’t on the one where they got chased by a heard of elephants), we admired the glory of the Taj Mahal, we gazed at Mt Everest, we stood atop the Empire State Building, we pushed suitcases along 42nd street. We explored the inner depths of the great pyramids of Giza, we modeled in front of Michaelango’s David in all his resplendent beauty.

He opened our eyes to so much. You see my Dad was my hero.

I would be remiss if didn’t mention the greatest influences on his life. Karl Marx… so moving on as this won’t be about politics. There were his partners in crime as a young man in Colombo; to many friends and Appapillai, Peries or Joseph cousins to list. My mother who somehow put up with him for 55 years and helped shuttled him back and forth the past couple years. While there were lot of uncle and aunty’s there was U. Andrew (Uncle Mama to me) for who my father always found a special place. My mother’s side of the family the Leula sisters over the years couldn’t but adopt him as their own dubocherous bother. And Asela and Anusha who he adopted as his own and in many ways gave them wings to soar. The list is endless.

Importantly there his doting mother, Helen Amybelle Joseph. My grandmother passed away 20 years ago and at the time I recall my father’s sadness noting to me that she had always been the greatest influence on his life; his moral compass. We’ll get to heaven later, but I hope he finds his way back to her.

When we lived in Hong Kong my father would take me to this spot at the end of a rocky stone pier and for hours we would watch planes at Kai Tak airport. We didn’t really talk alot, we sat and watched planes land and take-off, but that was my dad. Sometimes we just sat there. For those of you who tried to get him on the phone it was hello, how are you? Ok, good, talk later, goodbye. Literally, that was it. If we got more than two minutes it was a miracle. But boy could my father write an 8 bullet-pointed email, color-coded and in CAPS.

I recently took Addie and Andy (my children) to watch the planes land over our head in St Marteen; I also have a full color pallete at the stand-by for email responses. You see my Dad was my hero.

While my father was baptized twice he was a man of science (political and philosophical) so heaven or re-incarnation are not in the cards; I will respect that. Dad, so while it means you won’t be looking down and watching over us, it doesn’t mean you haven’t given us everything we need to do it ourselves. While for most of my life you were literally on the other side of the world; I will now be doing it alone. You have been our Shepard the past 83 years. Your words and advice will be our rod, your unwavering strength of character our staff. They will be our comfort. Throughout your life you have given us a cup that now overflows. Your goodness and love will follow us.

My father thought there no English literary mind better than Shakespeare so I will end with this from Julius Cesar. “And whether we will meet again I know not. Therefore our everlasting farewell take: forever and forever, farewell! If we do meet again, why, we shall smile; if not, why then, this parting was well made.”

So Dad I think you get it. You are a hero to so many of us family, friends, colleagues – all of us.

I love you and I will miss you so much.

Love your loving son.

*A Eulogy of Prof A. Kumar David by his son at his funeral held in Los Angeles, USA on October 18, 2024