The Deputy and the Skinhead
In 1997, the school’s Principal resigned unexpectedly. Unexpectedly, the reigns of the school fell in the hands of the Lanky and Tall Deputy whom we all feared with respect. L.T. Deputy was by then a seasoned campaigner. He had joined school in the late-1970s and grown firm as a part of Kingswood’s own vegetation.
L.T’s initials were well earned. He was the lankiest and tallest thing in the 11 acre Kingswood premises. With his family, he lived in a humble abode to the interior of the school. L.T spoke very little, and never seemed to be excited or hurried. Him walking down the long steps that led from the Hostel-side passing the college bell to the school’s office complex was a familiar sight every morning between 7.00 and 7.10. L.T always wore black or dark brown lanky trousers, a long-sleeved white shirt with almost-invisible stripes. When he lost his temper (as a School Deputy must) his outreach was quick, menacing, and made the sound of whip cracks heard in the Maligawa Perahera. The composure would be lost only for a moment. The next moment, it would be restored – the inscrutable, unexcitable, eagle-like exterior of L.T.
And now, when the Principal resigned, L.T was in charge. Leading Kingswood in the mid-90s must have come with its own set of pressures. For one, everyone knew Kingswood – the school Blaze bore, the Methodist Mission carried as its burden, which was taken over by the state in 1958 – lost its gloss somewhat in the 1970s and the early-80s. This was not Kingswood’s fate alone, but that of many old private schools that were transferred to the government system in the nationalization rush. For Kingswood, the 1980s were years of resurrection. In 1985, a man who took it on himself to restore the school with a view of its ancient heritage was appointed as Principal. In later years, some sentimental souls even called this Kandy-born, Anthonian-educated, UK-qualified man a Second Blaze. From 1989 to 1997, until his untimely resignation, it was this gentleman’s legacy the Principal with the brush-mustache took forward.
And now, the L.T. Deputy was entrusted with the smooth operation of holding the fort together until a suitable successor came along.
One morning, the First XI was about to leave for an important fixture. For sports teams leaving, it was customary to gather near the Main Hall or the gate and to meet the Principal who – as was the age old practice – sent them off with a word that suited such occasions. When L.T.D came to speak to the team he noticed that an important player had shaved his head in an unbecoming manner. This player, to L.T.D’s displeasure, had turned into a skinhead.
L.T.D pulled the player up and raised issue about his skinhead. In no uncertain terms, the Deputy made his anger and disappointment shown. He revoked permission for the team to go with the player, turned around and walked back to his office room.
Unlike in the case of hair too long (which could be cut to the right size at the nearby Mulgampola barber salon), a skinhead couldn’t plant the missing grass on his turf. Perplexed, everyone looked on. Packed with gear, the team’s bags lay on the side.
