He walks with his words in unmapped territories

My father is a voracious reader, but I don’t recall him reading bedtime stories to us. I remember two occasions, though, when he sat us down and read. The first was when I was about five years old.  He had a Ladybird book open and was trying to teach us to read.  ‘B-L-A-C-K,’ he read out the letters, and asked ‘what’s the word’.  I didn’t know. Neither did my brother who was a year older.  Our sister, two years younger to me, was much smarter. ‘Black!’ she said and received much praise. 

There was a second occasion.  This was in the early eighties.  We knew how to read and we all read a lot.  We didn’t need anyone to read to us. He insisted.  He read the first chapter of ‘One Hundred Years of Solitude’. That was how Gabriel Garcia Marquez was introduced to us.  From then on I read everything he had written that I could place my hands on.  The one exception was ‘The General in his Labyrinth’.  I must have read the first few pages a dozen times.  I never got beyond for reasons I can’t explain. 

I remember a conversation that took place about ten years ago.  I had read Paulo Coelho’s ‘The Alchemist’ as had my wife Samadanie.  A friend, who was translating Coelho’s ‘By the River Piedra I Sat Down and Wept’ had given me a copy of the book, requesting that I check the translation.  I had got through about 15 pages when my wife started reading it.  We were both mesmerized by the language.  By the time we were done we were both disappointed however.  We both read it as just another version of ‘The Alchemist’.  She said ‘It’s true then what they say – you can only write one book’.  A moment later, she articulated a thought that was just crossing my mind, ‘Eth Marquez venas neda?’ (But Marquez is different, isn’t that true?). 

She and I have a special reason to be extra fond of Marquez because I had heard about this first year student at Peradeniya reading ‘One Hundred Years of Solitude’ and brought up the subject the first time I spoke to her.  It was nothing like Florentino Ariza (in ‘Love in the Time of Cholera’) writing love letter for illiterate lovers and finding that he was replying the letters he himself had written, but there was an Ariza element to that union. 

When she and I thought at the same time ‘marquez venas’ I was thinking of ‘Of Love and Other Demons’.  Before I read that book I had thought that Marquez had written everything there is to write on the subject of ‘love’ in ‘Love in the Time of Cholera’.  I was wrong.  And he didn’t stop there either.  He gave us additional dimensions in ‘Memories of my Melancholy Whores’. 

He was magical with his words and he was so real too.  Gabriel Garcia Marquez writes a book about several generations of a single family and gives us the entire political and economic history of Latin America.  Few can accomplish so much through a narrative that holds even if one is not sensitive to political and historical nuance. 

I remember reading a book called ‘Fragrance of Guava’ which was a series of interviews with Marquez by Plinio Apuleyo Mendoza where the Nobel Laureate reflected on a wide range of subjects.  I remember a response to a question on Neruda. I am paraphrasing here:  ‘He was a King Midas of literature; whatever he touched turned into poetry.  Even when he got himself into trouble over his political choices – he was a staunch supporter of Stalin – what he wrote was incredibly beautiful’.  Marquez was a Midas too.  Prose was his thing, but he wrote so beautifully that his stories were like epic poems.  It is hard to think of another writer who could be so lyrical in prose. Coelho, yes, but the man’s limited by what might be called the vattoruva or servility to format.  Simon Navagaththegama, among those who wrote in Sinhala, is no second-best to my mind.  There are probably others, but they don’t come to mind readily.  Marquez was a one-off, one tends to think. 

Marquez always needed a stack of fresh papers by his typewriter apparently.  If he got one word wrong, he would take the paper out and toss it into the wastepaper basket.  He would have written so much more if he was born in a Ctrl-C, Ctrl-X and Ctrl-V generation, one might think.  It doesn’t matter. He’s given so much. 

One day, he recalled, he had finished his work for the day and had come out of his room. His wife Mercedes Barcha had seen his ashen face and asked, ‘you killed him, didn’t you?’  Her husband had then wept by way of answer. For a long time.  The ‘victim’ was Colonel Aureliano Buendia, a character in whom resides many liberators and tyrants, lovers and womanizers, idealists and pragmatists that the continent has known and indeed the world has known. 

He’s done.  Dead.  Like Colonel Aureliano Buendia.  But then again, like the gypsy Melquíades who came from a past with no beginning and showed futures unimaginable, I can’t help thinking that news of his death is eyewash, forever unconfirmed. Colonel Aureliano Buendia still fights wars he is destined to lose, he still makes little fish out of gold, melts them all again only to craft the gold into fish again.  Garcia Marquez is like that.  He can’t be extinguished.  His words ensure this.  I think I will find him in ‘Of Love and Other Demons’ as Father Cayetano inflicted with the worst demon of them all, love, but never once complaining on account of the inevitable pain.  

msenevira@gmail.com 

Read more

The sun smiles to itself

I am a ‘can’t do without and wish it was not so’ kind of entity to most, especially to those living in a tiny island called Sri Lanka.  These days.  I am right ‘above’.  I have, for a few days at least, become a shadow-robber.  Now this is not exactly an island of people that worship me.  I am referred to in folk song and I there are expressions of gratitude as well as seeking of blessings at various points of the cultivation cycle, but that’s about it.  There are times I am needed badly.  There are times when some people think it would be nicer if I was blotted out by clouds. Rain clouds, that is. 

I look down and that’s not because I am ‘up’.   I am not ‘above’ in that there’s nothing and no one ‘below’.  Those terms of reference and locational ‘relationality’ have to do with perspective.  I could say that Planet Earth, tiny though it is, is sitting right above me and that the burning arrows of my light are shooting up and not down as is often claimed. 

But let’s leave the relativity aside.  Let’s talk of what I see. 

I see a people buzzing around like they’ve not buzzed around at any time in the past 12 months.  Sure, I see heightened human activity at different times in different places.  At Christmas.  The rare occasion when Sri Lankan sports teams secure a world championship.  Still, nothing like this. No, not in Sri Lanka.  They call it the Surya Mangalyaya or the Festival of the Sun, so I suppose that I am implicated in some way. 

I’ve seen it all before. Year after year, decades upon decades, centuries that bled into millennia.  In bad times and good.  During peaceful years and through miserable times of senseless blood-letting.  There were naturally poverty-stricken years. There were times of plenty.  Droughts and floods as well as splendid years when people and land were spared the convulsions of nature. 

I’ve seen it all.  And I’ve seen through it all.  There’s nothing like this at any other time of the year.  In all corners of this tiny island, there’s joy and renewal, freshness and hope, reconciliation and celebration.  They may call this day, this time, many names other than ‘Surya Mangalyaya’. 

They may give an identity tag such as ‘Sinhala’ or ‘Tamil’ or ‘Hindu’, but it is a moment and a celebration that so marks the vast majority of communities and is ingrained in their cultural DNA that it would be foolish to say that there’s anything that is more ‘Sri Lankan’.  Of course each community will color it with customs that have strong strains of the particularities of religious preference, but then again can anyone deny that these religions and not others have impacted the civilizational signature of this island and its people in degrees of unmistakable significance?  All that, however, can be dismissed as being ‘academic’.

What is telling is that there is no other moment when so many millions strike match to light hearth at the exactly the same moment and when so many millions partake of kiribath or milk-rice at exactly the same moment. 

That’s something.  Something unique.  Uniquely Sri Lankan.  It makes me smile.   

Read more

What next, a ban on laughter?

President Mahinda Rajapaksa knows how to smile.  Everyone knows this, even those who erroneously think that his biggest strength is his affable nature and the ease with which can interact with people from all walks of life. He can make a joke and he can take a joke. As is the case of all leaders he has had his share of lampooning. Indeed, in the age of the internet, he’s had it worse than his predecessors.  He has smiled through it all. 

It is certainly a person of character who can take a hit and still stand tall.  The stronger among us are endowed with both humility and a sense of humor.  Most importantly they can laugh at themselves and laugh with others even when the joke is less tasteful and perhaps unfair. They know that political satire is an inevitable in political life and are not fazed by it. 

Now it is true that not everyone is blessed with a sense of humor that helps overcome adversity and rise above poison pens and such.  Still, that’s hardly an argument for outlawing humor including political satire.  It is an inevitable and important part of a vibrant democracy. 

Take it out and it would be like Mahinda Rajapaksa without a smile.  It would not make a difference if he had never smiled, but a smile-less president would not only look different, it would be ‘news’ and indicative of many things political. 

We make these observations in light of something which is both laughable and also too serious to make jokes about.

On April 7 (Monday), the Lakbima newspaper published a photo caption on Page 8 of Ayoma Rajapaksa, the wife of the Secretary of the Defence Ministry at an event organized by the Seva Vanitha of the Civil Defence Force. She was there as the chief guest.  The photo shows her buying something from a stall and the caption read 'Hora Salli Nemeine...' (‘Not counterfeit notes, right?’ or ‘These are not counterfeit notes’).  The line makes sense only because of a recent discovery of a large cache of counterfeit currency indicating the existence of a sophisticated racket. 

It is clearly a witty line and would have elicited a laugh.  It alerted the public, thereby, to the issue.  All in all decent enough journalism, one would think. Few would conclude that it insinuated that either the lady or her husband was implicated in passing around counterfeit currency.  The simple truth is that the line would not work if it were, for example, a housewife offering a 100 rupee note to a mallun vendor at the pola. President Rajapaksa, one feels, would have laughed it off. 

Lakbima, for whatever reason, carried an apology on its front page the following day.  The sub editor who put the headline ‘irresponsibly’ was thereafter interdicted.  Now we can conclude that the line had escaped the editor’s eye.  If that’s the case and if the editor found it objectionable the apology can be called appropriate and the interdiction understandable. What happened thereafter, however, leads us to believe that someone outside that newspaper appears to have been hurt.   

Saman Wagarachchi, the Editor, was still summoned and questioned about the photo caption by the CID for several hours. According to Wagarachchi, the investigators had said they were questioning him due to the mentioning of forged notes. However, they refused to disclose who had made the complaint.  Police Spokesperson SSP Ajith Rohana, likewise, refused to divulge the identity of the complainant. 

This is ridiculous. If this run-of-the-mill line of lightheartedness is objectionable then cartoons would be out of order, satirical columns would have to be stopped. Collette, Wijesoma, Yoonus and other greats would have been out of jobs if the powers that be at the time they drew had dispositions as tender as that of the offended in this case.  We wouldn’t have been thrilled and educated by columns such as ‘King Barnett’, ‘Manige Theeruwa’, ‘Kasuruge Kolama’ etc.  ‘The Nation’ would have to drop its ‘lighter’ columns ‘View from Ritigala’, ‘Yakonet’ and ‘Meanwhile in a parallel universe’.  Editors would have to ensure that the end product is humor-free. 

That’s so not Sri Lanka, by the way.  We are a nation that is resilient and our resilience comes in part by our general ability to laugh things off and laugh at ourselves.  More seriously, though, this move by authorities to rap knuckles has to be roundly condemned on account of infringing upon media freedom. 

Saman Wagarachchi is a senior professional and is held in high esteem in the industry.  The line in question is at worst mischievous but any journalist and indeed most readers would call it ‘harmless’ if questioned on the matter. Readers would laugh and forget about it. Now they will find it hard to dismiss.  They will go ‘Aha!’ and ask themselves questions that are colored with suspicion.  That’s what over-zealous reaction does.

  

Best for all concerned to drop it, if necessary taking a cue from President Mahinda Rajapaksa.  This is Aluth Avurudda, the preeminent moment of national embrace.  It is for smile and laughter.  Let’s keep it that way. 

msenevira@gmail.com.

Read more

Ranil can win too and other tidbits

Ranil can win too

The Sri Lankan cricketers secured a world title after losing 4 finals (2 in the 50-over format and 2 in the T-20 version).  A string of defeats does not mean endless defeats. Victory is possible, the cricketers showed.  Ranil Wickremesinge and the UNP can take heart. Perhaps Sanath Jayasuriya should be consulted. He might give a few tips

Stop complaining about Ranil's defeats

It is customary for his detractors to chide Ranil Wickremesinghe on the number of electoral defeats that the UNP has suffered during his tenure as leader of the party.  The numbers themselves are inflated.  Each PC election is counted as one and if that logic is used then the number of electorates/districts lost at every general election and presidential election could swell the number of defeats several hundreds.  He's just lost a three general elections, two presidential elections and a few local government and provincial council elections.  But what's all that compared to the string of losses that Shyam Babu Subudhi can and does brag about?  The 78 year old Homeopathy doctor from Berhampur, Odissa has stood in every Indian parliamentary election since 1962 and lost everyone. He's not done yet. 

.  

The proof that Mahinda wants

Elections Commissioner Mahinda Deshapriya has vowed that the victory of any elected candidate would be overturned if he or she is proven to have violated election laws.  Was Deshapriya holed up in his office from the day the PCs were dissolved until the results were released? Did he not have access to the media?  Did he not check news on the internet?  'The Nation', for example, carried 'proof beyond a shadow of doubt' that laws had indeed been violated.  Will he or won't he act?  

That Leadership Council and this Leadership Council

Sri Lanka won the T-20 World Cup.  The official captain, Dinesh Chandimal was dropped.  The stand-in captain, Lasith Malinga, strode to the middle for the toss, but thereafter it was not he but a leadership council of sorts that handled the campaign.  There was Mahela, Kumar, Dilshan, Matthews and Malinga himself. Together they scripted a win against the team favoured to go home with the silverware, India.  So why can't the UNP do the same?  Well, there was one ingredient that favoured the cricketers: team-spirit.  Does the UNP know anything about the term 'team'? 

Tilvin's confession 

Tilvin Silva, General of the JVP, made a public statement. He said that this time the JVP has come forward with the blessings of the people.  Implied here is that all this time the JVP didn't have the blessings of the people.  Yes, the JVP has come a long way from pretending that it was representing the people to representing the people.  

The Sri Lankan vote on the Geneva vote

The loudest cheer-leader of the US-led Resolution on Sri Lanka in the UNHRC was Comrade Wickramabahu Karunaratne.  His party contested. Less than 0.05% in each province.  That should indicate the clout that self-appointed 'civil society' gurus have in this country, Navi Pillay are you listening?

Read more