My favourite contemporary Sri Lankan poet, Ruwan Bandujeewa, has come out with his third collection of poems, Dhoomalaavanyaagaaraya. I’ll come to the title in a moment. This comes a decade after The next wine and 15 years after his maiden collection, Alcohol Nomethi Sanda (A moon sans alcohol).
As sweet as the one that came before, Dhoomalaavanyaagaraya intoxicates. Just to give a flavour, here’s the first verse of ‘Kanagarayan Aru’ (the only river in Sri Lanka that flows to the North).
Ignoring kings and ministers
who seeing a river
would with sweet words
stop and turn it southward
the river Kanagarayan Are
flows unwavering
to the North.
The collection deserves a careful read and a decent review. Ratna Sri Wijesinghe, Liyanage Amarakeerthi and Sunanda Karunaratne are eminently suited for this task. There could be others. I am fascinated by the title.
‘Think of roopalaavanyaagaaraya,’ he told me. I’ve replacedroopawith dhooma. The word ‘roopa’ refers to form, but it can and has been used as a synonym for countenance and even beauty. A ‘roopalaavanyaagaaraya’ would be a beauty salon, a place where the face, typically, is made up. ‘Smoking room/salon’ would be a decent translation of ‘doomalaavanyaagaaraya,’ but it implies the application of something opaque upon things. The poet cuts through and reveals what he considers the unfilled truths that are too often dressed up and therefore rendered unrecognisable.
It’s a poem. A one word poem.
It reminded me of a similar ‘poem,’ one penned by my friend, part-time boss and mentor in all things related to advertising, Irvin Weerackody, ‘boss’ of Phoenix Ogilvy.
It happened a long time ago, I believe at the time when Irvin was the United National Party’s organiser for the Maharagama Electorate. It may have been later too, for he was often invited to speak at various events in that area, long after he ‘retired’ from electoral politics.
He had been invited to speak at the opening of a new crematorium somewhere in Maharagama. The Sinhala word for crematorium is Aadaahanaagaaraya, literally a place where something (in this case a corpse) is burnt. Irvin, lightened up what could have been quite a somber moment by suggesting that the crematorium should be called anithyaagaaraya or a place that symbolises anithya or impermanence.
That, now, could be the title of a poem, a poetry collection, a short story or even a novel. Indeed, it is a one-word poem.
Irvin Weerackody, even his detractors would grudgingly concede, helped shape advertising in Sri Lanka. His mark is visible all over the broader field of communications, although few would acknowledge this. He’s a brand in and of itself.
He’s an icon, clearly. The title of a recent article published in a website captures Irvin perfectly: ‘Irvin hithanatharamkaluth nae suduth nae (Irvin is neither as black or as white as one may believe).’ Those who have worked with or under him, his clients and the competition would no doubt have reacted with a smile to this claim.
I still remember the first conversation I had with him. Jayanath Bodahandi, a long time employee at Phoenix O&M had informed Irvin about something I had written to counter a campaign designed by the agency, the ‘Regaining Sri Lanka’ project of the UNP Government of the time. Irvin wanted to meet me. I dodged for a few months and finally agreed.
He knew I wouldn’t work full time in advertising. He knew I wouldn’t work on certain accounts. He said, ‘I’ll give you a retainer.’ I said there could be months when I don’t do any work and therefore I cannot accept payment. ‘Then I’ll pay you for what you do,’ he always had an answer.
That was in 2004. Since then, whenever I was dismissed by employers or I dismissed companies, I would just walk into No 16 Barnes Place and return to being a part time copywriter; but Irvin paid me a monthly salary and never asked me to work on anything I was not interested in.
He once laughed and said, ’this is your most permanent job!’
Irvin’s biography ought to be written, but it’s all there already, in bits and pieces all over the advertising industry and not just the creative work he did or supervised. For me, to put it simply, ‘Irvin’ is a poem, just like dhoomalaavanyaagaaraya and anithyaagaaraya, only it is less elaborate, just two-syllables!
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