Good Morning, my name is Andrew and I was Chris’ second son.
Many of you know, my father went by many names — Christo, Ponna, Uncle Ponns, Thambi Mama, Dad, and more recently, Appappa. Each name carried a different relationship, a different story, and a different version of the man we all loved.
Over the last few days, many of you may have seen the article circulating about Dad’s life — a beautiful piece that captures his achievements and the incredible things he accomplished. If you haven’t seen it, I’m sure someone sitting near you can pass it along.
So today, I won’t repeat what’s already been written. Instead, I want to share the man as I knew him — not just inside our home, but out in the world.
I couldn’t have asked for a better father.
He grew up deeply spiritual, rooted in the church, and shaped by losing his mother at a young age. And yes, he was also deeply stubborn — a man who ultimately did what he wanted to do. There were always two sides to him: the gentle, spiritual soul and the immovable force of nature. My brother Eshan will speak about what he was like as a father to us, but I want to talk about the man he was beyond our four walls.
In his family, Dad stood physically taller than everyone — sometimes by half a foot or more. I’ve always believed that was because he had the biggest heart of them all. He had so much love to give that he needed the extra height just to carry it around.
His love languages was inquiry and service.
If he was asking you questions that were bordering on too personal, it meant he cared deeply. That was his way of saying, “You matter to me.”
He was a Christian in the best sense of the word — someone who lived to serve, to help, to lift others up. Community wasn’t just important to him; it was part of his identity. He loved going to church, he loved helping people in need — through the Lions Club, the Jeshuran Healing Centre for refugees, or simply anyone who crossed his path.
He was a great father to us, but he was also a father to so many others.
He was the communal dad — the one you could rely on when life got complicated. Whether you were a nephew or niece growing up without a father, or your own father refused to take you to church, Dad stepped in. If you needed help solving a problem, getting out of a legal bind, or finding a path to a better education overseas, he was there. Sometimes that meant letting you live rent free in a room above his restaurant. Sometimes it meant helping you get your citizenship or your pension. There was nothing he wouldn’t try to do for someone who needed him.
He was always pushing the younger generation to better themselves — offering advice during a cricket game, giving someone their first job at his restaurant, or guiding young couples whose families didn’t approve of their marriage. He believed in people, often more than they believed in themselves.
Dad and I used to talk about how neither of us ever felt particularly “lucky.” We always felt we had to create our own luck. But in death, Dad finally lucked out — he got exactly what he wanted, without having to work for it. And I take comfort in that.
There are countless lessons I’ve learned from him — from being his son and from simply observing the man he was. No amount of words could ever do justice to his contribution to the world.
He taught me how to be a man.
Most importantly, he taught me how to be resilient.
And showing resilience after his death has been the ultimate test of that lesson.
One of the greatest measures of a man is the children he raises. I think Dad did an excellent job with my brother and me — but he did so much more than that. He raised a community. He shaped lives. He left a legacy far bigger than any one of us.
I hope we can carry even a fraction of that forward.
I love you, Dad.
And I will miss you greatly.
— Andrew Ponnadurai, Second son to Christo
Good afternoon, My name is Jennifer and I’d like to share my experiences and memories of my Uncle Christo as one of his 7 nieces and nephews. Over the years, I have come to know my uncle better - as best as one can living in the US while he was here in Australia. Most recently, I was able to spend a good amount of time with him in Sri Lanka when a few of the siblings traveled to celebrate my mother’s birthday. On that trip, observing my uncle with now adult eyes, I realized a few things.
First my uncle took his family very seriously and treated them as a thing to protect, provide for and honor. My mother often tells the story of how when she was teenage girl having to walk to school, she was required to take her Thambi, my uncle Christo, who would have been single digits at the time, possibly 6 yrs old. She needed to have a male family member accompany her on the street and she always thought it was funny and silly that a boy so small was sent to protect her on her walk. Having grown to know my uncle over the years I now believe he probably took that role and responsibility seriously, even then.
The way my uncle interacted with his family and siblings, it could be easy to mistake him as the eldest brother (and this is not just because he was inexplicably taller than all of his siblings). He checked on all his siblings and never expected others to do the same to him, even though he was the youngest. Uncle Christo fiercely protected and cared for his younger sister, my Aunty Selvi no matter what she or her family needed - while in Sri Lanka and also while living in Australia. If an older brother’s main role is to look after his younger sister, Uncle Christo would win the Oscar for his work. My Aunty Selvi stated he was “God’s gift to our family” and I think this is true.
The Second thing I see so clearly now, my uncle had a big loving heart and cared deeply for others - but he did not wear this on his sleeve. One of the funniest things to me about my uncle is how he could be laughing and smiling with people right before a photo was to be taken but as soon as the person did a countdown for the photo, he would cut all smiles and give a look so serious you would think he was posing for GQ magazine. You might never hear my uncle gush over how much he cared for you, he instead showed it in his actions or in the curiosity he had about your life. I viewed my uncle as a man who wasn’t a big fan of small talk - he would rather watch others enjoying themselves and then insert stories and insights about his life when the time was appropriate. I have learned about my grandfather, uncle Christo’s own childhood or even his beliefs about people and the world only because her felt there was a fitting moment to share, not necessarily because I asked.
My Uncle’s home was always open to family visits, allowing my mother and I to spend weeks at a time in his home over the holidays among many others who would stop in. Not only was this in line with his love for family, but it fit with his big heart. For example, he allowed my cousins and I to stay up late into the early hours of the mornings talking and bonding and laughing and snacking. And if he had to go to work during some of those days, he did not let this be known. I choose to believe he valued the importance of allowing cousins who live oceans apart to have the opportunity to maximize the time they had. He just wanted his family to be together. While we were in Jaffna, my uncle became a sort of default tour guide for his sisters and created many an experience for us to enjoy – like dinners at Jetwing Jaffna with dishes hand chosen by him that he knew others loved or needed to try, or haggling for mangosteen on the side of the road for me since he knew I loved them so much.
Even with his big heart, my uncle did not allow himself to be caught being silly. He had to keep the swag intact. He was so aware of this rule that as a teenager when I tried to take a video of him in a rare silly moment while cleaning the pool, he continued his funny impersonation for the benefit of me filming and then said, “And I know you’re filming thank you very much.” This made us cousins die with laughter even more, and I could see a twinkle in his eye because he was happy to have entertained us in that way.
The final thing I’ll share that I’ve learned is that my Uncle’s belief in God was strong and motivated all that he did. He knew how to enjoy a party with with family and friends, but he also knew how to pray fervently over anyone who needed it. He had a personal relationship with God that allowed him to feel at peace with the things God put on his heart to do. Even returning to Jaffna later in his career held a sacred purpose for him. While many of us in the family of course feel he was taken from us too soon, we also must acknowledge, as my uncle did, that his time on this earth was not up to us to control and that we must also make peace with the truth that only God knew how long he would be with us.
My uncle’s memory will be carried on by family here in Australia, in Canada, in the UK and also in America. I know I will do my best to carry on lessons I feel he had for us all and I hope you all will too: Show your love for your family in your actions, protect those you love as best you can, find a way to help others succeed against all odds, and give back in a way that will impact generations to come.
— Jennifer Noble, Niece to Christo
Hello everyone - my name’s Eshan Ponnadurai, I’m Christopher Ponnadurai’s oldest son.
I’ve seen my dad speak in these moments over the years - and he always attempted to lighten people up, make them laugh - as awkward as it was, mostly because my father told horrible jokes. I know if he was here today, he’d tell us all not to be sad, to have hope and he’d probably say “I’m good, why are you worried??. So I’ll do my best to honor him and hopefully make us smile or laugh a little. So this will be me, doing my best version of dad, to honor the person I loved the most in this world.
My dad and I had a special relationship, he was my best mate - I’d like to think I knew him better than anyone. On the outside, there is nothing much that would stand out too much about my dad - he’s a tall thin Sri Lanka guy, with a crooked smile, grey hair, his little giggle, he seemed to be always rubbing his nose, he still got confused by curtains words in English (intimate and intimate or he says intimate - you can imagine some of the confusion this lead to) never cared too much about the clothes he wore, worked in the public service…..one could describe it as rather ‘unremarkable’…
But then over the last week - we’ve received so many messages from so many people, from here in Australia and Sri Lanka. More than anyone, I thought I knew the impact my dad left in this world, but even I am astounded by how many people dad has helped, the positive impact he has had on so many, the stories of his life and his accomplishments
It dawned on me my dad was perhaps the most unremarkable man, that accomplished the most REMARKABLE things
Dad managed to accomplish more in one lifetime than many of us would in multiple - when I think about the ingredients of dad that defined this life of his, it was his commitment to hard work, his courage, his resiliency and maybe above all else and incredibly sense of foresight and vision to look well into the future and order his steps - now those steps may not have been sequential or logical but they made sense to him…
My brother - has shared today stories of dad’s impact to others, I wanted to share some stories about him, that you maybe never heard (Dad wasn’t one to talk about himself and his achievements) that captured his little eccentricities, the funny little things he did that made him so endearing, but highlight how my Dad always had a plan and vision and it always seemed to work out…
Now i’m intentionally give my old man some crap - if not, i’ll be a blubbering mess
For most of my childhood, Dad (and Mum) worked 2nd or 3rd jobs - everything from cleaning toilets, to working at gas stations, if there was an extra buck to be made or an hour of overtime to be worked my dad would be there. Sometimes my dad’s endeavour to make an extra dollar led to pure comedy (like dad umpiring cricket games on the weekend - and only realizing after a few seasons, he needed glasses…i feel for all the batsmen..).
As a child this at times was a cause of shame for me, I made the incorrect assumption that we were poor and my dad was doing these jobs just so we could ‘get by’. But no, I was wrong my dad had a master plan - one year dad began cleaning movies cinemas on sunday mornings, he was doing this to save up for a family trip back to Sri Lanka, these were large cinemas and my dad realized he had to clean them quickly so he could get to church on time - so he needed help, he just didn't want to pay for it :) so naturally my brother and I became targets.
Dad built in an amazing incentive structure - he told us that people often lose loose change under chairs or if we are lucky some people even drop notes - this was music to our ears “we can find money” we were sold and Dad had found his cheap labor! For the next few months we woke up at 7am every sunday and went to clean cinemas with dad before church - for my brother and I this was one of our fondest memories of our childhood, we’d both sit their together counting the coins we found “dude I found 3 dollars” (was a lot in the 80’s). Dad in his wisdom found a way to show us the joy and reward of hard work. To be honest, Andy and I also robbed the snack bar regularly - Dad saw us do it, pretended not to see, then when Mum called him out on it - he threw us both under the bus!! This was Dad, the bugger was like a teflon, somehow nothing stuck
This continued for a long time with dad working additional jobs, I remember once he even took extra work at the ATO auditing tobacco plantations! It was all part of dads’ plan, what we all didn't know was that Dad had set himself an aggressive path to financial freedom - we couldn’t see it at the time but he was a few steps ahead of us all as usual.
Fast forward and I’m now in my 20’s - thinking about what I want for my life, I’d somehow come to the conclusion that I wanted a career in marketing and that it was time for me to go overseas, to become more independent and grow. I’d progressed with my interviews and it was the night before my final interview. There was just one problem - this last interview was to take place at home and didn’t Dad know - funnily dad not knowing wasn’t our biggest issue, the biggest issue was that the interview would take place during my father’s grand morning ‘get ready with me’ routines - to give you a better visual of this, imagine a baby elephant was trying use your bathroom. Naturally Mum and I were worried I might fail this interview, not because of me, but because of how much noise and disruption Dad might create.
So the night before, I broke the news to dad with Mum by my side - he listened intently, grunted a few times as I explained the career I wanted and that if it worked out I would be leaving home and Australia. Honestly I was scared about how he might respond, at that time in his eyes I had a good job and career ahead of me and there was no plans for me to leave home let alone Australia. After hearing me, he got up in silence and went to his room - mum and I looking at each other like “shit was it that bad??” It would have been better if he yelled at us!! I realized Dad had gone to pray and talk to God, he came back 30 mins later and sat me down and said these words “God wants this for you, this Job is going to happen and you are going to leave. I can’t promise I’ll be quite tmr though”. When things were complicated or got tough Dad got on his knees and talked to God, it’s practice he left us with.
So I got the job as dad had predicted - but that was just the beginning of our ‘problems’ - you see I was an incredibly troubled teen and to say the least a wayward young man. I gave my parents a ton of angst growing up and it all culminated or rather caught up with me in this moment…you see to finalize this job and my employment and work eligibility IN A WHOLE NEW COUNTRY by a very specific timeline you needed a few things to qualify you…namely a university degree…which oh btw I did not have along with many other qualifications, I’d hustled my way into this dream job but now faced with an insurmountable task of legitimizing my hustle. So I went to the only person I could and that was Dad, and had to spill the beans on everything - the mistakes I’d made, the chances I took and some of the corners I’d cut to get t this moment. Again my Dad returned to pray in his room and I remember I overhead him saying later that night to mum “where did he learn all of this?”….he had a right to be disappointed and ashamed.
The next morning came and Dad sat me down and began to explain to me his master plan of me finalizing this job offer and getting me to Singapore. I won't go over the details but it was the moment I realized that despite my youthful arrogance of thinking I was smarter and sharper than my elders - when all this time I was actually in the presence of the ultimate hustler, this was dad’s Neo in the matrix moment/magnus opus/??... I was in the presence of a Jedi and I was his young padwan. Dad developed an elaborate plan that would require me to keep working full time in my current job, all while studying full time to complete my degree all while telling multiple white stories to various different government bodies and educational institutions to keep the dream alive…I was ready to give up, I assumed Dad would too….but instead this sprung him to life and reinforced his belief in me “you really can talk your way into anything huh?” Over the course of 3 months Dad and I walked this high wire act together, I got the degree, I got the work permit and I got to Singapore. Dad knew this was the ultimate teaching moment for me - it was the moment he could instill values he’d been trying for so long for me to embrace - the value of working hard (I’d never taken studying seriously), of being resilient (to not be discouraged by my past failures) and having courage (to go start a life and new career in a country where I knew nobody.)…Dad and I together were successful in what might have been our ultimate mission together..it all came true.
In case you are wondering…I still have a recurring nightmare that I failed my last subject. Dad told me that was God’s way of reminding me “never do this to your parents’…
So now a few years go by - I've grown up a little, finished school and got a job - so naturally like all good Sri Lankan Children what should I do next??? Exactly, my parents had now turned their attention to me getting Married as all Sri Lankan parents do and as all good Sri Lankan boys of my generation - I rejected this outrightly, mostly just to annoy them both!
Mum and Dad had gone down the tried and true Sri Lankan parenting path of what I called “creating progress via guilt” they attempted this strategy for a number of years and the harder they tried, the harder I dug in…so my dad, again in his infinite quirky and unconventional wisdom decided he was gonna change it up, instead of convincing me, he was going to straight the source (aka my girlfriend at the time and now wife) and either convince her or develop a strategy with her.
Dad thought the best time to deploy this strategy would be at my brothers wedding weekend, the first ever family event I had brought my girlfriend too - thankfully there is video footage to prove it. One fine night Dad decides to let Jacky know that his son (me) lacks any courage and conviction (really great way to sell your son to his future wife btw) and will look for reasons to never get married AND THAT THE BEST WAY TO SOLVE THIS is to actually leave me… (think about that for second) yes my wife and by dad made a literal pact that night, that if 12 months time I had not made my intentions clear she (with freaking dad’s blessing) was going to leave me..
Naturally in finding this out, you can imagine my reaction, I was mad - but I got outplayed (again) Dad knew me too well, this is the reaction dad wanted out of me…he knew that this blood pact would only motivate my intense competitive nature “NO LET ME SHOW YOU” - he got his way and less than 12 months later I’d proposed to Jacky. Dad again playing 3D chess, the rest of us playing 2d checkers…and always Dad got exactly what he wanted.
At the age of 64 Dad decided to go full circle and return to Sri Lanka and more importantly Jaffna, which is a spiritual and literal home to many of us. He began this journey literally the day after my wedding, as I walked down the aisle his first words to me were “you are on your own now” he then looked at Jacky and said “no refunds”…while we brushed if off as Dad being Dad - there was some powerful truth to what he was saying. For 30 years he had put his dreams on hold, fleeing with his family to Australia, setting us all up for success but it was finally his time to come full circle and go chase the dream that was taken from him prematurely.
Now that all sounds poetic, but we all thought he was crazy - in fact I think my brother, Dad’s friends and I took bets on how long he would last… Dad heard it all, that we all questioned him, thought he was doing the wrong thing - but once again he was many steps ahead of us..he didnt go back to ‘work’ he went back to build something much bigger,
Dad’s early years both in Sri Lanka and Australia were difficult, a literal furnace of trials - the man watched his home burn to the ground and then came to a country where he was cleaning toilets, he was overlooked when he was often the most qualified - he had reasons to be bitter but it never consumed him, instead it refined him. He knew there were many others suffering just like he had in the North of Sri Lanka, Tamil men and women just like him and mum. He returned to offer them all the same grace and opportunity God had given him. An early life born through struggle and fire - turned into sanctuary and growth for hundreds of young people in Jaffna, who found careers and lives through Dad.
I think it weren’t for COVID impacting the tourist industry, Dad would still be there in Jaffna - he showed us that a new life can begin at any age, that reinvention and change is not just for the young and that our own pain and suffering can refine us and offer something beautiful for others.
A friend of Dad’s recently published an article on Dad’s impact in Jaffna, specifically while sitting at the bar of the Hotel Dad was running commented on the quality of the staff, many of whom had lived through a brutal civil war and this was their first professional employment. When he congratulated Dad on his staff he said it is down to training, his specific quote “You get a raw thing and keep polishing, it will get shiny”. He saw the raw potential in the overlooked, he likely saw himself in them, and spent his time polishing them until they shone with confidence.
This is also true of how he treated all of us - he saw the potential in all of us, and in many ways he “everyone’s dad” - everyone was always welcome in our home, he’d take you out on the back porch, have a beer with you and then ask you 25 questions about your plans for your life and then begin giving you advice that sometimes you never asked for.
This was also true of me - I was maybe he’s first raw object, dad saw the potential in me when i didnt see it, he never stopped trying to polish me - it’s been the single driving force in my life and because of him I’ve lived a life beyond my own wildest imagination.
We all have raw objects in our life - my encouragement to you is invest in shining them, it’s what Dad would have done.
Now I can’t get this far talking about Dad and not about my mum :)....Momma i dont know you put up with him!!
Dad’s method to say the least was unconventional and not for everyone. It takes a special kind of person to deal with all that and love someone for it - and that was my mum. When dad was working multiple jobs on weekends, Mum had to look after us, it forced her to be really independent, she had to do many things without Dad - while many may not have, mum always supported dad and his choices, she didn’t understand them but always had inherent trust in Dad. Mum poured love, strength and joy into our home and childhood’s…Mum - my dad’s remarkable life, was mum’s too.
I’ll miss my dad
He was a legend
I'll miss him in the big things but mostly the small things:
I’ll miss the phone calls that always begin the same way “opppedi thamby…what time is it?” 21 years overseas and Dad never worked out what time I was in.
Ill miss when I come home him saying “Ranjo, Mappelai Vandathan”
I’ll miss him when Sri Lanka win the cricket..
I’ll miss him when my children get a good test score just to hear him say “see they must have got my brain.::
l’ll just really miss him
I leave you with one last story….
Now I’ve told you about the endeavors Dad and I undertook to get me on a path to my dream job at the time, which was overseas…well the day has come for me to finally leave for SG and we’re now at the gates and its time to say goodbye
Dad hugs me and say these words that have never left me, he lifted up his hand almost like a victory signal and said -“If you never come home, it means you really did well” Here I was, thinking I would be going on a small adventure maybe 1-2 years…Once again Dad knew better, that this was the beginning of something much bigger and he was many steps ahead of me..
…and I never came home
Fast forward 21 years and now Dad has left me and us…I know where he is, he has gone home and it’s because he too did so well…in this life that he was given, he loved God, loved others and was a faithful man
Thank you all for loving my family, for loving my dad and my mum
God Bless you all.
— Eshan Ponnadurai, First son to Christo
