He wouldn’t go to fight. He talked with people in a calm way. But he was an expert fighter. He even knew martial arts.

One day some troublemaker came here and started making a scene. My grandfather was sitting at the counter with a towel around his waist and a cigar in his mouth, just reading his magazine. My grandfather told the man to go and take a bath, in Sinhala. The man got rowdier. Then my grandfather walked over and hit him. Just two blows. My grandfather then went casually back to his seat and started reading again. After a while my grandfather rubbed some sesame oil and kicked the man twice. Then he was fine. The man started telling everyone, “this old man is a dangerous fellow” and ran away.

One day during practice fight I asked him to teach me that move. He told me that he would. By he never did.