Lester: A figure of the nation's destiny

Pic courtesy ft.lk

I haven’t watched many films with my father. Although he is an ardent consumer of all art forms, he rarely had the time to take us to the cinema, the theatre or for musical recitals. And yet, I distinctly remember how he made it a point to take us to see Sinhabahu and Maname, patiently guiding us along the story during the interval. I would have been around 10 years old at that time. I also remember how he took the family to see the films Rekava and Sandesaya. He was quite excited and as is his usual practice, gave us an introduction of sorts to the films, the kind of preamble that ambles along until it becomes virtually a history of Sinhala film.

That was the first time I heard of Lester James Peries. It took me at least a couple of decades more to understand more fully the worth of the man and I am still not sure if I really appreciate his contribution to our society as a writer, film-maker and a human being.

"I believe that the history of any national cinema is the history of the growth and development of its film makers — one is indistinguishable from the other". That observation was made long ago by Lester James Peries, writing about the American contribution to International Cinema. If that be the case, any historical account of Sinhala cinema would necessarily include several chapters on Lester himself, for today, given almost half a century of excellence in the field, Lester is probably one of the few people who cannot be written out of that script.

Lester was born on April 5th, 1919 in Dehiwala. "My mother frequently told me that I was actually born on the first, whenever I did something silly," said Lester, immediately demonstrating that he could laugh at himself, that rare quality which signifies the amount of territory won back from the enemy called arrogance. He had an older sister and two younger brothers, Ivan (an outstanding painter) and Noel (who became the Chief Engineer of Air Ceylon).

Their father, Doctor James Peries, had been mad on cricket and in fact had even played county cricket for Scotland. He was so hooked on the game that he had laid out a matting wicket in their garden. The children had therefore grown up in a strong cricketing culture to which Lester attributes his inability to "get out of the TV" when there is a cricket match being telecast.
Their mother, Winifred Grace Jayasuriya, had been quite dominating, and was the total opposite of her husband in terms of temperament. "She ran the house and she ran us, and thank God she did it!"

His father had been an Old Royalist, but his mother had insisted that they couldn’t afford to send their children to Royal and young Lester had ended up at St. Peter’s College, where he had come under the influence of Fr. Peter Pillai. Fr. Pillai had wanted Lester to become a priest. Lester had other ideas and had argued "Father, you need a vocation to become a priest". Fr. Pillai had retorted, "Nonsense! You decide to become a priest, much like you decide to become a doctor or an engineer. There is no heavenly character telling you what you should become!"

Having won all the prizes for writing at St. Peter’s, Lester was bent on becoming a writer. Just before sitting for his Matriculation exam, Lester had come under the influence of Lionel Wendt, who knew his brother Ivan, having bought one of his paintings. Lionel Wendt was putting out a fortnightly paper at that time called "Kesari".

"Lionel encouraged me to write for the Kesari. The paper carried good arts pages. Len Van Geyzel was the literary editor. He was a superb judge of writing. Wallace Stevens, the great American poet never published a poem without first showing it to Len. His standards were so high that they inhibited Len from writing.

"I was determined to become a writer, so I left college and refused to pursue my studies. For three years all I did was lock myself in my room and read, thinking I was teaching myself to write. I wrote for the Kesari and occasionally for the Times of Ceylon. I wrote the inevitable book of poems, "The Cathedral". I was greatly influenced by Dylan Thomas at that time. Lyn Ludowyk told me ‘You will improve with experience’ and when I asked him ‘In what way?’ he said ‘By living’. That book didn’t come out of genuine experience.

"My decision to become a writer came as a shock to my parents and they got Fr. Pillai to talk to me. He wanted to knock me out psychologically, obviously, for he asked ‘What makes you think you can write in English?’ He said, ‘eventually you will have to be a journalist. You will have to steal government documents. You are too timid to do that’."

Around that time Lester had got to do some freelance work for Radio Ceylon. He reviewed books for a programme called "Radio Bookshelf". "The first book I reviewed was ‘The Curtain of Green’ by Eudora Welty, which I had also reviewed for the Kesari. Then the war came and an English army man took charge of Radio Ceylon. He wanted to do radio plays and wanted me to write scripts."

Radio work had led Lester to form a theatre circle with Sali Parakrama, Sita Jayawardena, Vernon Abeysekera, Lorraine Forbes , Osmund Jayaratne, and Anandatissa de Alwis. We did several radio plays. I wrote a play called ‘A school for wives’ which was a flop. Most of the others went on to form The Drama Circle and took to the stage. I can’t remember if I was paid. Money was the last thing anyway. We did it out of love."

His brother Ivan had got a scholarship to study painting in London. His mother suggested that Lester go to London to see him. She had promised to give him an allowance for six months. He ended staying there for almost seven years.

"Looking back, I can say that those were the best years of my life. I was already writing on music, films and plays for the Times. The editor, Frank Moraes, asked me to contribute a piece once a week on the performing arts plus anything interesting in London. The Times had an office in Fleet Street. They had a staff of 18 people but only two in the editorial. John Hockin, who was at Lake House for a long time, had just been crimped by Times. Frank gave me a letter of introduction for I was asked to route the copy through the London office. Hockin would have read my copy, and he eventually hired me."

The career defining moment in Lester’s life had come when Hockin had asked him to interview Ralph Keene, a documentary film maker who was going to Ceylon to take charge of the Government Film Unit, as its Chief Producer. This was in 1952.

"At that time I had already made three amateur films with Hereward Jansz, a Sri Lankan born still photographer. We produced these experimental films with a 16mm movie camera which was purchased after trading in Hereward’s Speed Graphic camera. The first was called ‘Soliloquy’, which was about a painter. It won the Roger Manivell Award for best technical expertise at the Amateur Cine World Competition. This was followed by ‘Farewell to Childhood’ acclaimed as one of the 10 best films of the year."

At the end of the interview, Keene had asked Lester ‘aren’t you also making films?’ Apparently he had been one of the judges that had selected his film for the best technical expertise award. "He asked me what the hell I was doing in London when Ceylon is made for cinema! I told him that I didn’t want to join a government department. He said he had a free hand and promised that in a couple of years I would be doing my own documentaries."

"I couldn’t make up my mind to return. I was also married to an English girl at that time. My wife, Margaret, was the daughter of the owner of Sir Richard Steele, a pub near where we lived. My parents didn’t even know that I was married. Keene wrote to me every week, urging me to join him. He even promised me a salary at the highest point in the scale. All the money I earned from the paper went to make films. It was my wife who convinced me that it would be better to go back where I wouldn’t have to bear the cost of producing films, which is what I enjoyed doing anyway."

Coming back changed Lester’s life. "I would have been lost in London. Had I stayed back, I would have been running a tobacconist’s shop. I told my parents about Margaret. They were naturally shocked. She joined me after two months and although my family welcomed her warmly, it was not easy for her to adjust to life in this country. She went back after two years on the understanding that I would return to England in a couple of years. But I knew I had already come home and also around that time there were the first hints of a feature film".

The third "figure of destiny", as Lester likes to call the characters who influenced his life, following Wendt and Keene, was his cousin Christopher Peries. "Christopher wanted to create a company to make feature films. He said he had already spoken to people who would put in the money and promised to give me a free hand. I said I have to think about it, and he said he would give me a week to make up my mind."

"My colleagues, Willie Blake, who was an assistant cameraman and Titus Totawatte, who was an apprentice, encouraged me to take up the offer, saying they would leave with me. My boss at that time, P. Nadesan didn’t want me to leave. My parents were horrified because a government job was the pinnacle, and they couldn’t understand why I wanted to quit, especially since I was doing what I liked."

Just as he believes there are ‘figures of destiny’, Lester also believes that destiny does not have an agenda. Like most creative artists, perhaps he was driven by a certain spontaneity and had the instinct to seek spaces conducive to the full flowering of the creative urge.

"My feel was more for fiction, people, characters, human beings. So I jumped. The registered offices of Chitra Lanka Ltd., was 223 Bloemendhal Road, i.e. where the Island is now located. This is where I wrote the script for Rekava and interviewed and cast the characters. The Chairman was Chandra (Sarath) Wijesinghe, Upali Wijewardena’s uncle. George Chitty, QC, and H. W. Jayewardene, QC, were the other directors. Aubrey Collette was the artistic advisor.

"We never realised what we were going to be in for. I wrote the mother’s role for Iranganie Serasinghe. The little boy had never seen a camera before. We got some Tower Hall people involved. All we wanted was to make a good film for the local market. We were not thinking of Cannes, Berlin or even the Maldives! It took us a year to make the film. Sound was a nightmare. We lit Rs. 6000 worth of crackers to chase away the crows. There were marvellous reviews, but the film failed financially. The audience just couldn’t understand. I even included six songs of Sunil Shantha."

However, something happened which in a way salvaged the film. Maria Schell, the famous German actress, happened to be holidaying in Ceylon and she had wanted to see a local film. She had been taken to the Roxy, where Rekava was being screened.

"She was due to leave in two days. The very next day she gave an interview to the Observer and said that the film has to be sent to Cannes. The Directors of the company agreed to take it to Cannes. There we got good reviews and 4 sales, the French, the Germans, British and Russian buying it.

Sarath, who was a staunch supporter of SWRD, left and became President of the Senate. The others were lawyers, the film had failed, so they decided to close down. This was a big mistake. My next film, Sandesaya, was made for the 10th anniversary of Cinemas. Gunaratnam wanted a prestige film, he said ‘Lester, I don’t mind losing money on it’. Sandesaya ended up minting money! The royalties for the song ‘Purothugeesi Karaya’ would have earned him more than one lakh. One hundred and thirty two copies were made. In fact copies were made until the original negative went to pieces!"

It was during the time of that first submission to the Cannes Festival that Lester met Sumithra, that other ‘figure of destiny’ in his life. Sumithra had been staying with Dr. Vernon Mendis, who was the Charge- d’Affaires in France.

"Titus and I were staying in the hotel opposite his house and he invited us to stay with him. Rekava was the first Sinhala film that Sumithra had seen. I already knew her brother and he had wanted me to advise her about her studies. She wanted to study cinema and I recommended that she go to London. We did Gamperaliya in 1963 and married in 1964."

Including Rekava, Lester has made twenty feature films. Twenty films over forty five years meant that Lester would have been out of work for long periods of time. Most of the property he inherited was used to make films. I asked him what he considers to be his best film. "I am inclined to say, ‘my next film’" he quipped.

"Rekava is special. It is like the first love. Gamperaliya changed our lives. People say that my next film, Wekande Walawwa, is the best. I can’t really judge my films, because I am too close to them."

Lester has been honoured with the title Kalasuri in the first round of such awards in the early eighties. He was won countless awards locally and internationally for his films. The one he cherishes most is the "Legion of Honour" conferred by the French Government, "for the enrichment of film-making". He was honoured in the highest category of "Commander". In the year 2000, the Indian Government honoured him with an award for lifetime achievement in film-making. 
The first such award for foreign film-makers had been given to Bertolucci the previous year. The award for 2001 was to be given to Bergman. Excellent company to be in, certainly.

And yet this man, who perhaps deserves the "needs no introduction" qualifier prior to biographical sketch than anyone else, insists that his contribution to cinema pales in comparison to what cinema did to him.

"I didn’t come into this to get awards. Cinema salvaged me. It brought me to my roots. I had a western education. I was born into a staunch Roman Catholic family. This was two removes from the heartbeat of my people. It was cinema that allowed me to get this close to my country and my people."

He refused to take credit for what most people consider to be the excellence he personifies in the industry. "Film-making is a complicated, co-ordinated effort. The analogy that comes to mind is an orchestra. The film director is like a conductor. He has to interpret a script with a whole group of people."

His humility is probably his most endearing quality. Like all great personalities, he obviously considers himself a student. For Lester, books are like an extension of his body. "I lost the sight of one of my eyes. I dread losing my other eye too, not because I would not be able to see films anymore, but because I would never be able to read again".

According to Lester, there’s a lot more to know about films. He was not talking about just the technological aspects. "Take the ‘Blair Witch Project’ which was made using the most primitive technology, considering we are in the digital age. Clearly there are many secrets in the media. Cinema is still only 100 years old. We are still in the initial stages."

What makes a master in any field a giant, I believe, is his commitment to learning and even more important, his commitment to teaching. Lester has over the years nurtured many a young film maker. I asked him about the future and who among the new directors held the most promise. "When people ask me that question, I tell them that the future of Sinhala film is Prasanna Vithanage. He is disciplined, gifted and a precision worker. Asoka Handagama represents another stream. He is exploring along new avenues and is also doing very important work, this is why I worked hard to promote his last film."

Writing about the pioneering American film maker, David Wark Griffith, Lester made the following observation: "If every medical blotter, every poster on the wall bears the imprint of Picasso’s great inventive genius in design and colour, and every music score in the cheapest B grade movie echoes the rhythms of Stravinsky, then each time we pick up a camera and make a film, wherever we are, we are paying our own tribute to a great master".

Not everyone rises to be worthy of such homage. Lester James Peries, if anyone, deserves such tribute. Growing up, we inevitably encounter Martin Wickramasinghe a personality who according to Lester, was on the same wave length, "although I have less of the political edge". At some point, Sarachchandra and Amaradeva arrive. Perhaps Chitrasena too, although his art is less preservable that the others I have mentioned. Then there is Lester James Peries, whose treatment of the human subject opens a kaleidoscope of windows through which, if we are patient and humble, we can discover those things which help make us more sensitive human beings.

[First published in the Sunday Island on January 20, 2002]

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The long road to ‘Gold’ at the Chess Olympiad

It’s a long way from Colombo to Tromso.  Indeed, a few years ago none who undertook the journey to the distant fishing ‘village’ in the northern part of Norway would have heard the name.  That is, not until FIDE, the world body governing chess announced that the 2014 Chess Olympiad would be held there.  The journey was long.  It was arduous too because a cash-strapped Chess Federation had to arrange a flight + train + bus journey.  There were no tickets by the time the visas came through.  In fact the manager got his visa so late that the team left without him.  He left the following day, but due to fortuitous scheduling of trains, arrived in Tromso just a few hours after the team did.

No one complained.   They took a flight to Stockholm, followed by a 22 hour train ride to Narvik, Norway and a 4 hour bus ride to Tromso.  They still managed to arrive a day before the tournament started without any loss of enthusiasm.  Sri Lanka fielded a solid team which included three national champions, G.C. Anuruddha (who was playing in his 6^th Olympiad), Chamika Perera (National Champion 2011) and Isuru Alahakoon (National Champion 2012, 2013 and 2014), the last two playing in their second Olympiad.  It was Prasanna Kurukulasuriya’s first Olympiad but he has been consistently among the top 10 players in Sri Lanka for more than a decade now.  Rajeendra Kalugampitiya, currently the No 1 blitz and rapid player in Sri Lanka, first played in the Olympiad in 2006 when he was a schoolboy.  This was his second Olympiad.

There was also a women’s team, led by Anuththara Chandrasiri of Girls’ High School, Kandy.  They performed creditably, winning 5 and losing 6 of their matches.  This story, however, is about the men’s team, competing in the Open Section. 

The team had been put through a tough training program organized by the Federation which secured the services of a top coach from Greece, Efstratios Grivas.  He spent two weeks in Sri Lanka and the players agree that this was the best preparation they had seen in many years.  Grivas, a key member of FIDE’s training program, was at hand in Tromso to help the team.  He spent a vital 2 hours with them every morning, going through the games they had played and helping them prepare for the particular opponents in the afternoon.   Most importantly, he infused a sense of purpose and gave the players ample confidence especially when they took on opponents with higher ratings.  None of the players would ever be intimated by titles such as Grandmaster (GM) or International Master (IM). 

Sri Lanka was ranked 120^th in a field of 172 teams.  The team didn’t have a single IM or GM.  They ended 74^th.   That leap was enough to secure a Gold for the team according to the tournament format which offered ‘category prizes’ for the best performing teams in 5 different rating-related segments.  It was tough going all the way.  As the coach pointed out, there are no bad teams, everyone comes to play chess and you have to be totally focused in order to win. 

Sri Lanka’s low ranking assured a strong opponent in the first round.  Sweden, ranked 34^th, had 4 GMs.  Sri Lanka lost 1-3, Alahakoon and Kalugampitiya drawing their respective games, the latter actually missing a relatively easy win.  Sri Lanka beat Honduras (125^th) 3-1 in the next round but lost to 66^th Ranked Scotland in the 3^rd round, 1-3. Scotland boasted of 2GMs.  Anuruddha drew with one of them while Alahakoon drew with FIDE Master Alan Tate.  The loss gave Sri Lanka a weaker opponent in the 4^th round, Malawi (134^th).  A 3-1 win saw Sri Lanka being paired with Venezuela (61^st) in the 6^th round. Venezuela, with 1 GM and 1 IM had a tough time.  Mistakes under pressure saw what ought to have been a  2.5-1.5 victory turn into a 1.5-2.5 defeat.  Anuruddha drew against an IM while Chamika defeated an FM. 

The pattern of loss followed by victory was wrecked when Sri Lanka defeated Afghanistan 4-0 and Jamaica 2.5-1.5 in the next two rounds.  It was at this point that Sri Lanka became a contender for the category prize.  The next two assignments, however, were tough.  Finland, ranked 56^th with a GM and 2 IMs, defeated Sri Lanka 4-0 while Sri Lanka went down to 55^th ranked Bangladesh 1-3.  In the latter match, had opportunities not been squandered, a draw or even a victory might have been possible. 

It all came down to the last round.  Sri Lanka was drawn to play New Zealand, a team with 3 IMs and ranked 44 spots higher.  Kurukulasuriya lost relatively quickly on Board 1, adding pressure to the other 3 players.  Anuruddha got into difficulties but fought as tenaciously as he had throughout the tournament to secure a draw.   He remained the only unbeaten player in the team and won an FM title for his efforts.  Chamika and Isuru battled hard to score memorable wins over considerably higher ranked players.  They held their nerve although down to a few seconds on the ‘clock’, unfazed even by the huge commotion caused by a Swiss player collapsing with a heart attack. 

That 2.5-1.5 win pushed Sri Lanka marginally higher than Lebanon on the tie break for the category prize.  There was jubilation, naturally, for Sri Lanka had not won a category prize in over 30 years.  The entire team put it down to better preparation courtesy the foresight of the Federation to secure Mr Grivas’ services.  The players themselves kept their motivational levels high despite setbacks, determined to do their best without being intimated by players stronger on paper. 

Anuruddha, in particular, brought all his experience into play.  Isuru Alahakoon, the team’s captain, gets the credit for both his excellent play and for convincing his teammates that the team should not be happy with consolation prizes of securing the odd draw with a GM or IM, instead they should aim to win the particular match.  Kurukulasuriya, handed the toughest assignment of playing on Board 1, played game after tough game without complaint.  Chamika Perera offered solidity on Boards 2 and 3, while Kalugampitya was gracious to acknowledge form loss.  This did not stop him from constantly backing his team and reveling in their victories.  It was, in this sense, an excellent team effort.  A well deserved Gold. 

[The writer accompanied the team as Manager cum Non-Playing Captain]

     

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The party is over

There are parties and there are coalitions.  We’ve seen both rise and fall, falter and prosper.  There are party candidates and there are common candidates. We’ve seen both types and both have tasted success and failure. 

Common fronts were not uncommon in the period before J R Jayewardene came up with the Second Republican Constitution in 1978 with proportional representation, executive presidency and a lot of other things that are part and parcel of what’s now called ‘the democracy deficit’ in the country.  The UNP itself was a coalition, as was the MEP that ousted it in 1956.  There were no-contest pacts. There were official ‘fronts’ too.  The UNP and SLFP of course remained key factors in electoral politics after the 1978 constitution ‘kicked-in’, electorally, but both parties have needed props be it a general or presidential election.  

The last ‘pure’ party candidate of any consequence was Ranasinghe Premadasa, but even he needed the convoluted support of the JVP in that the destabilization and vote-and-die threats mouthed by that party affected Premadasa less than it did his principal opponent.  He even had Ossie Abeygoonesekera ripping off a fair number of opposition votes – Ossie would join the UNP soon after the presidential election of 1988. 

Since then, be in parliamentary or presidential, winning elections have been about getting the coalition right.  In the case of parliamentary elections, the proportional representation system has made coalitions logical.  In presidential elections, given the obvious benefits enjoyed by an incumbent who contests, it is the opposition that has to think of candidate-suitability in terms of cobbling together a coalition.  Mahinda Rajapaksa, in 2005, didn’t have the open endorsement of his party leader.  He obtained the support of the nationalists and the left parties.  Wickremesinghe had minority parties on his side, as did Sarath Fonseka in 2010. 

We are in 2014 and this political moment is full of coalition talk.  The focus is on fielding ‘a common candidate’ against Mahinda Rajapaksa.  It is in this context that the validity of ‘party’ (as opposed to coalition) has to be examined.   More specifically, the suitability of particular candidates in particular coalitions, have to be assessed. 

There’s talk that the Bodu Bala Sena might field a candidate.  As of now it seems more rhetoric than anything else. As in the case of single (and small) political entities winning is not the issue – robbing votes is.  In the case of the BBS, one would say ‘insignificant’ at this point. Of greater interest are the moves by Ven Maduluwawe Sobitha Thera, the insistence on common program first rather than candidate name, whether or not the JVP would support a UNPer posing as ‘common candidate’ etc. 

In 2010 it was easy.  The incumbent was strong and losing face was the priority for both the UNP and JVP.  They played Sarath Fonseka for a sucker quite successfully. Today, many in the opposition believe that the right candidate is in with more than an outside chance.  Ranil Wickremesinghe cannot be faulted for believing that his time has come, finally.  The JVP, however, has stated that it would not back him.  If the opposition is really keen on winning then this is hardly the time to harden positions.  The focus on program is positive but announcing candidacy is unhealthy. 

Mahinda Rajapaksa was as common a candidate as one could get on the other side of the political equation.  He was a member of the SLFP but we haven’t heard that party’s name much in the past 20 years.  That coalition was about program and personality, but not about party name or symbol.  There’s a lesson to be learned there, obviously.  Fixations on either make for fissure and not unity.  Rajapaksa was fresh. So was Chandrika Kumaratunga.  Wickremesinghe has a handicap in that area. 

Thus, even though it makes sense for the common candidate to be from the UNP in the event that the opposition cannot come up with a credible name outside of ‘party circles’, others in the party have to be considered too while keeping in mind that the supporting cast can have reasonable reservations about name and symbol.   Fonseka’s failure showed up the immense disadvantages of a party-less person when taking on an incumbent who still has considerable mass appeal despite regime-fatigue, lawlessness, unpardonable wastage and perceptions of dynastic preoccupations. 

As things stand, the familiar bickering, reiteration of preferred position, too many people and groups pulling in too many directions do not produce a positive picture of the process.  It is not a knot that is easily untangled admittedly.   As pointed out, the wiser thing at this stage would be to focus on program.  Dropping fixations about party name and symbols would help.  Stating the non-negotiable has to come much later if at all. 

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Sajith Premadasa's move(s)

The faith of South Asian people in dynastic rule is astounding considering all the braggadocio about democratic traditions.  There have been the odd ‘outsider’ of course but by and large the political stories of India, Pakistan, Sri Lanka, Bangladesh and as of late the Maldives have been about fathers, mothers, daughters, sons, brothers and sisters.  It’s not a two generation thing either, for there are grandparents and grandchildren as well. 

And it’s not just head of state we are talking about.  Dynastic aspiration is something prevalent across the board and at all levels.  We see it in local government bodies, provincial elections and even within political parties.  It can’t be the political fascination of the powerful or those who crave power.  Sure, they tend to have lots of money or draw from moneyed backers and this helps secure votes, but that’s exactly the point – unlike monarchies where there’s no-sweat succession, here you have to be voted in.  Well, it looks like the general public is not averse to dynasty. 

What this has produced, naturally, is for the progeny of politicians to operate as though they are endowed with some kind of ‘gene right’ to power.  The legitimacy or at least the logic of Sajith Premadasa’s political ambitions can perhaps be explained by the obvious ‘genetic edge’ and an electorate that is confused about monarchy and democracy.  What is important is for Sajith, the United National Party and the nation as a whole to check if the prince-in-waiting has king-credentials on non-genetic counts. 

He’s been in Parliament for 14 years. That’s long, after all Chandrika Kumaratunga became President with just a fraction of that ‘experience’.  He left the comfort zone of his father’s electorate and built a base far away in Hambantota.  He has decent crowd-puller credentials.  He is accepted either as the Best Bet or as the Next-Best-Thing of the party by the majority in the UNP.  Part of it is of course ‘default’ on account of real or perceived incompetency and authoritarian tendencies of the leader, Ranil Wickremesinghe.  Still, Sajith seems the best pick as of now even if gene-right and default-clause are discounted.  Is it enough, though?

Sajith’s political record has a less than attractive underside though.  He wanted to oust his leader.  He once said that the only person who can unite the party was Karu Jayasuriya.  When the party leader agreed to set up a leadership council, Sajith opposed the move.  Today, it is reported that he is willing to be No 2 to Wickremesinghe provided that the Leadership Council be abolished. He would support Wickremesinghe in a presidential campaign and this would certainly boost the UNP’s chances. However, all things considered, it won’t be enough to defeat Mahinda Rajapaksa.  

Sajith would want Ranil to be the candidate of a common opposition, contesting under the elephant symbol.  That’s a recipe for keeping out other sections of the opposition, effectively strengthening the incumbent.   It doesn’t take much to figure out that No 2 can make a bid to be No 1 should No 1 lose out on yet another presidential bid.  It would be a win-win situation.  One thing is clear in this history: inconsistency.  It makes him just another ordinary politician. 

There is another problem.  Sajith doesn’t seem to understand the meaning of gratitude. The man he wants to oust, Ranil Wickremesinghe, was one of the few who supporter his father Ranasinghe Premadasa during the dark days of the impeachment motion of 1991.  Karu Jayasuriya was similarly a staunch supporter of his father.   In politics there are no permanent friends or enemies, this is known.  Nevertheless Sajith’s machinations at various times against Wickremesinghe and Jayasuriya have been crude and motivated by greed. 

As of now, gene-right notwithstanding, Sajith Premadasa’s politics can be described as one of taking IOUs from the rich to dole out money to the poor.  If he ever comes to power there will be many waiting in line to cash these checks. 

There is nothing to say that he won’t change, become better and acquire some statesmanlike qualities of course.  Then again, he’s close to 50 now and no longer ‘young’.  Maturity ought to have made an appearance by now.  As of now, therefore, his moves can only be read as outcomes of other people’s plans, designed for their benefit and not necessarily Sajith’s or the UNP’s. 

Genes count in South Asia, yes.  Not all, though.  And not all the time.   Sajith Premadasa looks like one not destined to live up to genetic potential.  Unless of course he becomes consistent, obtains a better understanding of himself and learns that although gratitude might not add up to much, it can tip the scales in his favor.  Time will tell.

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Would you like to be the rain?

Nanda Malini’s ‘Pawana’ was dated.  For the most part.  It was a period-relevant album.  It swept across the smouldering hearts of some sections of the Sri Lankan youth in the late eighties.  That album was a rough cut and deliberately so.  It was irresponsible in a way because Nanda Malini and her lyricists ought to have known better the kinds of heart and minds that would embrace the songs and in what way. 

There is a reason why the songs in ‘Shravanaaradhana’, ‘Yathra’ and ‘Sathyaye Geethaya’ are remembered and those in ‘Pawana’ are not.  The other day quite by chance I ‘caught’ one song from the album while I was flipping radio stations.  ‘Vahinnata hekinam’ (If I could rain..).  I thought back on ‘Pawana’ and found that there was only one other song that I remembered: ‘Sanda Eliya Gangak Wee’ (Moonlight like a river..).  I felt these two songs compensated adequately for the rest of the collection. 

‘Pawana’ was a call to action.  It was not a lyrical appeal but an unadulterated command with a threat, ‘if you are not with me, you are with them; if you don’t act, you are complicit’.  It was not spelled out in those terms, but that’s how it was read by its principal interpreters and those who popularized the album.  ‘Vahinnata hekinam’ was different though.

I thought and thought about ‘revolutionary’ songs, the literature that brings people to politics and about the literature that politics direct them towards.  I am sure everyone has his/her favourite ‘Radical Song’, that radicalizing score and verse which invariably bring smile and even tear upon recollection whilst spending the cynical years.  I am not sure what came first, literature or politics, but they sure did and do feel one another.  I remembered Gunadasa Kapuge’s ‘Sabanda api kandu novemu’ (Friend, let us not be like mountains).   

Both these songs were not about the how of political action. They were about why.  They championed a way of being, spoke of choice and recommended in an unobtrusive manner.  It was so gentle that the message just seeped through skin and was deposited in the tender marrow of sensibility, not for a day or year, not for that shining hour of sacrifice, glory and poetic commemoration, but for the day-in-day-out of lifetime and beyond. 

Why be like mountains trying to outreach each other, when we can be like a family of clear springs flowing into one large river, Kapuge asks.  Why be like a nightmare that disturbs a child’s sleep when you can be a song that awakens a nation from a deep slumber, he asks again.  Let us not be like the insane flame that sets fire to the thicket, but be like the soft rain that falls upon and douses such fires, he recommends.

Nanda Malini’s ‘Wahinnata hekinam’ echoes the same sentiments: ‘If only I could rain from above drought-scorched terrain, if only I could cook like a pot of rice in a hut where rice is not getting cooked!’

Looking back, it is clear we had a choice and we as a generation and a society of challengers and defenders, and all those who were caught in the clash of weaponry because they were born in the wrong decade or found themselves at the wrong place suffered to the tune of 60,000 deaths.  That was not a time of soft rain falling, but one of rain forest youth being cut down and burnt; not a time of rice-cooking but frying alive of hope and dream. 

Through it all, I cannot help feeling, that a cart was put before a horse; that literature was approached through politics and therefore only its ‘purely political’ message was extracted and its larger call for recognition and exploration of humanity was missed or ignored or both. 

I remember a medical student from Peradeniya.  He was not inclined to engage in politics. He played chess. He was a voracious consumer of literature, English, Sinhala and translations of books published in the Soviet Union. He loved all kinds of music.  He cultivated a taste for classical music.  He was caught in the fires of the late eighties.  The political visited his heart and left him without a choice.  He became an activist and an organizer. He was in charge of a sector. Not a single person under him was arrested because he assigned only such tasks that fell within that person’s capacities and political readiness.  As a result he had to take greater risks.  He was arrested. Beaten. Fortunately this happened before mis-directed ill-winds turned smouldering coals into raging fires.  He was released. He left Sri Lanka. He is not a well-established surgeon.  I think it all happened this way and not any other because he came to politics through art and not the other way about. 

He was, sadly, the exception.  The ‘rule’ was his polar opposite.  At some point, in the rush of blood and power, the intersection of righteous objection and political necessity, the dissolve of courage and conviction, the encounter of self with mirror, there must have been too many mismatches, an overdose of delusion and of course the reality of encountering forces beyond one’s strength to overcome or resist. 

These songs were powerful.  Tender.  I am not sure if we really caressed their substance.  Time passes. Those who were young grow old.  Some become cynical, some remain fresh.  We all realize that things change.  Slowly.  We cannot force those who come afterwards to learn from our errors.  We can only hope. 

I think every individual has to figure out what’s best for him/her and needs to locate him/herself in a larger collective and inquire into and understand the dimensions of that larger entity within him/herself.  I can speak for myself, that’s all.  Right now, I am thinking of literature. People. Collectives. Two songs play in my heart: ‘Sabanda api kandu novemu’ and ‘Wahinnata hekinam’.  I return again to something I wrote 6 years ago. 

I am convinced that the revolution begins with poetry and that it ends with the abandonment of love.  I say, therefore, ‘let there be rain, a soft drizzle; let it fall on barren, drought-ridden territories and let it be me.’

msenevira@gmail.com

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Mahela's retirement stumps SLC (for a while)

‘Mahela has retired from Test Cricket,’ the President announced.   He might have expected a few seconds of silence as warranted by the gravity of the matter.  That’s not because Mahela’s exit might precipitate a downturn in Sri Lanka’s cricketing fortunes; it is a loss but hardly guarantees a string of defeats.  He might have expected silence on account of how great Mahela has been and his stature in cricketing circles especially in the dressing room and his on-field presence.  

‘Not news!’ the Secretary chipped in immediately drawing a sharp and irritated glace from the President.

‘He’s old, relatively speaking.  He still has his full array of strokes and he still reads the game as astutely as he always did.  Still, time takes a toll, I suppose,’ a lesser administrator opined. 

‘He probably felt that he has passed his peak.  The gracious thing to do when you believe you’ve outlived your usefulness is to step out,’ another administrative survivor with a philosophical bent observed. 

‘It’s all relative,’ someone quipped. ‘Theoretically if his average over the last 6-12 months or the last 10 tests puts him among the top 5-6 performers I think you could say he’s still useful.’

‘Interesting that you came up with the utility notion,’ the President said scratching his chin thoughtfully.

‘Yes,’ the relativist continued enthusiastically, ‘if Mahela thinks it is time to quit then a bunch of others should have retired a long time ago!’ 

‘But usefulness is just one factor when considering retirement,’ the Secretary said.  ‘Some people are in this for bucks.  If they keep rolling in, why quit?  You can’t have enough of a good thing.’

‘You should know!’ someone grunted under his breath, but he was heard by enough people in the room to provoke a bout of giggles.

‘Well, forget the money, some people retire because they want to spend more time with their families or because they’ve lost the passion for the game or because they are simply exhausted. Some even have breakdowns.  We know what happened to Trescothick,’ the Secretary clearly interested in a long innings batted on and on and on. 

‘Shall we ask ourselves some of these questions?’ the philosopher asked softly.

‘What questions?’ the President was confused.

‘Well, have we outlived our usefulness?  Have we lost the passion?  Are we reluctant to say “no” to a good thing?  Do we want to spend more time with our families?  Are there others who are worse and is this why we remain where we are in Sri Lanka Cricket?’

There was silence.  Awkward silence.

The Secretary broke it.

‘Mahela knows best what’s good for him.  We know best what’s good for us.  That’s all we know and all we need to know.’

Smiles all around.  Even from the philosopher and the relativist.

‘All’s well that ends well, eh?’ the President got the last word.    

*All this in a parallel universe...

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The 'un-retiring class' and other tidbits

'The 'un-retiring class'

Mahela Jayawardena retired from Test cricket.  He said his piece.  He talked of being privileged to play alongside great cricketers.  He showed class. And someone said 'class never retires'.  True.  There are classes and classes.  The working class may want to retire but can't. The privileged classes can retire but won't.  Men and women come and go, politicians and political parties have their days in the sun and days in the wilderness.  Through it all, class stays.  Put.  

The beauty of salons

There is a big scandal about beauty culture.  Apparently some unqualified and/or incompetent people are making big money selling 'beauty'.  They could be called 'beauty quacks' one supposes. And now the state is moving into regulating beauty-treatment facilities.  We need such facilities. Beauty is only skin deep, they say.  So if you get the skin right a lot of ugliness can be hidden. Works for people, works for cities too.  And if regulation can weed out quacks who claim they can undo ugliness, there should be regulations for people engaged in other kinds of beautification too.

What color is a refugee?

The court of appeal has put a halt to the deportation of Afghan, Pakistani and Iranian 'refugees' before their asylum claims are fully assessed.  There's a problem of definition here.  It seems that refugees are all brown people.  The truth is that refugees come in all colors.  We had lots of white refugees fleeing disease, religious and political persecution ending up in what's now called the USA.  We had 'undesirables' sent to 'colonies' -- convicts to Australia and bad eggs to South Asia and other parts of the world.  They all became quite respectable.  This has stopped.  But there are people who come to places like Sri Lanka who would never get noticed if they were back home.  Journalists, for example.  INGO personnel. UN workers.  They are all refugees, one might say.  No one is calling them that.  No one is asking them to leave.  They don't have to get stay orders from the courts.  White privilege?

What's wrong with Ranil?

The JVP has said that it will field a presidential candidate but only in the event that UNP leader Ranil Wickremesinghe decides to contest.  Strange decision for a self-proclaimed 'Marxist' party.  What's so special about Ranil, one might ask.  Is it that the JVP dreads a scenario where Ranil is President and would do its best to bring him down (by dividing the opposition vote, for example)?  Does the JVP think that a candidate fielded by the party would get more votes than Ranil (and even more than, say, Mahinda Rajapaksa)?  Is the JVP rooting for Sajith?  Is the JVP a pawn of the UPFA, in a convoluted kind of way?  Lots of questions for Comrade Anura to answer here, that much is evident.  

Kumar David's New Maths"I swear I am not a conspiracy theorist by inclination or habit, but this event to me was a probe, a first flying of the kite, an initial floating of a proposal to introduce Champika Ranawaka as presidential material. But for his chauvinist reputation – I don’t hold it against him that in 1970 or 1971 he belonged to a chauvinist student group that broke up our Vama Samasamajaya anti-JVP assembly in one of the campuses – he is more competent and credible than discredited Mahinda," says Kumar David who clearly doesn't know arithmetic (Champika would have been 5-6 in 1970/71), but then again when it comes to politics he consistently puts 2 and 2 together and ends up in the negative, even though one would expect more from an engineer and one with a doctorate!

Where were the 'boys'?

The TNA wants the UN to find out if human rights were violated by UNP and SLFP governments (or governments led by those parties) since 1974.  Now why is the TNA not asking the UN to check out the LTTE while they are at it?  Are Sampanthan, Sumanthiran and the leader-in-waiting Premachandran suffering from selective amnesia?  Is it that they are now slaves to pro-LTTE funders abroad just as they were slaves to Prabhakaran back in the day?

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