"A quiet presence" - Dr. Jacques Christian Soulié Memorial Gathering

The first anniversary of the passing of Dr. Jacques Christian Soulié was marked on 25 July 2026 in the presence of the Venerable Rathanasiri Thero of the Alapalawala temple; of the two guests of honour, His Excellency Monsieur Rémi Lambert, Ambassador of France to Sri Lanka and the Maldives, and Mr Chandra Wickramasinghe, founder of Connaissance de Ceylan and the Thema Collection; and of Jacques's long-standing friends and colleagues from the Alliance française network and the universities.

The evening brought together the inauguration of the new Jacques Soulié Stage, the premiere of Handunagaththoth Oba Ma, a play by Dhanuka Bandara and Parallel Stage, the launch of the book Suriyakantha: an Art of Living in the Tropics, published with the support of the Thema Collection, the screening of the documentary Jacques Soulié — In Memoriam, and a musical programme performed by Dhanuka Bandara and Parallel Stage.

These are excerpts from the welcome speech delivered by Janaka Samarakoon.

Good evening,

We are all gathered here-today to celebrate the life of our friend, our teacher, our mentor, our founder — Jacques Christian Soulié.

He was born on the 12th of September 1939, in Montauban. He died on the 5th of July last year — here, in this very place, the home he had chosen.

A year has passed since we had to learn to live without you, Jacques. And this year has been very different from the ones before.

You gave us the very best of the French language. You gave us lessons in psychology. You gave us the beauty of the visual arts, of literature, of music. And you gave us eyes to see the ungraspable beauty of this world.

It was disconcerting at first, then touching, to see how a butterfly darting past, a kitten with its insistent mewing, the fleeting beauty of a wildflower, or the smallest, most unremarkable little bird… any of this could hold you spellbound. 

You seemed to see, in all of it, a sign of the divine. 

A coconut palm — leaning dangerously towards the roof of your house; the great branch of a mango tree spreading across the sky above Suriyakantha — these were never threats to you. They were signs of a tropical abundance that was not ours to tame.

I remember how, once, your right-hand man, Prasanna, had to threaten to resign before you would let him cut the branch of your beloved mango tree that was putting your safety at risk.

Another time, you agreed to bear the cost of a second water tank on the roof, should a coconut ever fall and burst the first tank, rather than have the offending palm — that majestic coconut tree — cut down as a precaution.

And I have to admit: when we look at that coconut tree today, spared by you and splendid, we understand why you fought for it. 

And the mango tree — missing its left arm now — is a sorry sight indeed. 

You were often right, Jacques. We usually understood it only afterwards.

And your birds, your trees — of this I am certain — remember you. From their high vantage points, they must be looking for you still.

This evening is for you, Jacques. And it is for us. For all the lessons we learned. For all the happiness we shared.

Photos © Upright Media