'Mis-residencing' Lakdasa Wikkramasinha

In the early eighties there were two Sri Lankan poets whose work was included in the GCE A/L English Literature syllabus, Lakdasa Wikkramasinha and Patrick Fernando. In later years, for reason best known to those responsible, the two were dropped. The story doing the rounds was that there were enough ‘English’ poets (i.e. from England) whose work students needed to know about. These two were not the only published Sri Lankan poets writing in English of course, but for some reason they were the better known. Both wrote excellent poetry. Fernando’s poetry gave the impression that he worked hard in crafting. Poetry seemed to come easily to Lakdasa. I preferred Lakdasa.

I read Lakdasa in 1984. I had at the time decided to switch to the Arts stream from Mathematic. Ten months is a short time. I didn’t have a formal English Lit teacher, even though my mother was one. I read Death of a Salesman with her. My father explained the poets, especially Lakdasa. I remember being impressed by ‘Don’t talk to me about Matisse’ until my father took it apart, line by line, thought by thought. I finally agreed with him that Lakdasa was weak in ‘Matisse’, a bit out of control and perhaps bested by his own fascination with (or antipathy to) colonialism. Lakdasa was comfortable, after all, in doing a ‘Matisse’ with the underclass he wrote about.

I remember a young lecturer going into raptures about ‘Matisse’ in my first year at Peradeniya University. ‘It is THE anti-colonial poem!’ she was shrill in her praise. My personal favorite was ‘Nossa Senhora Dos Chingalas’. For lyrical finesse, emotional control, narrative ease, simplicity of metaphor, and for informed and astute political commentary this was Lakdasa at his best.

NOSSA SENHORA DOS CHINGALAS

Here there is no Christ; we see no Christ –
Christ, with a hair-knot against the strident
Green vegetation, standing; speaking
In the soul's dialect;
Christ, in a Jesuit's hood
Sweating under the flat sun's architecture –

Here there is only a family of crosses –
Of generations dead, and nothing alive;
Nothing. But larger that the dead dust,
Larger than any grave, figures – sweat and dust
In the quarries of laterite, toil.

Nothing: There is no Christ from eight to five o' clock;
Or perhaps only a Christ of fate –
The men cut brick out of the ground;
The women, take them on their heads
To the lorries of the construction yards
Waiting by the old gate –

And I have seen, in the eyes of these women
Burn no supernatural love; but still
Any one of them is our senhora
In the shadow of whose husked feet
The work may stop, the men recline.

Here, Lakdasa restored divinity to the human. Aparna Halpe, musician, academic, poet and friend, who found the poem for me (why I asked, I shall explain presently), wrote to me: ‘Found it. I suppose this is the kind of poem that some of our venerables at Pera find too feudal for their liking. God he's good. Every time I go into this project, I feel a mixture of elation and despair.’ The ‘project’ refers to putting together Lakdasa’s poems and have them all translated (she is working on it with Michael Ondaatje I believe). I received the email some time ago. When I dug it up a few minutes ago, I replied thus: ‘I think it was too revolutionary for them…not “too feudal”. I might have added, ‘perhaps they were too feudal’. I don’t know how the politics of pick and choose changed over the past several decades, so let me not speculate about relevant evolutions.

What is important is the nidana kathava or what made me write to Aparna. A few months ago, I went to the Borella Kanatte with a friend who wanted her late father’s name inscribed on the headstone of the burial plot of the family. It so happened that Lakdasa’s grave was right next to his. The legend on the gravestone stunned me.

Calm on the rock of age
Above the roar of the timultous sea
Came a voice
‘I am the resurrection and the life
Lead on O Lord!’

Lakdasa died at sea on March 18, 1978 (the gravestone confirms). The lines then are apt. The reference is to the Almighty and of course His voice (Isiah 26: 3-4, ‘The Lord is the rock eternal’). To me, the legend on this particular rock in the Borella Kanatte (more tangible though utterly nondescript in comparison), was one that rebelled against the sentiments expressed in ‘Nossa Senhora Dos Chingalas’, against Lakdasa’s general sympathy to the downtrodden and humble and his largely non-existent fascination with church, priest and indeed all things ecclesiastical.

It occurred to me (and I duly wrote observation to Aparna) that whoever drafted these lines for Lakdasa’s gravestone had returned the poet to ‘god’. I told her that I found it amusing, ironic and so sad.

Lakdasa was ‘laid to rest’. He was ‘urged’ as it were to follow the voice of the Lord. All in good faith, no doubt. And who can complain when after all ‘mortal remains’ remain with the near and dear and are disposed of according to their particular faith-tendencies? It was ironic that sentiments contained in what I considered to be the poem that defined Lakdasa had been flipped by the dear ‘near and dear’.

It was amusing because we don’t belong to ourselves once we die and are at the mercy of those who have to deal with ‘mortal remains’. I’ve seen the irreverent being religiously frilled in coffins and funeral parlors; Gamini Haththotuwegama disliked the color ‘white’, but propriety (as insisted upon by the family), according to his son Raji, declared that ‘black’ (his preferred color) was ‘out’! Was Lakdasa similarly frilled, I wondered.

Almost ten years ago, I asked (no one in particular), ‘Are novelists, poets and other writers aware that their final resting place is a dingy used-books store?’ Lakdasa is not found anywhere, Aparna will vouch for this. Is Lakdasa ‘resting in peace’ somewhere off ‘5th Lane, Borella Kanatte’? Did he turn in his grave and did he get so sick of turning that he left grave and exchange places (let us be irreverent here by way of offering tribute) with a more ‘godly’ resident of the Kanatte? Is Lakdasa on his headstone or has he been made to stand on his head in the grotesque fashion of say ‘writing in English and thereby committing cultural treason’? Am I to laugh? Should I cry?

How can we return to the fire of Lakdasa’s clay if not through his word (and not those of his ‘near and dear’)? What streaming arrows from the mountain will illuminate minds which erred or misread out of the arrogance of presumption? What desolate hills have moved from where to relocate upon a grave, a word and an epigraph? And the she, she and she again that is ‘our’ Senhora at whose husked feet the work could stop and men recline, where are they? Would he know if he walked by or would they all be gone and in their place remained nothing but a cold statuette that discomforts men who seek recline and relief?

The specter of Lakdasa Wikkramasinha rose above gravestone and computer screen, smiled and walked soft over land, stepped on to the Bauddhaloka Mawatha, crossed the Galle Road, the Marine Drive, the railwayline, the tiny strip of sand and then walked on water. There is nothing more to say.

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Ranil’s Moment

Humility is probably the most powerful propaganda tool around.  It is also the least used, especially by politicians.  This is why Opposition Leader Ranil Wickremesinghe should be applauded for acknowledging that his party erred in July 1983.  He said that the then UNP government did not take adequate action to prevent the riots. 

Wickremesinghe referred to this as he urged the Government to make sure that matters be resolved before they get out of hand; the ‘matter’ being that of Buddhist-Muslim tensions in the aftermath of riots in Aluthgama and Beruwala.  Implied here is the notion that contrary to wild extrapolations, what happened last week was nothing like ‘July 1983’ but that this country might very well see a repeat of ‘July 83’ if issues are not addressed adequately and conclusively. 

That’s another issue.  What’s interesting here is Ranil Wickremesinghe’s humility.  He was not only a cabinet minister at the time but as the nephew of the President widely viewed as heir apparent.  He lived through it all, silently.  But as they say, ‘better late than never’, after all it’s a lot more than other leaders have done, both in the UNP and in other parties.  The JVP, for example, still indulge in ‘mumblement’ when it comes to 1988-89 without clearly saying ‘yes, we killed some 3000 “informants”, close to 2000 “Government supporters”, almost 500 public servants, fifty principals of schools, one professor and one vice chancellor, over 500 members of the security forces and police, close to 100 home guards and 24 bikkhus’. 

The same goes for the Tamil National Alliance (TNA).  D.B.S. Jeyaraj has for example called out the TNA for duplicity, loud in calling for investigations into alleged crimes by all parties (knowing the LTTE is no more and therefore the exercise is futile and even impossible and knowing that only the Sri Lankan armed forces are being targeted) but remaining silent about TNA’s complicity in LTTE crimes.  Jeyaraj elaborates thus: ‘The TNA never appealed to the LTTE to release the Tamil civilians under its control even during the height of the war, is yet to condemn the conscription of children and will not celebrate the lives of political colleagues brutally murdered by the Tigers.  Among other things, one might add.

The crimes of omission and commission of the SLFP and its later avatars, the PA and UPFA, and its allies (JVP, Karuna-Faction) and the many, many, many acts of thuggery including murder perpetrated by top ranked politicians of that party are well documented.  They might pale of course when compared to the ‘adventures’ of the JVP and UNP, but that’s no excuse.  What happened in 1971 was nothing like what happened in 88-89, but '1971' did happen.  Youth were killed.  Policy errors, moreover, can always be revisited, from the time of S.W.R.D. Bandaranaike.  

The JVP will do (or will not do) this or that and that’s their business. The same goes for the TNA.  The same goes for the UPFA.  Ranil Wickremesinghe has come clean on the crimes of his party and in this he’s scored to the detriment of his detractors in the aforementioned parties and indeed those inside the UNP.  There’s a hitch though.  It is not the case that the only blemish of UNP rule between 1977 and 1994 was ‘July 1983’.  For each individual assassinated by the JVP the UNP regime oversaw the murder of at least 10.  Wickremesinghe has opened a door.  He must now walk through it all for selective humility is not humility but calculated political deceit. 

No politician in this country, apart from perhaps Champika Ranawaka and Sarath Amunugama, is more qualified than Ranil Wickremesinghe to review those UNP years (1977-1994).  Wickremesinghe was in the middle of it all.  He has the intellect.  He has the analytical skills.  He has shown that he has the humility and therefore it is legitimate to hope that he has what it takes to enumerate and discuss dispassionately that era.  He can begin with the 1978 Constitution (which he has described as a document that has outlived usefulness), take us through the July 1980 strike, the ‘Accelerated Mahaweli Development Programme’, the ‘Green-Black July’ of 1983, the White Paper on Education, the Indo-Lanka Accord, the IPKF years, the bheeshanaya, his ascent to the post of party leader subsequent to multiple assassinations and of course all that he did (and didn't do) during his brief tenure as premier and overseer of the Ceasefire Accord with the LTTE.  

He will no doubt inform, illuminate and teach thereby all politicians in his party and elsewhere the difference between politician and statesman.  He has nothing to lose and everything to gain.  More importantly he would be setting an example, a standard that others would be judged against.  He will be rewarded too, by an electorate that has demonstrated time and again an amazing capacity to forgive and forget and to show particular affection to those who are humble.  The UNP will benefit, naturally.  The UPFA will be stumped because as incumbent the party would have to acknowledge ongoing errors (mild word, that) unlike Ranil, whose disclosures could be easily dumped into the account of J R Jayewardene and Ranasinghe Premadasa. 

msenevira@gmail.com 

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An Army occupied with faith and the faithful

A temple is a temple is a temple.  There are grand ones and humble ones, rich and poor, revered ones and just-visited ones, temples where succor is sought due to reputation of delivery and temples which are comparatively nondescript, less frequented by devotee and then only in an in-passing manner.  A temple is a temple is a temple, yes.  Brick and mortar with image and color.  The omnipresent, by definition, is not contained in one but is ever-present in all; all things, temples included. Simultaneously.  

A temple is a temple is a temple.  And yet, there are temples which imperfect mortals believe are located in rare nodes of connectivity where human voice has better chance, perhaps, of reaching divine ear.  These draw devotees in their hundreds or even thousands, throughout the year and from year to year, decade to decade, century upon century, but especially so on those special days when people believe the divine ear is especially receptive to plea.  Such a place of worship is the Kannaki Amman Kovil and such a ‘holy moment’ is the festival week of the kovil, located in Vattrapalai, Mullaitivu.

‘Mullaitivu’, not too long ago, was not a place that anyone would have identified with worship and divinity.  Mullaitivu, after all, was the last bastion of the LTTE leader Velupillai Prabhakaran and as such was associated with the clash of arms, blood-letting, destruction and displacement, tragedies that can hardly be laid at the door or feet of divinity but for which humans alone must take responsibility even if act was accompanied by murmuring the name of god or whispered prayer.  But then again, as has happened throughout history, temples survive the battles of men even if edifices crumble in the anger, revenge-intent and inhumanity that is our creature-signature.  Gods do not flee.  Temples survive human onslaught and even those which do not are rebuilt.  The faithful re-flock to sing the praises of the divine.  

   

The Kannaki Amman Kovil, the annual festival of which was held from June 2-9, has a history that is more significant than the fact that Prabhakaran has worshipped there during the heyday of the LTTE.  The exact ‘beginning’ is not known, but remembered history recalls a time during the Dutch period.

Krishna Bhawan, the chief priest recalls thus.  According to legend, a Dutchman had once mocked the Goddess Kali during a conversation with the Kovil’s Chief Priest of the time. The clearly uncivilized Dutchman was punished then and there.  He had been hit by a fruit from a nearby tree. It hadn’t fallen on the man but had flown at a gravity-defying angle to deal him a painful blow. He had fled into the fort in Mullaitivu but he continued to suffer blow after blow.  Finally he had gone back to the kovil, apologized to the Chief Priest and promised to donate money to expand the Kovil.  What stands in Vattrapalai today is said to be the Kovil that was built with the money given by that repentant Dutchman.

Most devotees come to the Kovil to pray to Kannaki Amman, the deity who in Sinhala belief systems take the name Pattini.  Kannaki Amman, devotees believe, heals the sick.  The goddess also has the power to gift fertility and many childless couples pray to Kannaki Amman seeking to be blessed with children. 

There is another legend that is of particular significance to this Kovil.  Once Kannaki Amman is said to have taken the shape of an old woman and told some young men that they could find relief for their problems if they lit a lamp at the Kovil and offered sweet milk rice (Pongal). However, the men had not been able to find oil needed to light the lamp at which point the woman had told the men to use seawater as the sea was nearby. This was done and they were able to light the lamp. To this day, the lamp seen at the Kovil is lit using seawater, according to the Chief Priest. 

During the most intense days of fighting, residents of the area had sought shelter in the Kovil.  Not a single person had been injured or killed, the Chief Priest said.  Back then, this was ‘Tiger territory’ or ‘uncleared areas’ or ‘LTTE-held areas’.  Apparently the LTTE Leader Prabhakaran had not allowed any foreign devotee, Hindus included, to pray at the Kovil.  Back then, however, there weren’t many foreigners visiting the area.  Neither were there Sri Lankans from other parts of the country, Hindu or otherwise.  Today, on the other hand, people from all over the world flock to this place every year, according to the Priest in charge of administrative activities at the Kovil, Thangaraja.  Prabhakaran himself had never prayed inside the Kovil although his wife and children had participated in poojas. 

Velupillai Prabhakaran is no more. There’s no more fighting.  There still is a military presence but with a difference.  The security forces were at hand throughout the week-long festival assisting the devotees in numerous ways.  It is estimated that there were 300,000 devotees who prayed at the temple during this period.  The security forces had spent Rs 400,000 to shower flowers on the Kovil on seven occasions during the festival. They had also organized a ‘dansala’ for the hundreds of thousands who came to petition the goddess and seek relief.  The Chief Priest was grateful.  He also expressed appreciation of parliamentarian Namal Rajapaksa who had helped restore the ‘Ther’ chariot that parades around the Kovil during the festival. 

These are different times.  The human signature of frailty and violence is less pronounced now.  The Kovil stands.  Men come and go, there is war and there’s peace, but temple is a temple is a temple and faith-nodes are timeless.  They draw the frail human being along with his or her beliefs to seek divinity.    The origins are lost and end is unknown but from remembered time to the now of faith, worship and entreating, there’s a Kovil that stands witness to change but remains unchanged: the Kannaki Amman Kovil in Vattrapalai, Mullaitivu. 

Pix by Chandana Wijesinghe (information for the article was also provided by him) 

msenevira@gmail.com

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Prince Zeid Ra’ad Zeid al-Hussein’s prayer

The United Nations General Assembly on Monday has unanimously approved Prince Zeid Ra’ad Zeid al-Hussein of Jordan as the new High Commissioner for Human Rights, succeeding Navi Pillay of South Africa. Zeid is not filling big shoes. He’s filling strange shoes but that should not worry him because those who step into those shoes have a long history of slicing off toes and shaving heals. The shoes are US made, truth be told. Indeed, more often than not the US manages to find a Cinderella for whom the shoe is a perfect fit. But in a parallel universe Zeid can have a mind of his own and that mind can think. In a thinking mind thoughts bleed into words and words come together as prayer. Here is his.



‘Let me have courage. Let me have wisdom. Let me have the wisdom to separate fact from fiction. Let me have the wisdom to see agenda and preference in words that are uttered in shrill or ominous voices. Let me have the courage and good sense to tell myself every morning that the UN is made of member states and each voice of each name has equal worth. Let me have the humility to ask myself every night whether I’ve remembered this fact throughout my working hours.

‘Let me have a million eyes so that I will not only see what some people want me to see and so I will not miss that which some people don’t want me to see. Let me not be selective in vision or word. Let me have the wisdom to shave of frills, whether they come as crystallized sugar or as congealed drops of blood, so that I can obtain the true dimensions of incident and process.

‘Let me have patience. Let me not rush to judge. Let me have the wisdom, when appointing advisors to check credentials and let me have the wisdom to detect conflict of interest so that prejudice will not color the result of assessment or advice or other conclusions. 

‘Let me not be so foolish as to fire off ominous missives and veiled threats at the drop of a hat. Let me not be so foolish, moreover, not to make mountains out of molehills and worse see certain molehills and be blind to mountains, so that I will not confuse the two.

‘Let me have the courage to call tyrant a tyrant and the sense of justice to ask tyrant that points finger at tyrant, “a friend in deed?”

‘Let me find time to read up on history and political economy so I can discern both pattern and contradiction and thereby question the moral authority of finger pointers. 

‘Let me understand the truth that there are no bloodless wars. Let me tell myself over and over again that nowhere in the history of humankind has there ever been a hostage rescue operation concerning several hundred thousands of people held hostage by terrorists. Let me ask myself again and again which government, if so intent on genocide, provided enemy with food and medicine, and risked and lost thousands of personnel to rescue “enemy”.

‘Let me have the wisdom and courage to resist being a pawn of anyone or anything except the need to uphold human rights at all times in all places. Let me have the wisdom and the sense of justice to never forget that no life is less valuable than another life.

‘Let me resist the urge to take the word of particularly powerful and wealthy section of global media as biblical truth and instead understand that opinion, like consent, is frequently manufactured. 

‘In practical terms let me start where the rot starts and concentrate on the biggest violators of human rights this planet has known, namely the United States of America and its allies, Britain included. In this, let me investigate, first and foremost the unwarranted invasion of Iraq which Britain admits was illegal and the so-called “war on terror”. Let me not be fooled by do-gooders who fire missiles and carry out drone attacks claiming they are doing so for the good of the recipients. Let me not be fooled either by soft words like “democracy”, “peace” and “justice” because I know that horrendous crimes against humanity have been perpetrated in the name of such things.

‘Let me have the courage tell my predecessor to take her shoes with her as she leaves office.’

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'Extensive Methodology' of the OHCHR and other tidbits

Extensive Methodology of the OHCHR
Days after the announcement that Sri Lanka had decided to deny access to the UN investigation team, the Office of High Commissioner for Human Rights (OHCHR) said yesterday it had developed extensive methodologies to deal with situations where access had been denied. Wow! Now that’s refreshing. All these years all that the OHCHR did was regurgitate lies, damned lies and statistics tossed around by people who quote people who quote people who are utterly unreliable due to multiple reasons, framed of course by the policy preferences of the USA.

The monsters they spawn!

The Bodu Bala Sena is in a fix. Having done enough chest-thumbing, arms-throwing, spewing invective and inciting people to violence, the BBS is now forced to deal with the monster it helped create. There are BBS clones using the ‘BBS’ tag sprouting in various parts of the island. The BBS says ‘not us’. Well, that may be the case, but the rhetoric is word-for-word scripted from BBS (official) speeches. Now what, BBS?

Mangala’s kurundu-polu memory
UNP condemns Aluthgama violence, says Mangala Samaraweera. Mangala has gone on to ask ‘where was the government?’ i.e. when tensions were rising and eventually spilled into violence and mayhem. Legitimate condemnation. Legitimate question. Here’s another legitimate question, this one to Mangala: ‘Where was the government and where were you when some people picked up cinnamon clubs and set upon some people who were on a peaceful march?

Mechanism to prevent escalation of violence
In the aftermath of the flare up in Aluthgama and nearby areas, several Buddhist and Muslim religious leaders backed by politicians agreed to set up a mechanism to prevent further escalation of violence, officials have said. This is all good. It is a relief indeed to know that there are not only sane people around, they have the courage to come out and take a stand. But there’s another mechanism that can prevent violence, escalation included. The Police. It cannot be that the police are too dumb to identify possible flash-points. Why is the entire law-enforcement mechanism (which also has a ‘keeping the peace’ role) so impotent? Surely, things that can be nipped at the bud should be nipped at the bud?

Mainstream Media Vs Social Media
The mainstream media failed, champions of social media say. Social media exacerbated things because you can tweet to your heart’s content and not have to account for anything, those in the mainstream media say. Nalaka Gunawardena put it best: ‘irresponsible conduct in both (mainstream and social media)…our common challenge is to contain it while allowing freedom of expression.’ Good for the reader to exercise some grey cells too, to read and read through and to read and wonder about silences.

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What is the color of racism?

‘Before you speak let your words pass through three gates. At the first gate, ask yourself ‘is it true?’ At second, ask yourself ‘is it necessary?’ And at the third, ask yourself ‘is it kind?’ – Sufi saying.

Social media is for some a stress reliever. Facebook and Twitter are sounding boards for some and for others Agony Aunts or even shrinks. That’s at the personal level. There is by definition a social element to it too of course. That’s why there are groups, followers and followed on these sites. 

Social media is not all that it is claimed to be and neither is it the nothing that others claim it to be. Has its uses, has its pitfalls. It steps in when mainstream media steps back and this is a good thing. The flip side is that even as there are responsible posts where people don’t say ‘any old thing’ there are utterly irresponsible statements made without verification and without corroboration. These are re-posted and re-tweeted as though it’s all fact.

It is argued that the lie gets called quite fast in social media. This is true. It’s faster of course than in mainstream media such as newspapers. On the other hand not everyone on Facebook and Twitter are actually listening to the counter-argument, there being enough people who dismiss any counter to believed ‘truth’ as conspiracy, lie, obfuscation etc. Moreover, within ‘groups’ (of all ‘faiths’) the counterpoint is absent. 

By and large the in-your-face commentator intent on thrusting his or her opinion down your throat is easily recognizable. They win the day, most days, but sometimes one wonders if it is they that are mostly to blame for hardening of positions, the whipping up of racial hatred and the sweeping vilification of an entire collective for the crimes of a few. 

‘Aluthgama’ generated horror and disgust, condemnation and fear, excuses and justification, accusation and counter-accusation. There was also sanity. There were the pragmatists who got down to the hard and not fashionable matter of providing relief to the displaced. There were others who pleaded for restraint, patience and calm. ‘It should not be allowed to spread, things should not get worse,’ they argued even as others were indulging in wild claims such as ‘It’s 1983 all over again’ not as warning (legitimate) but as fact (erroneous). 

And quite reminiscent of the profile pictures that many picked up during the agitation by FUTA (Federation of University Teachers’ Associations) where the legend ‘6%’became signature statement of position, many changed their profile picture to ‘Stand Against Racism’ or versions of this sentiment. We will get to that presently.

There was also an FB post with a link to John Lennon’s ‘Imagine’, that all time favorite of anti-war demonstrators and other peace activists who promote non-violence. The lines are lovely: ‘Imagine there’s no countries, it isn’t hard to do; nothing to kill or die for and no religion too.’ What’s interesting, though, is that those who sing that song and spread the sentiment around aren’t putting their money where their mouths are. There’s never been a note accompanying such posts of the following kind: ‘I hereby drop my religion, I will hereafter be faithless and I denounce country, race and all other identifiers of collectivity’. So it is almost as though they want others to drop their religion while keeping their own faith. 

Another, more subtle, version of the same hypocrisy was evident on FB. There were people who changed their profile picture to an image of a hand with a tiny map of Sri Lanka in the middle. It was the classic ‘No!’ sign, fingers spread out. The caption was ‘Stand against racism’. The trick is in the color. The background was yellow, clearly the color associated with Buddhism and Buddhists. What’s the subliminal message here? Buddhists are racists (extremists, religious fundamentalists, what have you?)? 

There is blanket dismissal and vilification here of an entire collective. It was picked up by many, Buddhists included, one has to assume more in innocence than with any conspiratorial intent. It is doubtful that Muslims who put this image up were all thinking ‘Buddhists and only Buddhists are “racist”’. But you can’t get around the assumptions embedded in the color-choice. Not only are all Buddhists vilified, there is a simultaneous claim that Buddhists and Buddhists alone are to blame. No one else. The facts on the ground rebel against this position. No, it is not that Buddhists and Muslims are equally to blame, but no one is entirely blameless here. Provocation and violence were not the preserve of ‘Buddhists’. So is it that ‘Racism by Buddhists’ (shouldn’t it be religious intolerance and not ‘racism’?) is the only kind of ‘racism’ people are ready to object to?

Interestingly some who preferred the yellow-sign are also people who not too long ago said ‘don’t conflate LTTE and “Tamil”’ (even as they said ‘The LTTE is the sole-representative of the Tamil people’). We see an easy slip from BBS to ‘Sinhala Buddhist’ and to ‘Sinhala Buddhist State’ and ‘Sinhala Buddhist hegemony’, almost like how ‘Buddhists’ were ready with petrol and matchbox to meet ‘stone-throw provocation’. It’s a habit, then? 

There’s sanity too, fortunately. Azmeer Mohamed had put up a ‘Stand against racism’ profile pic. It had yellow and it had green. Chameera Dedduwage has the same profile picture. That’s rising above it all. One might objection to the proportional split considering the fact that it was the Muslims who had to bear the brunt of the violence – it would be a travesty of justice to say ‘both communities suffered’ when in fact what the Muslims suffered dwarfs what Buddhists did, but still, it’s better than the blanket dismissal of single-color (mis)representation. 

There are no all-green signs, by the way. There is nothing to stop anyone from going for a neutral background color. White, for example. 

But why quibble about a color, one might ask, when there are shops being burnt and when Muslims legitimately feel threatened? Well, there’s no reason to go overboard in any direction. Whatever is done should help because the slightest slight can make things dramatically worse. 

These are not easy times. Frayed tempers, perceived grievances, real threats and real fears are all elements that can cloud and blow away reason. This is the hour or the rumor-monger. This is the hour of the extremist. This is the hour of the passionate. This is therefore the hour when reason must ‘come to the party’. Big time. And there has to be reason in both the big and the small. A spark, after all, is not of gigantic proportion. 

Azmeer Mohamed gives a clue. He posted the Sufi saying quoted above. Azmeer Mohamed asks himself ‘is it true, necessary and kind?’ It cannot hurt to follow his example.  


Related Articles:

The Muslim in me
Aluthgama must be arrested
The IGP must resign

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The IGP must resign!*

These are days of frayed tempers, perceived grievances, real threats and real fears that can cloud and blow away reason.  This is the hour or the rumor-monger.  This is the hour of the extremist.  This is the hour of the passionate and irresponsible. 

The word on the street is ‘Aluthgama’.  Indeed it is the word on every street where matters of yesterday, today and tomorrow, matters of the nation and its destiny, matters of unrest and fear and other related matters are discussed.  Aluthgama moved from the Kalutara district to Colombo and Badulla.  ‘This is 83-July all over again,’ some said.  Not true, but we could get there. 

There were arguments over who threw the first stone, as though it justified throw-return and more.  After all it is hard to pin it down to first stone cast when there were only a handful of STF men to ‘protect the (BBS) procession’ in Dharga Town.  STF personnel were clearly confused because their orders were specific.   One source explained thus: ‘The Muslims keep saying that the STF sided with the mob.  We didn’t.  We were acting on our orders which were specific and were about protecting the procession.’  

It was not, let us repeat, not a peaceful procession.  There were anti-Muslim slogans, there was whipping of hysteria, there was undisguised inciting of violence against Muslims in a Muslim majority area by people who had petrol cans and carried weapons. Literally minutes after that ‘first stone’ Muslims and Muslim-owned premises were attacked and torched in Adhikarigoda, Aluthgama and the interior of Dharga Town. 

Most of all, it is hard to pin it down on first stone when Buddhist monks torched a shopping complex in Aluthgama more than a month ago over an alleged molestation of a Buddhist child by a Muslim, the relative of the shop owner, when in fact CCTV evidence disproved the allegation. The shop was torched only several days later. 

Blaming first-stone-thrower is therefore a joke.

There are questions which are not funny, though.  If Azath Salley was arrested for ‘hate speech’, why is Rev Galagodaaththe Gnanasaara still free?  Why did the Police not prevent the BBS rally despite many pleas to do so from many quarters (a planned ‘BBS’ rally in Mawanella was stopped, after all)?  Why was the STF not ordered to maintain peace but instructed only to ‘protect the procession’?  Why didn’t the police stop armed mobs scurrying around with clubs and violent intent (not just in Aluthgama on Sunday but elsewhere too thereafter)?  

Most importantly, why did the Inspector General of Police N.K. Ilangakoon state that a Buddhist monk had been assaulted when he had no evidence to support the claim?  The Judicial Medical Officer’s report which would have either proven or refuted the said monk’s claim (as of Friday) has not been issued.  Highly placed sources at the Attorney General’s Office could not confirm that the monk had indeed been assaulted. 

If there was convoluted justification of last Sunday’s violence and if justification spurred further violence the blame falls squarely on the IGP for making the following (irresponsible) statement: ‘Three Muslims in a trishaw assaulted the driver and the Buddhist monk. The Buddhist monk was in hospital receiving treatment for two days and then discharged.  He was to be taken to the temple in a procession when the incident occurred.’ 

The IGP offered speculation as fact. That’s incompetent and irresponsible. Yesterday the Muslim-owned ‘No Limit’ outlet in Panadura was torched.  While it is not clear how it all happened, it is clear that the sequence of events prompt people to connect dots and reach conclusion, wrong though they may be.  Tinkering with the truth and lying outright causes friction, throw out sparks and cause infernos that are hard to put out.

It is wrong to blame it all on one person, but it is equally wrong not to point out those who provided fuel and matchstick, tossed in extra firewood and refused to douse it even though they had all the water necessary to do the job.  We have to take issue with the IGP.  He must resign forthwith.

 

*Editorial, 'The Nation', June 22, 2014

** See also 
'Aluthgama' needs to be arrested
The Muslim in me
The bigger thing is to keep matchstick in matchbox

msenevira@gmail.com 

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The world is made of humiliation and insult

“If the insults and humiliations of all time were woven into a cloth would not the tapestry wrap the earth many times over?”

There are times when I feel the world is made of advertisements.  Look around you.  So many people, so many ideologies, so many businesses, each of them with something to sell, each of them trying to persuade us to make a purchase of one kind or another.

Blank out all signs, all words, all visuals and all subtle appeals whispering ‘buy me, buy me’ and it’s still a lot of advertising.  Look around and try counting the number of walking CVs you encounter.  It’s a world of like me’, love me, hold my hand, feel my pain, let’s make a deal, I am better than he/she, I am pretty, I am honest, I am strong, I am sensitive etc etc.

Perhaps it has always been like this, but I like to think that there was a time when work was the best advertisement, when action counted more than anything else and I like to think that someday we will revert to that bullshit-less time.  Perhaps I am being nostalgic and naïve.

A few days ago I thought to myself ‘if only it was advertising and nothing else!’  I am saying this because even as the glitter really covers a lot of nasty stuff one doesn’t exactly need a magnifying glass or some special kind of training to see that the world is made of advertisements and also humiliation.

I am not a fan of ‘weak-equals-good’.  The ‘weak’ when empowered are no less bad than the strong.  They too exploit, they too humiliate and they too derive profit and joy in these processes.  Perhaps, therefore, it is a condition that is part and parcel of being located in the higher rungs of structured hierarchies.

Should it be this way always, though?  Is it possible for there to be exploitation without humiliation or vice versa?  Is ‘revolution’ the answer?  I am no longer sure. One set of hierarchies being replaced by another will only change the so called masters of our fate; they will replace one kind of exploitation with another, the humiliating and humiliated with another set of people looking down their noses at another set of people who have to ‘grin and bare’ or worse. 

It’s about belong to clubs.  Non-members are shown the door if that’s possible. Or they are made uncomfortable.  They are made to understand that they don’t belong. No, that’s not enough, they are also made to understand that they are somehow lesser mortals. 

Check out the hierarchies around you.  Take an office.  Take parliament.  A defence establishment.  A sports body.  An I/NGO.  A diplomatic mission.  A village made of multiple castes.  A church.  A school.  We are insulted by the media, its lies and covering-up.  We are insulted by ‘scholars’ who defend and justify all kinds of tyrannies.  We are humiliated when Barack Obama wants to hide footage of what his troops have done in Iraq, when the British Prime Minister tells us that there’s no ‘Britain’ in ‘British Petroleum’ and tries to wash the hands of white capital in the destruction that is spewing out in the Gulf of Mexico.

How many times have you seen a word dropped or glance thrown with deliberate intent to insult the ‘receiver’?  How many times is a question passed without being answered and the questioner made to feel that silence is a legitimate answer? How many times is a person turned away and asked to come the next day or next year for the flimsiest of reasons? How many times have you heard of a teacher adding insult over and above punishment warranted by need to correct?  How many times a word dropped to point to some social category that is held to be ‘lower’ in some structured hierarchy?  How many times has this happened to you? How many times have you done it?

It is not just in formal settings.  It happens within families, in the household.  The older and the stronger protect and provide but sometimes exact a price for this by exercising some kind of ‘right’ to ridicule, humiliate, control and punish.  It happens to little children. It happens to women. It is a quickly learnt practice, with older children doing to younger siblings what their parents and other elders do to them.  Time passes, and when the older get very old and the powerful become weak, they are returned the favour.  It’s called ‘bossing’. 

What can stop bossing?  It is a two-way street isn’t it?  The boss has to do a re-think. The bossed too.  At some level it is about negotiating the terms of bossing; what is acceptable and what is not.  That’s the reality of power relations.  Somewhere along the line we seem to have resigned ourselves to this ridiculous situation that is sometimes used as excuse for all kinds of violence: ‘the poor ye shall always have’.  It can be extended, this line: ‘people will always be subjected to humiliation’, ‘what will the world be without bosses?’ and ‘if we have to have bosses, how can we stop bossing?’

I am of the view that anything and everything in this world can be justified.  I watched recently a special screening of Athula Liyanage’s amazing debut film, ‘Bambarawalalla’ (Whirlwind), which won the Remi Award for 2010 at the World Fest International Houston Film Festival.  One line struck me down: ‘Good and bad exist only when we are alone with our thoughts; out there when among others, in society, in the world, they don’t count’.  For all the talk of ethics, morality and even the more formalized structures of coding behaviour and defining boundaries that mark ‘acceptable’ and ‘unacceptable’, the truth is that it is all a lie. Paradoxically.  We can do as we like as long as we don’t get caught and even if we do, there are ways of escaping depending on factors like money, power, ability to arm-twist, friends in high places etc.  Worse, even if we don’t get away, the fact that there are hundreds and thousands out there ‘free’ even though they are as guilty as we are, makes a mockery of all such processes frilled with righteousness. 

I return, again and again, to the incomparable teachings of Siddhartha Gauthama, the Enlightened One, Lord Buddha and the teachings of ego. We are not on that path, I know.  We do not explore and when we do we neglect to investigate the non-negotiable: self.  Still, even a cursory reading of the Buddha Vachana (Word of Lord Buddha) would teach us the virtue of examining this thing called ‘ego’ and all the bile it dishes out and bathes us with.

I am convinced. It boils down to self and what we do and do not do with it. My friend Pradeep Jeganathan is right.  It’s about ethics.  And ‘ethical conduct’ despite the implication of social contract and relevant codification the term is decorated with, is a personal choice and draws from that moral universe we inhabit when we are alone, that place of solitude and terror where along ‘good’ and ‘bad’, ‘right’ and ‘wrong’ has relevance, as Athula Liyanage points out.  That’s what gives us ‘hope’ in the end, it is what makes things that little bit more bearable.  We need more of it. A lot more.    

I spoke of a tapestry. Would it be a bandage that covers for a while, or a healing paththuwa, a fermenting pack that draws out the world’s poisons?  What will we do with it when its work is done?  Toss it into the night sky, with pus and blood and all that’s not nice?  No, we retreat to self.  We go out to ‘self’.  We sober up.

 msenevira@gmail.com

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And Vasilisa is still beautiful after all these years

People send me book lists now and then. They want to see if I’ve read at least 6 in the list. Sometimes the figure is 10.  Such lists, I am told, consist of the most popular books on earth or those which have had the greatest influence on humankind.  Some lists are devoted to fiction and some don’t make such distinctions.  Such requests come on Facebook. For the most part they consist of books that are written in English or else translated into that language. I haven’t seen a single Chinese book in any of these lists.  There was one time though when I saw a Chinese story, if one may call it that; ‘The good earth’ by Pearl S Buck.  I had read the Sinhala translation but not the English. 

I haven’t seen Sybil Wettasinghe’s DuwanaRewla (‘The runaway beard’ or ‘The running beard’) or her Kuda Hora (‘The umbrella thief’). Nothing of Martin Wickramasinghe or of Piyadasa Sirisena. Haven’t encountered the works of Simon Navagaththegama,  JayatilakaKammellaweera or MahagamaSekara. I can’t blame anyone for this.  No one is omniscient and people are free to pick and choose. 

Some queries are open-ended. One is required to make a list and share.  I have never indulged in these exercises, entertaining and informative though they surely are.  This Sunday morning I was thinking of books I’ve read, loved, treasured and re-read.

‘Vasilisa the Beautiful’ enchanted and still does, I realized.  Not the ‘most influential’ or ‘the best’ of course, but just as there are right moments to read particular books there are moments to remember them as well. 

My late mother was not a writer.  She knew books, though. Books.  Yes, they were among the greatest gifts she gave us.  Back then in the early seventies even though she got a next-to-nothing salary as an assistant teacher, she built a library for us at home, mostly courtesy the largesse of the Soviet Union and cheap but high quality books put out by Progress Publishers and sold at the People’s Publishing House, Slave Island.  It may have been a deliberate strategy, I don’t know, but looking back I think learning English was made easy by the fact that she made available to us translations of Russian books in both Sinhala and English. 

‘Lassana Vasilisa’was what the collection of fairy tales was called in Sinhala.  Fascinated me.   Nothing of the experience was robbed by the fact that it was read in Sinhala, when the English version came to my hands.  She brought both books home.  Vasilisa was as beautiful in Sinhala as she was in English.  I wanted to be the Sinhala ‘Fenist the Falcon’ as much as the English one (and had I known Russian, the want might have been even greater) and wanted so much for a Maryushka (Sinhala or English) to come looking for me. 

I was Ivan the Poor, I was Ivan Young of Years Old of Wisdom and I knew I would someday marry Aloyna the Lovely Tsarevna.  I was Simeon the Youngest (of the Seven Simeons) who would sing songs and play the pipe, warming the hearts of people with music and lightening their labour.  We are all the heroes in the books we read, I now realize and it doesn’t really matter if life doesn’t turn out as promised in storybook. 

Yesterday I saw my daughter reading a ‘cheaper’ (in terms of quality, not price) version of ‘Vasilisa the Beautiful’.  She told me she had already read the Sinhala version.  I had forgotten that I had got her both some years ago.  She is a re-reader and I am sure she must have been Vasilisa several times and Maryushka too.  I am sure she went passed the Thrice-Nine Lands to the Thrice-Ten Tsardoms and finally met her beloved Fenist.

I don’t know what kinds of lists she will be asked to make or from which she would be asked to pick favourites three decades from today. I don’t know if she will wonder why people have not considered ‘Vasilisa the Beautiful’ or Kuda Hora or whatever other treats she associates with childhood and attributes decision and direction in life to.  She loves books. That’s enough for me. For now.

In the end, I feel, for all the rebellions directed at parents, we end up just like them.  My mother, as I said, was a teacher. She showed pathways without seeming to do so.  She was my greatest teacher for all these things and especially for introducing me to the greatest teacher of them all, as far as I can tell, Siddhartha Gauthama.  She introduced me to Vasilisa and this is how I discovered that we are always children and although we leave childhood behind, it remains resident within us.  She introduced me to Jesus Christ for she had attended a Catholic school and loved to sing the hymns she had learned as a child.  That’s how I came to know that this exceptional human being once said ‘Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these’. 

I do not believe in ‘god’ or ‘heaven’, but when such notions are treated as metaphors, I see no major contradiction in the relevant philosophies.  In this instance, I am glad that my mother showed me how to open heart to child and child to heart.  I am glad she taught me how to let them come and also to go to them.

Most of all, I am glad she taught me how to acknowledge, appreciate and rejoice in the fact that we are made of the Upali Giniwella and Jinna, Ivan the Poor and Ivan – Young of Years, Old of Wisdom, Fenist the Falcon and Simeon the Youngest.  And of course ways to let heart be open to the permanent residency of Aloyna the Lovely Tsarevna, Maryushka and the unforgettable Vasilisa the Beautiful. 

I hope I am even half the teacher that my mother was, but even if I am not I won’t be too worried. My daughter loves among other things, books included, ‘Vasilisa the Beautiful’.  That’s enough. For now.

malindasenevi@gmail.com

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Rights and wrongs of the UNP position

Some may believe that it was a masterstroke by the Government to go to Parliament with the issue of the team appointed by the UN High Commission for Human Rights.  The ruling party has the numbers.  Secondly, the opposition (barring the TNA of course) would be caught in a bind because if they oppose the Government’s position it would amount to (or at least interpreted as amounting to) complicity in ill-willed, pernicious, selective action against Sri Lanka by sections of the international community which, in the end, would run counter to the ‘reconciliation-need’ in whose name these moves are being made. 

The United National Party (UNP) in a recent media statement has pointed out the obvious: the investigation will go ahead whether or not Sri Lanka cooperates.  The UNP points to ‘egregious errors committed and lackadaisical inaction displayed’ by ‘the ruling family cabal’ and blames this for inviting international scrutiny which, the UNP implies, is something the party is not happy about.

The statement thereafter elaborates on ‘egregious errors’ and ‘lackadaisical inaction’ throwing into that heady brew acts of commission and omission that have little to do with the matter at hand, the allegations regarding the final stage of the operations against the LTTE.  Pointing to promises about implementing the horrendously flawed and illegally constituted 13^th Amendment serves no ‘national purpose’.  If the UNP was principled it would insert the relevant caveats even while emphasizing the error of ‘making pledges for the consumption of the international community’.  Instead the UNP happily indulges in Eelam-speak, throwing in the word ‘unified’ (not ‘unitary’, it must be noted) along with ‘free’ and ‘democratic’. 

 The UNP, interestingly, points out (legitimately) the fact that persons clearly involved in human rights violations are in or close to the government.  These violations of course did not take place during the period that is to be reviewed.  Interestingly, again, the UNP does not take the UNHRC to task for limiting inquiry to a few months when in fact a violation-ridden conflict (are there wars without any, the UNP does not ask) dragged on for close to three decades. 

The UNP is correct: investigations will proceed with or without Government approval (and of course with or without Parliament sanction).  The UNP calls the Government to ‘cooperate with the UNHRC’ even as the party opposes ‘international scrutiny’.  That’s a contradiction.  Moreover, it calls to question the true intentions of the UNP including its claimed patriotism. Indeed, if the UNP is so opposed to international scrutiny the party would not (as it has in the statement) sing hosannas to the same busybodies, the pernicious ways of whose movers and shakers Ranil Wickremesinghe cannot feign ignorance about.  ‘Credibility’ moreover is something of a joke in this day and age when the likes of known charlatans such as Navi Pillay happen to be sitting in judgment. 

On the other hand the UNP is absolutely correct in pointing out that the Government does not help Sri Lanka’s case by time and again thumbing its nose, so to speak, at the edifice of justice in the country, from the Chief Justice right down to your constable.    The statement has its strength, therefore, not in stated positions with respect to the UNHRC’s well-documented witch-hunt, but as explication of general ills of the day.

Thus, even while the Government can (as it probably would) tear to pieces the statement on account of its confused and contradictory content, it would do well to avail itself of the opportunity provided by the UNP’s pledge ‘to support the Government to restore the systems and institutions of democratic governance’.  The UNP wants as ‘price’ the restoration of the 17^th Amendment (flawed, but still an important democratizing document), return to civilized values (nice wish, but hard to legislate for) and the rule of law (eminently ‘doable’).

All this needs to be done, not to satisfy Navi Pillay or any of the insatiable loud-mouths in the international community but to stop and reverse the erosion of democracy in Sri Lanka. If the Government so chooses it can call the UNP’s bluff on this, set up a mechanism to review the constitution and institutional arrangement and correct the flaws therein, with the support of the UNP, perhaps even with Ranil Wickremesinghe heading such a body.  The support of the TNA, the JVP and the DP, all of whom share the views of the UNP on this issue, can be solicited and even obtained.  After all even the most ardent SLFPer cannot morally oppose the correction of constitutional flaws and other deficits that compromise the rule of law. 

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‘Aluthgama’ needs to be arrested forthwith

The Bodu Bala Sena (BBS) holds a rally following an ‘incident’.  A second, more violent incident follows.  That’s an easy line to draw, i.e. from BBS to violence.  It holds.  The language, the whipping up of emotions, creation and/or exacerbation of apprehensions regarding another community do not add up to prthagjanas reverting to the foundational tenets, especially wisdom and compassion, or the inhabiting of the sathara brahma viharana (compassion, kindness, equanimity and rejoicing in another’s joys) but produce a quick slide to besieged mentality, persecution mania and the adaptation of ‘attack is the best form of defence’ thinking. 

What are the ‘facts’ that we have here?  There’s the ‘incident’ where it is claimed that a Muslim person had hit a bikkhu. Claiming is easy and this side of arahathood anyone, bikkhus included, can transgress precepts, including the fourth, the commitment not to utter falsehood).  Not only are things lost in narration, lots get added on too in the process. A disagreement becomes dispute, dispute becomes argument, argument raises voices, raised voices lead to in-your-face closeness, proximity tends to contact, contact is read as aggressive touch, touch is blow, and blow is assault.  What happens between two human beings is then an altercation between two persons from two communities, religious communities, that is.

The fact is that neither party can offer anything to conclusively prove their case.  So they go to the Police.  What can the police do?  If the police are impartial, the police will weigh evidence and let the law take its course, either towards dismissal or indictment. The police, since it is also tasked to maintain peace, will take precautions to ensure that tempers are kept in check. 

The Police may have done the best they could but ‘the best’ clearly has been inadequate.  Muslims have been attacked in Alutgama. Houses and shops have been torched.  The BBS rally could have been stopped (others have been on numerous occasions, after all).  Outfits like the BBS thrives on ‘flash-points’ and are not averse to creating ‘flash-points’ which can be exploited.  The ‘democratic’ argument; right to assemble, right to express opinion etc; is thin given histories that the Police and higher authorities are clearly not ignorant about. 

It’s so easy to slide on the matter of ‘faith’.   Someone says ‘I was hit’ and those who hear that will see robe and bikkhu, will see ‘Muslim’ and not another human being, will not stop and ask ‘is that true?’ and will not let the law deal with it.  And when the law does deal with it, even in clumsy ways, if the ‘decision’ is perceived as ‘unfair’, there is frustration. The police and the government have not helped at all.  There have been countless instances in these types of situations as well as in regular policing matters where the law has been a politician’s plaything and police officers turned into hapless implementers of orders ‘from above’.  

In this context Buddhists will say (as they have – check FB posts) that the Government is turning a blind eye on ‘Islamic Extremism’ and Muslims will say (as they have) that this is a  ‘Sinhala Buddhist state’ with tacit approval of ‘Extremist Buddhist outfits’ and their attacks on Muslims and Muslim establishments.  Both parties can cite innumerable instances of ‘government support’ to the ‘other’.  Buddhists will say ‘Kuragala’ and Muslims could point to state-run media outfits that have blown the Aluthgama incident way out of proportion, claiming that political mileage was being sought by stating as established fact what is, as of now, nothing more than an allegation, that of a bikkhu being attacked by a Muslim (whether or not religion was part of it is of course not even footnoted!).

Part of the reason is this whole ‘besieged’ discourse that is gaining ground across all communities based on identity, regardless whether they constitute the majority or are a minority.  Identity assertion is not illegal.  Sometimes it is not a matter of pride; it is a communal assertion that seeks safety from perceived threat.  Sometimes it is defiance.  Somewhere in this assertion business there is also a thread of threat. 

Be that as it may, the ground that is made uneven and therefore made for tripping in multiple ways, is clearly a product of a break down in the entire institutional arrangement pertaining to law and order.  It has made it possible for anyone to stake high moral ground claiming persecution and complicity of the police in the pernicious designs of the ‘other’. 

For this, no one is to blame, but all relevant individuals and bodies in the government. 

If the Government does nothing, then we are in a serious situation.  However, even if the Government does nothing, it does not follow that the people should twiddle their thumbs.  If ‘faith’ is at the center of these disturbing developments, then it would not be out or order to seek in ‘faith’ the appropriate response.

No doctrine needs defense.  Political positions require defense, political organizations can claim that defense is necessary. Attack will be an easy option in the matter of defending these things.  Organizations have their membership made of the like-minded. They rarely listed to advise from outsiders (why should they?).  But not all Buddhists are members of the BBS and not all Buddhists support the BBS. 

There is legitimate fear on the part of Muslims.  No amount of assurances from the government or the police or the neighbors would succeed in removing these fears completely.  It is necessary however for Buddhists to talk to their Muslim neighbors. It is not about saying sorry for crimes committed in their name by people they don’t even know or whose actions they did not and would not support.  All that needs to be done is to say ‘I will not do this and I will do my best to stop anyone from doing anything like this to you or your family, my friend’.    

It is not easy to argue with a mob, but I have seen individuals standing up to mobs.  Reason, compassion, determination and everything else that one obtained or is strengthened by faith, will do it. 

Aluthgama is a metaphor for a lot of things. A lot of things we really can do without.  For this reason Aluthgama needs to be arrested forthwith, if not by the Government then by the decent, civilized, law-abiding citizens of this country, whatever their faith.

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The heartbeat of our country has a name

[This is a love note unlike any other I've ever written.  For Rukshan Abeywansha I would have happily given all the words I had and remained silent forever, if it would mean that he walks again.  It's all over now though. He's gone.  'The Nation' lost its eyes.  Beautiful eyes.  Go well, Rukshan to landscapes more privileged than those you've left behind]

Some years ago a friend working in an International NGO asked me if I knew of a poem that described Sri Lanka.  It would have to be in English or Sinhala or Tamil poem that was translated into English.  Apparently, the organization had wanted employees from all over the world to share a ‘country poem’ with one another for purposes of greater familiarization. 

I remembered ‘Call of Lanka’ by Rev Walter Senior but couldn’t find it. In the end I wrote something and told her, ‘this is the best I can do’.  The following lines come to me now:

I have heard the heartbeat of my country

In the tolling of the bell on Samanala Kanda,

The healing drone of pirith weaving its way

Through tree and conversation,

In the call for prayer,

‘Allah O Akbar’

The church choir and hymn

And the chanting of the Poosari.

Why should I wrote about anything when Rukshan could say it all this way?

It was not, of course, one of those ‘mention all and pretend we are one’ kind of poem, but a simple acknowledgment of self and neighbor, individual and community, distinction and coexistence. 

It all came to me and came together a few days ago. 

One week ago, ‘The Nation’ had its darkest hour.  Something happened that stopped the clock, stopped heartbeat and kept everything on hold through that particular hour and the hours and days that followed.  An accident.  Two young boys, Kavinda Vimarshana and Rukshan Abeywansha, the former suffering multiple fractures and the other…fractured in ways that broke each and every one of us at ‘The Nation’ and many in the ‘Rivira’ family, past and present, in unhealable ways.

He loves his work, his family, his friends

Rukshan is currently in the ICU at Central Hospital. Structural damage to his spine has been effectively repaired by Dr Sunil Perera who claims he’s no magician but who is widely regarded as a miracle worker.  It is early days of recovery for Rukshan but he does not know and we do not know how long, if ever, it would take for him to regain sensation below his neck.  We hope.

There were tears for Kavinda, a roly-poly boy who is, at 21, the baby of our team and adored to death by all for his cheerful ways.  Tears for Rukshan too, father of two children yet to go to school, because he never lost his smile through all his many trials.  Life bludgeoned him frequently but he absorbed the blows and never shared his woes.  He captured life, this point-click man, in amazing ways. 

He suspected he had suffered paralysis but wasn’t sure if it was that or that he had lost his legs.  So he asked someone.  Right up to the point where he was taken to the operating theater, Rukshan was more concerned about the problems of others.  ‘Is your father better now?’ he asked.  ‘Do you have a picture for the cover of JEANS?’ he asked.  That’s him. 

There were tears and there are still tears, but through all the blurring of event and sorrow there was clarity too. 

The Nation came together. Those in our sister papers did not just commiserate, they also took the loss personally, inquired, called doctors and hospital administration, found out what was happening and what needed to be done and did it.   That’s mainly because Rukshan didn’t belong to The Nation.  He belongs to the larger Rivira family and more so to the family of rare human beings who go about their work and lives without a single dark thought.

We are best as human beings when we come together, we are best even in our solitary reflections and prayers when they have something to do with the collective. 

Apart from the must-do of practical response, there were prayers; each according to his or her faith, and all together regardless of faith-preference in seeking succor from each other’s temples. 

There were bodhi poojas at the Ode Pansala close by.  There were prayers offered at St Anthony’s Church Kochchikade.  U.L. Ranjith, a Rivira driver made a vow at the Pillewa Temple.  Some went to the Kovil.  The Quran was recited, Dua was solicited and Zakat was given.  Merit was sought to be transferred. Divine intervention was sought. 

The heartbeat of our country was evident in all these things but mostly in these heartbeats collapsing into a singular wish, that it all adds to that which it takes to keep Rukshan’s heart beating and beating in a body that moves, a body with eyes that saw and saw through the world and continues to see thus, a fingers that touched this world and made it come alive in ways few could imagine. 

The heartbeat of our country, right now, at this moment and at this sad but hopeful place we reside in, has a name.  Rukshan Abeywansha.  

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Lament of the UNP constitution

I’ve always thought he was bright.  He was and is his uncle’s nephew.  I saw him first as a cub and I saw the fox he would eventually grow up to become.  There are situations that are bigger than the man and he was a victim of bigger things.  That’s all. 

He is vilified at every turn but then again those who vilify him are not exactly saints. They have their ambitions and for all claims about grave concern for the party for each and every one of them the party is but a vehicle for personal advancement.  Not that he is not ambitious (who is not, after all?), but this holier-than-thou postulations really give me more cramps than those who authored me and amended me have burdened me with.

Yes, vehicles.  He spoke of the 1977 model during the ceremony to felicitate Ranjith Maddumabandara upon completing 25 years in politics. He spoke of vehicles.  Sorry, he spoke of a vehicle.   He said that it is in pretty bad shape. Spot on.  He pointed out that parts have had to be replaced.  The vehicle continues to stagger along, falling into potholes, getting stuck in the mud and so on.  He is right. A new vehicle is required.  Ok, if you didn’t get it, he was talking about the 1977 Constitution,

True, it was his uncle that gave it to us.  True, his uncle came up with it so that the UNP could remain in power forever. True, his uncle envisaged that one day his nephew would benefit from it.  True, things didn’t pan out the way everyone thought they would.  True, instead of benefiting from it, he is suffering from it.  Ranil Wickremesinghe has ample reason to see flaw in the 1977 vehicle.  Naturally, the beneficiaries of that document who for decades called it draconian and used all kinds of unkind words to describe its author are of the view that the vehicle is anything but imperfect. It works fine.  For them. 

All this is true.  What is also true is that he, Ranil Wickremesinghe that is, is absolutely correct if he was speaking for the people.  That car might be called any number of names but ‘Democratic’ is not one of them.  Whether or not a new vehicle benefits my main man, the people of this country need a new one.  

Non-negotiable.

I applaud him, this now-not-so-young fox.  He deserves much praise.  He speaks the truth.  Even if he turns out to be the main beneficiary of a new vehicle (for example, getting to be in the driver’s seat), he has to say it simply because it is the truth. We need a new vehicle. We need a new constitution! 

What I am sad about is the fact that while he went on and on and on about a new vehicle for the country, he didn’t utter a single word about the fact that the party vehicle (that’s me, by the way), is on the verge of being sold for scrap. I am in such a poor condition but he hasn’t had the eyes to notice the fact.  I’ve had parts replaced.  There’s been a lot of tinkering done over the years.  ‘Beyond Repair’ is a town I will be visiting pretty soon. 

He didn’t see me. Has hasn’t seen me. He will never have eyes for me.  It’s almost like a man who has eyes only for some other woman.  I don’t want to live forever. I know I’ve outlived my usefulness.  I want to die.  He is not letting me die an honorable death.  I want to be replaced too!  So kill me, Ranil!  Now!

*In a parallel universe of course

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