Almost eight decades ago a young man from a well-to-do and prominent Anglican family in Moratuwa, considering and then dismissing both the priesthood and higher education as post-school options, decided to become a planter. It was a time when the British ruled the roost and nowhere in then Ceylon was the heavy imprint of the colonial jackboot more evident, than in the plantation enclave. It was a bold decision for a young man in his late teens and, thereby, hangs an interesting tale.
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