In life we meet many people, most of whom hardly leave a trace of their passing. Some, very few in fact, leave a mark so deep that no passage of time can erase it. For me, at the very top of that list is Rajiv Perera.

I knew of Rajiv at S. Thomas’ College, Mount Lavinia – where he was a few years senior to me. A fine sportsman, he played rugby for S. Thomas’, CH and FC and Sri Lanka. On the field he was fearless yet always a gentleman, respected by teammates and opponents alike. That same spirit carried into the rest of his life competitive when it mattered, but always fair, always gracious.

But I only really got to know him when I went to the UK for my higher studies, about 35 years ago. This was around the time that John Major had replaced the Iron Lady, Margret Thatcher, and was just settling in as Prime Minister. I knew only a very few people in London. It was through the Thomian network that I met Rajiv and we clicked immediately.

The UK Old Boys’ Association always looked after students who had just arrived in Britain. But Rajiv went far beyond that. He quickly became my closest pal and my closest asset in London. I must confess that I sometimes took his friendship for granted. He never complained, never made me feel a burden. He simply gave with a loyalty that cannot be put into words.

I was living in the university halls of residence, yet Rajiv would drive more than one and a half hours just to take me for a haircut. If I craved a Sri Lankan meal, he would pick me up, take me home and cook a spread that no one could match. He could cook almost anything, always tasty, always fast, and always better than anyone else. I would never have survived my university years without him.

In those days, Old Thomians gathered often, and a meal at Rajiv’s was almost compulsory. Krishan Perera, Roshan Perera, Johann Wijesinghe, who is sadly no longer with us, Mahendra Iddamalgoda, Milinda Gunawardane, and Gamini Gunawardane whom we called ‘Chucker’, and who is also more with us, were regulars. And it wasn’t just Thomians. DIL Wijemanne, Aravinda de Silva, Rajind Ranatunga, Priyantha Ekanayaka, Rohan Abeykoon, Dharshana Wathudura who later became Rajiv’s brother-in-law, Shantha Jayasekara and Nigel Issac often joined in too. Later Thomian Prasad Wimalasekara became a frequent visitor as well.

Rugby also brought us together. The Old Thomian team used to practice at Northwick Park, with Rohan Karunaratne, another who is unfortunately no longer with us, as a coach. Rajiv played a key role in all this, not just as a former player himself, but as the man who bound everyone together. Some days, after rugger practice, the natural next stop was Rajiv’s place, where food, laughter, and insults were in abundance.

Those nights at Rajiv’s house were unforgettable. It was the stage for endless banter. Nobody was spared, and the teasing flew as freely as the food and drinks. We laughed until our stomachs hurt, and if you went home without being embarrassed, you knew you hadn’t really been part of the evening. Rajiv himself rarely drank, and then only for company, but he was always at the centre of it, cooking, serving, laughing, and making sure everyone left happier than when they arrived.

Rajiv became, for thousands of Sri Lankans, the first port of call in London. He did the pick-ups and drop-offs from Heathrow, drove people around, fed them, and often even sent them away with gifts. Many of us, when a friend travelled to London, would simply call Rajiv knowing he would step in, without reservation, to provide a meal, a lift or simply company.

Rajiv’s biggest weakness, if one can call it that, is his inability to say ‘no’ even to those who offered little or nothing in return. He helped those who deserved it, and even those who did not. It is a reflection of his kindness and generosity of spirit.

By that measure, Rajiv you are a rich man, richer than most. In my book, and in those of so many others who you helped, inspired and stood by every day of your life, you are our true legend. Happy birthday my dear brother.