The title of a tragic novel that might never get written
The families of failed revolutionaries (or terrorists,
extremists and insurgents if you prefer that nomenclature) tend to be a far cry
from beds of roses, especially if the particular individual has perished in
battle. The near and dear of those who
are successful in capturing power are talked about. Others fade away and become less and less
newsworthy.
In the aftermath of the LTTE military leadership being
vanquished, there was curiosity about Prabhakaran’s parents. For a while. Ironically (and thanks to painstaking efforts
to twist context for the purpose of myth-making and mythologizing) enduring
newsworthiness was obtained more from the dead, especially the terrorist leader’s
younger son’s dead body.
The families of other slain LTTE leaders, in particular S.P.
Thamilselvan and Sea Tiger chief Soosai, interestingly were accorded the
privilege of leaving the LTTE-held narrow neck of land without pain of
punishment (others were shot at in order to discourage). We know that the Sri Lankan Government takes
care of them, that they live in comfort and gratitude and that the children are
adequately insulated from the bloody history their fathers forged over several
decades. They attend good schools and go about sans stigma of any kind.
But what of the JVP leader’s family? Rohana Wijeweera was apprehended on November
12, 1989. He was at the time posing off as a planter, living in Kotmale using
the name ‘Attanayake’. He was shot dead
under suspicious circumstances a couple of days later. At the time, he had 5 children, four girls
and a boy who was the youngest. His wife Chitrangani was pregnant with his
sixth child.
Twenty four years have passed.
With the assassination of Wijeweera followed by the crushing of
insurrection, public attention shifted to other things. We’ve had three Presidents after the man who
presided over the decimation of the JVP was himself killed. We had 4 general
elections. A thirty year long war was ended.
A debilitating tsunami served to obliterate a lot of things, not just
landscapes. Chitrangani and her children
were naturally forgotten.
The news since 1989 was sketchy. It was reported that the
family, spurned by their own relatives, were forced to seek shelter with the
Army and later the Navy. They lived in
relative obscurity in Trincomalee. The children did reasonably well in school
and passed their exams. They were moved
to better schools in Colombo. A surprise
visit by Mahinda Rajapaksa when he was Minister of Fisheries had resulted, it
is said, in the family being moved to the Navy facility in Welisara.
A few years ago Wijeweera’s family stirred public interest
again; this was on the occasion of the second daughter getting married. The newsworthiness came from the fact that
leaders of the breakaway group led by Wimal Weerawansa arriving at the
function, upon invitation of course. The
party had done what they could for the family, apparently, supporting
Chitrangani and the children financially and helping them organize the
wedding. Tempers naturally were
frayed. That’s news. Wijeweera’s family, however, were incidental
to the story. Happened. Faded away.
And then, just the other day, they made news again. The eldest daughter was arrested by the
Police following a complaint made by Chitrangani. The girl, now 32, unmarried, apparently got
into an argument with her brother and assaulted him as well as her mother who
had tried to intervene.
That day of assault, however, was not random. This girl, Eesha, probably the only one in
the family who was fully cognizant of the tragedy that befell them in November
1989, is said to have been as or more intelligent and studious as her
siblings. There was a difference,
however. She was wont to stare into
space, to try count the stars in the night sky and spend long hours outside
their ‘quarters’ in the Trincomalee Naval Base in complete silence. According to her mother, Eesha was a
‘difficult’ child, given to long bouts of brooding and ever ready to pick a
fight with her siblings. She would lash
out with tongue and fist, we are made to understand. On one occasion she had swallowed a fistful
of pills that was part of her mother’s medication. That would count as a suicide attempt. She
had to be flown to Colombo for treatment after she lost consciousness.
Then this.
There is of course only so much that anyone can do, the
State included. The party has done what it could. The Government has intervened. Apart from Eesha, the other children have grown
up, educated themselves and are leading normal lives. A lot to be thankful for, one might say,
given circumstances. And then again
there would be many who would find no reason to pity or be generous,
considering all the children orphaned, all the families torn apart and all the
lives laid waste by the acts of their father.
Just as the terrible tragedy of a 12 year old boy called Balachandran
being shot dead is ‘dismissed’ by referring to the crimes his father is guilty
of.
Children, however, are not to be blamed. We do not know if this girl’s condition was
wrought by ordeals she had to contend with at a tender age or if it was due to
something totally unconnected to that tragic turn of events. All we know is that Wijeweera is dead. The girl had no father figure in her growing
up years. As unfortunate as any other
fatherless girl. As deserving of
attention. Not because who she is but in
spite of who she is.
Bottom line. She
didn’t get closure. Her father bears
responsibility. We do too.
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