Immediately afterwards there appeared in the Divaina an article penned by Harith
Gunawardena. It was titled ‘Manakal hada
vil thalaye ratata pipunu mala’ (A flower that bloomed upon the resplendent
waters of the heart-reservoir for the nation and the nation alone). It was a play on the unforgettable lines of
the theme song of a children’s program
aired by the then Radio Ceylon every
evening.
මනකල් හදවිල් තලයේ
පිපි නිවහල් මල්
රටට පිපෙන මල්
අපි වෙමු පුංචි කැකුළු මල්
පිපි නිවහල් මල්
රටට පිපෙන මල්
අපි වෙමු පුංචි කැකුළු මල්
The unfettered flowers that bloom upon the
waters of a heart-reservoir
(these) flowers,
tiny blooms all, bloom for the nation and the nation alone.
Sunil Sarath Perera, Harith remembered, was also the
person who wrote the lyrics to the Janaraja
Geethaya, especially composed to mark the true independence day, May 22,
1972, when this country became a republic.
Ironically, it was this very same man who was hoofed out by a government
led by the very same party the moment it returned to power. Double irony: he was replaced by an agent of
an organization hell-bent on dividing the country and which unleashed death and
destruction for several decades in trying to achieve that objective.
Twenty years have passed. Sunil Sarath Perera is one of
several lyricists marked for footnoting by the grandmasters of ‘Sinhala Music’
and in particular what could be called ‘The Sinhala Lyric’. But he remained, as Harith’s title asserts,
unfettered. Independent.
Insult seems to be a badge that the world insists he
wears. It happened again on Wednesday evening.
It happened at the launch of an album, ‘Sonduru voo minisa’ (‘The delightful man’), the latest collection
of songs by Pundit W.D. Amaradeva. It
happened at the Lakshman Kadirgamar Institute.
The collection was dubbed ‘Songs voiced for tomorrow’ (Hetata geyoo gee). Fittingly, the first song the audience got to
hear was Manakal hada vilthalaye. That’s the beginning and end of delight as
far as the show went, sad to say.
The announcer, Krishantha Dayananda, said that it was
selected as a tribute to the late lyricist Mahinda Algama who had passed on
just four days before. Many in the
audience were appalled. Some actually
informed the organizers to put the record straight. Sunil Sarath Perera, a man used to all kinds
of belittling may have wondered what kind of fate awaits his legacy when he is
thus butchered while alive and in his very presence.
Last week The
Nation wrote about Mahinda Algama.
It was a tribute too late. Algama
passed away a day before the article appeared in print. He was, like Sunil Sarath Perera, a self-effacing
personality; humble, unperturbed by praise or blame, ignored and
footnoted. The fact of death and the
publishing of a tribute that assumed life is enough to inform us all of the
importance of saying things that need to be said before it is too late to make
any sense.
Mahinda Algama died on February 15, 2014. He was murdered on February 19, 2014, along
with Sunil Sarath Perera. In the case of
Sunil Sarath Perera, we are in the ‘not too late’ universe and yet, last
Wednesday’s monumental insult makes us wonder if it were better to be late,
especially with insult. It hurts all of
us whose evening hours were marked by that song. It hurts again because the collection was
marketed as something for our tomorrow.
If this is our today and if this today is made of ignorance, forgetting
and deliberate lie, what of tomorrow?
Here’s the answer.
The song. The words. We can
forget organizer, announcer, critique, grandmasters of lyrical history and
worth. We will not forget the words. And
thus will Sunil Sarath Perera live on, long after his detractors are gone and
are, as they will be, shown up for being the malicious pedants they are.
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