When I saw him for the first time in my life about three months ago, though terminally ill, he was lying peacefully and cheerfully in bed at home. He sensed and so did I that very soon he would be embarking upon the journey to "the undiscovered land from whose bourn/no traveler returns" as Hamlet mused when agonizing whether "to be or not to be". So during the past few weeks the imminence of his final exit was constantly on my mind. Even so, while reading The Sunday Island of 14 September when I came to page 15 and saw the full-page announcement of his death, I was deeply saddened. I am puzzled to say why this should be so. After all, from time to time during the past three decades, nobody else debating with me had used against me to such devastating effect the rapier thrust of their verbal dexterity. When I argued with him I felt that I took my life in my hands. His mastery of the rules governing standard English grammar and usage, his sense of word and nuance of meaning were unsurpassed by any other person with whom I have debated. Editor Manik de Silva was precisely on target when he judged that V. P. Vittachi was "a perfectionist in the use of the English language".

Debating with him was awesome. He rejoiced in the role of eternal critic. He took great pains never to declare what his political philosophy was and never to disclose which political party he favored. Moreover, at various times he wrote under at least three names: Dr. Costain de Vos, Vijaya Perera and V. P. Vittachi. By these strategies he usurped the power to criticize everybody and immunized himself from being criticized by anybody. He was often sardonic and his occasional flashes of malicious wit really hurt those who were at the receiving end.

I imagine that he was a bit like the redoubtable Lord Reith, the first Director General of the BBC in the first half of the 20th century. In his memoirs John Kenneth Galbraith, the renowned Harvard Economist has recounted the story of an evening he had once spent with Lord Reith and Sir Hugh Foot, the then Governor of Jamaica. Galbraith says that Lord Reith denounced socialism during the first part of the evening and capitalism during the second part. "What system does he favor?" Galbraith had asked Sir Hugh as they were going off to bed. "Don’t you know? He wants the whole world run by the BBC", Sir Hugh had replied. I rather think that VPV fancied that this country could be run in the way he ran Stassen Exports Ltd with such spectacular success!

In his writings he marshaled his facts with utmost care. His concern with exactitude was relentless. His reasoning was difficult to fault. In debate he never failed to expose a misstatement of facts, a mistake in logic or an inconsistency in his opponents. He unfailingly zeroed in on imperfections of grammar, syntax or usage of his opponents. He focused pointed attention to these in a very superior way. I knew how shaky my grammar was; how limited my vocabulary; and how prone I was to resort to clichés and jargon. So I felt very vulnerable and intimidated by his debating technique and English style as opposed to the substance and cogency of his arguments. Then one day I happened to read an essay written by Somerset Maugham (who was himself a medic) and learnt that the four greatest writers the world has known, Tolsotoi, Balzac, Dostoevsky and Dickens had carelessly violated the rules of grammar of their respective languages. Dickens in particular had not bothered to write tolerable grammar. What the Dickens, I told myself at that point; why should I worry too much about the rules of grammar and syntax! After that I concentrated only on stating what I had to say as clearly as I was capable of doing. Clarity became my sole criterion of composition. I rationalized my literary defects by reminding myself that at university I had been taught only how to write prescriptions, not compositions. It was the cogency and coherency of my arguments that mattered, not their grammar. Thereafter I lost my fear of VPV’s formidable word power and grammatical rectitude. I took him head on whenever I disagreed with him. Usually, however, he had the triumphant last word. I compulsively read everything he wrote that came my way. His book titled Sri Lanka What Went Wrong? published in 1995 remains the most damning indictment of J.R. Jayewardene’s Free & Righteous Society I have ever read.

When – in Manik de Silva’s phrase – "the knowledgeable and thought – provoking column" he recently wrote under the byline Vijaya Perera for The Sunday Island ceased to appear abruptly, I wondered why. Then for the first time in my life I phoned him, identified myself and told him that I greatly missed the pieces by Vijaya Perera. In response, in a perfectly matter – of – fact tone of voice he said, "Carlo, I am dying". "So are we all, Sir" I gently riposted. "Yes, but I am dying at a faster rate than you are," he countered. "May I drop in sometime to see you" I asked. "Please do so" he replied. That is how and why I went to see him for the first time about three months ago. I spent about an hour with him. Knowing as he did that I remain a dyed - in - the - wool Samasamajist despite his best efforts to disillusion me, he made a final attempt at – there is no other word I know for it - fumigation. I realized that his case was not so much against samasamajism (socialism) as against one or two Samasamajists with whom he had had serious personality conflicts. In fairness to him I think he had been hard done by, and so far as he was concerned, loving one’s enemies was for saints. I listened to him mutely because I never argue with those who are ill. When I took my leave of him he asked me to come again.