Suku’s family and heart

On the 8th of May, 2020 a new building was opened in a simple ceremony at the Infectious Diseases Hospital (IDH). Built at a cost of Rs 15 million, it provides comfortable accommodation for 32 nurses. The story in brief is as follows.

When the National Task Force on Covid-19 was informed that there was a serious accommodation issue at the IDH, General Daya Ratnayake, former Army Commander and current Chairman, Ports Authority, had immediately decided that the problem could be resolved. He contacted his friends in the Royal College Old Boys of the East Coast (USA). The RCOBEC Foundation immediately agreed to raise the funds. Personnel of the Ports Authority and the Air Force came together to handle the construction. All done in a matter of a few weeks.

We have seen the citizens of this country rise to the occasion whenever the country faced great perils. As such, we should not be surprised about any of this. Some give a lot, some little. Each according to his or her ability. And yet, there’s something special about this gift and it is not in the amount.

(Rtd) General Daya Ratnayake detailed the process and the Minister of Health Pavithra Wanniarachchi made an impassioned speech, both remarkable in their own way. A person by the name of Lasantha Fernando spoke during the opening ceremony. He spoke a few words, literally. He was invited to speak as ‘a representative of Dr Sukumar Nagendran’s family.’ Sukumar, or ‘Suku’ as he is to his friends, is the current President of the said Foundation. Suku and his wife Ann, whose philanthropy is legendary,  hadn’t thought twice about helping out.

Lasantha noted that the audience might wonder how he and Suku were ‘related.’ What he essentially said was that the commonality and relatedness had to do with humanity and not bloodline.

Not that the ‘bloodline’ has lacked humanity of course. Dr Neesha Rockwood, Suku’s cousin and a Consultant HIV Physician trained and specialized in London with a PhD in HIV/Tuberculosis with years of experience working South Africa, now based at at the Faculty of Medicine, Colombo University, explained. She spoke of their ancestors. Her great great grandfather, Dr W G Rockwood was the Chief Surgeon of the Colombo General Hospital for 20 years. The Rockwood Memorial Hall was donated by the family to the hospital in his name. Suku’s grandfather Dr Saga Tyagaraja who trained at Cambridge University was a prominent Microbiologist at the Colombo City Microbiological Laboratory.

They’ve given heart and soul to their work and their fellow citizens no doubt. Just like Suku, whose philanthropic projects cut across all communities and have been implemented across the length and breadth of the island.

Heart. That’s a key word. Former President of the Foundation Rukshan Perera, who read out Suku’s message, had composed a song for the occasion. ‘Our hearts are still there,’ the title says it all.

‘We learnt of books and men, we learnt to play the game, we thank those who taught us to be kind and humane, we will always care and always share, ‘cos our hearts are still there, in Sri Lanka,’ (even though they live in New York).

It was not just a gift. It was appreciation. The Foundation recognized the immense efforts and sacrifices of the armed forces and healthcare workers. ‘[They] carry us on [their] shoulders, through day and night…[and are] the unsung heroes in Sri Lanka,’ Rukshan added. It’s a token of gratitude, according to Suku: ‘we attribute our success abroad to our years of rigorous and free education in Sri Lanka, where we were taught the value of integrity, teamwork, tenacity and unconditional service for the betterment of humanity.’

The Minister caught the line from the song on unsung heroes in expressing her thanks to Suku and his friends. She also drew from  Lasantha’s and Neesha’s remarks about family and heart, recalling exceptional public servants in Ratnapura and how they served and were revered by one and all. That all had ascribed identities (Tamil, Sri Lankan) but what marked them, as she pointed out, was their professionalism, integrity and humanity.

Suku does his work quietly. He’s accomplished of course. He’s a private physician, drug developer, biotech executive and a globally recognized expert and pioneer in gene therapy. A gene transfer treatment he helped develop is transforming the lives of hundreds of children suffering from spinal muscular atrophy. He has always wanted to help broader patient populations. Well, not just patients obviously.

His family. With his wife Christine Ann, Suku set up the Nagendran Scholarship for international studies at the Robert Wood Johnson Medical School. The beneficiaries are his family. The committee and members of the ‘East Coast Foundation’ are his family. He is brother to his batch mates at Royal College (Class of 1983), son to his teachers and father to all young Royalists he helps in numerous ways, especially the most needy. Sri Lanka is his home and Sri Lankans are his family.

A few months ago, I asked Sukumar to write a small note for a souvenir to be released at an old boys’ gathering. Suku is a busy man, but he sent a short note about what he would like to see: ‘all students at Royal College must be together in a mixed class every year regardless of race, religion, language or economic status, and everyone should advance based on merit and skill.’  He added the following observation: ‘maybe too idealistic but this is what I believe in.’

That’s the heart that Rukshan sang of, his and those of his friends. That’s the family that Lasantha referred to. That’s Dr Sukumar Nagendran, ‘Suku’ to me, always.

Other articles in the series 'In Passing...':  [published in the 'Daily News']   

 

When the Government lowered the bar

Mother and mothers

Back to the nursery

Homeward bound

Vesak and THE WORD

The dignity of a kos-kola otunna

Avurudu in enhanced circumstances 

The Theory of Three Chillie Plants The story of an aththamma and an aththa The underside of sequestering Potters, named and unnamed Eyes that watch the world and cannot be forgotten 

Gunnepana: Planet Earth's new name  

Melodies in and out of the 64 squares  

Let's raise an army of rain-makers  

Happy birthday Raj Amirthiah  

Let's not stop singing in the lifeboats

When the Welikada Prison was razed to the ground 
Looking for the idyllic in dismal times 
Water the gardens with the liquid magic of simple ideas, right now  
There's canvas and brush to paint the portraits of love  
We might as well arrest the house!
The 'village' in the 'city' has more heart than concrete
Vo, Italy: the village that stopped the Coronavirus  
We need 'no-charge' humanity 
The unaffordable, as defined by Nihal Fernando
Liyaashya keeps life alive, by living  Heroes of our times Let's start with the credits, shall we? 
The 'We' that 'I' forgot 
'Duwapang Askey,' screamed a legend, almost 40 years ago
Dances with daughters
Reflections on shameless writing
Is the old house still standing?
 Magic doesn't make its way into the classifieds
Small is beautiful and is a consolation  
Distance is a product of the will
Akalanka Athukorala, at 13+ already a hurricane hunter
Did the mountain move, and if so why?
Ever been out of Colombo?
Anya Raux educated me about Juvenile Idiopathic Arthritis (JIA)
Wicky's Story You can always go to GOAT Mountain
Let's learn the art of embracing damage
Kandy Lake is lined with poetry
There's never a 'right moment' for love
A love note to an unknown address in Los Angeles
A dusk song for Rasika Jayakody
How about creating some history?
How far away are the faraway places?
There ARE good people!
Re-placing people in the story of schooldays   
When we stop, we can begin to learn
Routine and pattern can checkmate poetry
Janani Amanda Umandi threw a b'day party for her father 
Sriyani and her serendipity shop
Forget constellations and the names of oceans
Where's your 'One, Galle Face'?
Maps as wrapping paper, roads as ribbons
Yasaratne, the gentle giant of Divulgane  
Katharagama and Athara Maga
Victories are made by assists
Lost and found between weaver and weave
The Dhammapada and word-intricacies
S.A. Dissanayake taught children to walk in the clouds
White is a color we forget too often  
The most beautiful road is yet to meet a cartographer

 

malindasenevi@gmail.com

Read more

‘Atulugama’ doesn’t exist, okay?

The Press Complaints Commission of Sri Lanka, in concurrence with the Editors’ Guild of Sri Lanka, introduced guidelines for ethical journalism covering a wide range of subjects. They included the issue of identification in terms of race, religion, caste, gender, sexual orientation etc.  Put simply, the ascribed identity of an individual is extraneous to acts such as theft, murder, embezzlement or any other infringement, be it the perpetrator or the victim, unless of course there is sufficient evidence that such things played a decisive role in the act.

Such guidelines are useful but they are obviously not as robust as laws. This is why we have the ‘ethical’ caveat. They can be and have been breached with impunity, more or less. The objective is also compromised by Article 14(a) of the Constitution, namely ‘the freedom of speech and expression including publication.’ ‘Freedom of expression’ is an easy excuse  for deliberate, mischievous and even vicious castigation of individuals and collectives. It lends itself to much abuse.

Collective action such as mob violence is different. The perpetrators almost always obtain from particular identities and they target victims, individuals or collectives, on account of particular identities or threats to their own. Consider the case of the Lankadeepa/Hiru correspondent for Bandaragama, Bimal Shyaman Jayasinghe.

Now Jayasinghe thought fit to cover the celebration of Ramadan amidst quarantine on May 24, 2020. He picked the village of Atulugama in Bandaragama. The choice was logical and newsworthy because Atulugama was one of the villages sealed of by authorities after a Covid-19 infection was discovered in the area. The village was ‘opened’ subsequent to health authorities determining it was safe to do so. Atulugama has a considerable Muslim population. Any decent head of any news agency would immediately sense that there could be multiple newsworthy stories in such a village during Ramadan.

Jayasinghe was doing his job. Jayasinghe had interviewed the Chairman of the Marawa Mosque, one Najim Hajjiar. He had gone with a photographer who was busy doing his job. Jayasinghe was attacked by a mob. The victim had lodged a complaint with the Police and five persons were subsequently arrested. The Police informed court that CCTC evidence indicates the suspects had indeed violated Articles 408 and 410 of the Penal Court and had moreover violated pandemic-related protocols pertaining to quarantining. The suspects (who made part of the mob) were remanded upon a directive of the Acting Magistrate, Panadura, Ranjith Rodrigo.

The frustration of the sequestered is not hard to understand. Scrutiny of any kind is not exactly relished by one and all. And yet, it is neither illegal not unethical for a journalist to investigate and report on situations that are reasonably believed to be of interest to the reader. The context is also colored by the fact that in several communities the devout had violated social distancing protocols set down by authorities fighting hard to control the pandemic. Freedom of association and freedom of religion were dented by such necessities. A generous (and obviously wealthy) person caused a stampede in which three persons died when he announced he would distribute cash to people celebrating Ramadan. All that, too, added to context.

It must be mentioned that violation of the social distancing protocol is widespread and not limited to those who put it aside on account of the primacy of affirming faith. What is of greater import here is the fact of violence.

Jayasinghe, whichever way you want to look at the matter, was legit. He was attacked and at least some of the suspects are in custody while the Police are looking for the absconding culprits. All good.

Such things happen. ‘Such things’ are not the preserve of the Muslim community. We have seen how all Sinhalese and all Buddhists are roundly, repeatedly (and even endlessly) castigated (as collectives) for the action of a few who claim to or are assumed to be representing collective interest. The individuals are named and shamed. The collectives they belong to as per accident of birth and/or tagged upon their insistence, are also named and shamed. We have seen this happening to the Tamil community as well, a fact that was unfortunately buttressed by elected Tamil representatives claiming that a terrorist group was in fact ‘the sole-representative of the Tamil people.’

The Lankadeepa, which reported the incident, took care not to mention a collective. The unnamed collective was however ‘named’ so to speak by mentioning a) Atulugama, b) a mosque and c) the name of an individual. They added to a communal identity. No way around it, one can argue. The question is, why should anyone look for ‘a way around it,’ when it is obvious that identity was the key factor in the attack?

Is it one of those crazy, ill-intentioned-but-couched-in-humanistic-terms yahapalana remnants? Is it about ‘the greater worth’ of inter-communal, inter-religious harmony? Is it about ‘reconciliation’? Is it about going easy on a community which partisan and ignorant outfits like Al Jazeera believe is ‘beleaguered’?

Well, there are no completely innocent and blameless communities in this world. There are no blameless majorities or minorities. The excesses of one do not justify excesses of another. Neither is it true that there are communities that ‘signatured’ by violence. There are, however, individuals who claim to speak for collectives. There are collectives that go silent when they are spoken for in violent ways and thereby offer, even partially, some level of consent. There are collectives and individuals who would attempt disassociation by saying things such as ‘they are not true practitioners,’ or ‘terrorists have no religion,’ never mind the fact that the said terrorists were/are affirming a faith that these objectors identify with.

There’s palpable go-easy on certain kinds of violence by certain communities. This is a clear instance. It is of course the prerogative of media institutions to pick and choose. They can headline an incident, pass it to ‘page 10,’ dilution or exaggerate or ignore altogether.

It’s different with rights advocates, however, especially those who claim to be champions Article 14(a) and media rights. They have on occasion cried out in horror when they’ve felt such things were violated, even going to the extent of mis-identifying as ‘journalists’ those who had weapons training and identified with terrorism. To date, they’ve not uttered one word about Bimal Shyaman Jayasinghe. Maybe it’s Covid-19 and they are officially ‘off-work.’ More likely, they are persuaded to be selectively sequestered, picking when and where to wear a mask or even a blindfold. Ostrich-like.

Back in the day, especially leading up to and following the Ceasefire Agreement between the then UNP Government and the LTTE, the ‘human rights’ hordes were afflicted with a disease which I called ‘Numb Finger Syndrome.’ They refused to call the LTTE a terrorist organization. Looks like that disease is quite resilient.

The danger is obvious. Varnishing the truth doesn’t help in the long run. The truth is what will help cure the warts and heal the wounds on skin and mind, of individuals and collectives. Ask the Lankadeepa/Hiru correspondent for Bandaragama, Bimal Shyaman Jayasinghe.

malindasenevi@gmail.com

Read more

Do you have a plan?

Way back in the early 1970s, Royal College had three left arm leg spinners. Incredibly, they all played together in certain matches. There was Samuel Lawton (who captained in 1974). There was Jayantha Amarasinghe, who went on to play for Sri Lanka. Sarath Weerakoon was the third.

Sarath played in the 95th Battle of the Blues. In fact he played for Colts while still at Royal. He has remained a keen student of the game, updating himself with new techniques by keeping in touch with over 200 coaches. His involvement with the game, however, is limited to mentoring talented young cricketers. ‘Limited’ can give the wrong impression. Mentoring can be of critical import. It can turn an average cricketer into someone special. Proper guidance can help someone in a slump recover and reach greater heights. 

This is not about mentoring, although it is inspired by a message he had sent some of the boys he advises and was kind enough to share with me.  It’s something that the great West Indian opener had written about scoring.

‘When you come to bat, ensure you play straight. Get your first 25 runs in the ‘V’ from mid-off to mid-on. Then, for the next 40 runs, slowly open the arc on both sides, say from extra-cover to mid-wicket, point to square-leg and then third-man to fine-leg. After that, for the next 10 runs, begin to close the gap from both sides, and for the next 25 play in the arc again. Then complete your hundred.’ 

Sarath has something to add.

‘That’s all you need, apart from choosing the right things to do, responding to the length of deliveries. Master the basics. Your natural flair will come through once you’ve got your basics in place.’

And what are these ‘basics’? Sarath explains, ‘the aim of the batsman is to show the maximum face of the bat to the bowler (which minimizes the risk of missing the ball).’ 

Hunte played for the Windies from 1957 to 1967, scoring 3245 runs at an incredible average of 45.06 including eight centuries and 13 half-centuries in 44 Tests. The game is very different from the 1960s of course. ODIs and T-20s have impacted technique and temperament. New rules have demanded new approaches. Different ‘greats’ have probably come up with strategies of their own. The key matter here is ‘strategy.’
 
You need to have a plan. Talent and instinct might result in a gem of an innings, but such efforts are typically sporadic.In general, those with a plan tend to fare better than those without one. The ‘basics’ will be the foundation. Constructing the edifice will necessitate a consideration of the environment, for example the bowling attack one has to contend with, the status of the match, the nature of the wicket etc.  Even then, there has to be a plan. Like Sachin Tendulkar against the Australians in 2003 refusing the drive on the on-side (as he had previously with dire results) to score 241*. However, Sachin had the basics right. The temperament. The discipline. The technique. The full complement of strokes around the wicket. The cricketing brain honed to read the bowler and the opposition, and of course to take stock of the way the wicket was behaving.

Hunte’s plan was all about getting one’s eye in. It was about being patient. It was about incremental assessment of the conditions.

Cricinfo has the following note on Hunte: ‘As a batsman, Hunte could match anyone stroke-for-stroke, especially on the leg side, if he wanted. But he subdued his attacking nature in Test cricket to let his team-mates play their shots, a decision which was vital in making the West Indian side of the early 1960s one of the most complete of all time. It was an early signal of the determined thoughtfulness that was to stamp his whole life.’ Yes, keeping ‘team’ in mind is also basic. It has to be factored into the plan.

Plan. A keyword. Sarath always knew and that's what he does and teaches. 

Strengths and weaknesses

Wait, it's a strategy

The virtues of risk-free generosity

Thinking and out-thinking in sports

Read, locked-down people, read!

The team, the team!

Who should take the last shot?

It's all about partnerships

There are no Tommie Smith or John Carlos t-shirts brother

'The done thing' is rarely done

'Practice, lots of practice'

Special, always and forever

The shortcut to greatness

It's healthy to retire the braggadocio 

Money talks, gold rules: are we ok with that?

Sometimes if you don't stand up, you fall

Selections and the political economy of disappointment

So who is the GOAT?

Predecessors are great teachers

When things go wrong check the fundamentals

There's always only one more game left

Mind games are part of the sporting story

Those nervous ninetiesOut-think the opposition
School sports and parents

The importing mania in school cricket

Sportsmen and sportswomen beware: your accounts will be hacked soon!

Not all victories are recorded

 

malindasenevi@gmail.com

malindasenevi@gmail.com.

Read more

Strengths and weaknesses

It’s so basic that one might even wonder what there is talk to about. Simply, one plays to one’s strength and attempts to exploit the opponent’s weaknesses. Consider this anecdote from the early seventies which my neighbor, the late Col A.N. Perera related to me.

Now Col A.N. Perera, ‘AN Maama’ to me, was once the master-in-charge of cricket at Royal. He had dozens of stories which he would share with me. It was a Royal-Ananda match at Reid Avenue. Royal was batting. At the crease was star batsman Prasanna Kariyawasam. The coach, Col F.C. De Saram had remarked, ‘he is going to get out now.’

He had then explained: ‘Kari loves the lofted off and on drives. They have a long-off, a long-on and a third fielder standing at the edge of the sight screen. Kari won’t notice and will attempt a lofted drive over the bowler’s head.’

He did. It was probably, in his mind, a safe shot, and therefore he didn’t need to clear the ground. He was caught.

That’s getting your man on his strengths, the favorite shot. That’s the exception though. Typically, it is the weakness that is targeted.

Last week, I wrote about ‘waiting.’  Dulan Edirisinghe, fellow columnist, brilliant chess player and a keen student of most sports, offered the following comment after reading that piece.

‘The Indian cricket team toured Australia at the end of 2003 to play four test matches and an ODI tri-series. In the first three tests, Sachin Tendulkar scored only 82 runs. He was getting out trying to drive on the off side. Tendulkar decided he is not going to play a single drive outside the off stump. He played a "waiting game" so that the bowlers would lose patience, bowl at the stumps and he could score on the leg side. The end result was an innings of 241* without a single cover drive!’

Yes, it was a waiting game.  It was also a calculated, determined and disciplined response to a team targeting a weakness. ‘Waiting’ is part of the story of course, but it is  sub-plot in the larger narrative about strengths and weaknesses.

That same article, which drew from the idea of a ‘waiting move’ that is a simple and well-known tactical ploy in chess, also prompted Sahan Chandula to share the following story which refers to a different kind of ‘waiting game’ in a chess encounter.

Magnus Carlsen drew Game 12 against Fabiano Caruana in the World Chess Championship 2018, surprising many because the position at that point in the game was of the kind that would make the World Champion push for a win. The match was tied at this point and a win would have seen Carlsen retaining the crown.  Carlen opted to draw and take on Caruana in the Rapid format, used these days to break a tie.  He demolished his opponent.

So, essentially, Carlsen had ‘waited.’ He had his chances in Game 12, but victory was not guaranteed. In the Rapid format, on the other hand, Carlen correctly felt he had a decisive edge. Carlsen knew his strengths and his opponents weaknesses, as Sahan correctly pointed out.

OTHER ARTICLES IN THIS SERIES [THE INTERCEPTION] WRITTEN FOR 'THE MORNING'

 

Wait, it's a strategy

The virtues of risk-free generosity

Thinking and out-thinking in sports

Read, locked-down people, read!

The team, the team!

Who should take the last shot?

It's all about partnerships

There are no Tommie Smith or John Carlos t-shirts brother

'The done thing' is rarely done

'Practice, lots of practice'

Special, always and forever

The shortcut to greatness

It's healthy to retire the braggadocio 

Money talks, gold rules: are we ok with that?

Sometimes if you don't stand up, you fall

Selections and the political economy of disappointment

So who is the GOAT?

Predecessors are great teachers

When things go wrong check the fundamentals

There's always only one more game left

Mind games are part of the sporting story

Those nervous ninetiesOut-think the opposition
School sports and parents

The importing mania in school cricket

Sportsmen and sportswomen beware: your accounts will be hacked soon!

Not all victories are recorded

 

malindasenevi@gmail.com

Read more

Let’s return to ‘better times’ shall we?

\It would be unfair to ask people if they would like to go back to May 17, 2009 and tell us if they prefer that day, time and all that is embedded in these things to this day (May 20, 2020, as I write). On that day, which was the day before the LTTE military leadership was annihilated, the inevitable was known.

We could go back to other days. Here’s a partial list.

November 11, 1985 (Dollar Farm massacre), November 30, 1985 (Kent Farm massacre), May 5, 1985 (Wilpattu Village massacre), May 14, 1985 (massacre of 146 civilians at the Sri Maha Bodhi), June 11, 1990 (600 unarmed police officers summarily executed), August 3, 1990 (147 Muslims killed in cold blood while attending Isha prayers at the Meer Jumma Masjid, Hussainiya, Masjid-Jul-Noor and Fowzie Mosques) and October 1990 (ethnically cleansing Jaffna of its Muslim population — 72,000 of them, no less), among hundreds of attacks on unarmed communities carried out by the LTTE.

We could remember July 24, 1996 (Dehiwala train bombing), October 15, 1997 (World Trade Centre bombing), January 25, 1998 (attack on the Temple of the Sacred Tooth Relic), January 31, 1996 (Central Bank bombing), July 24, 2001 (Bandaranaike Airport attack), the numerous bus bombings of 2008, April 6, 2008 (Weliveriya bombing), February 3, 2008 (Fort Railway Station bombing), among many LTTE suicide attacks.

Then there are those dark days of assassinations. The near and dear would remember better of course. Here’s a partial list.

Alfred Duraiappah, Ranasinghe Premadasa, Rajiv Gandhi, Lalith Athulathmudali, Gamini Dissanayake, Ranjana Wijeratne, Lakshman Kadirgamar, Jeyaraj Fernandopulle, C.V. Gunaratne, Ossie Abeygunasekera, Appapillai Amirthalingam,  S Shanmuganathan, A. Thangathurai, M Canagaratnam, Sam Tambimuttu, G Yogeswaran, V Yogeswaran, NImalan Soudaranayagam, Kethesh Loganathan, Chelvy Thiyagarajah, Balanadarajah Iyer, Rajani Thiranagama, Relangi Selvarajah, C E Anandarajah, V M Panchalingam, S Nadarajah, Sarojini Yogeswaran, Gopalaswamy Mahendraraja, Uma Maheswaran, Kithalagama Sri Seelankara Thera, Hegoda Sri Indrasara Thera Sivashri Kungaraja Kurukal, Selliah Parameswara Kurukkal, and hundreds of other military leaders, politicians, activists, civil society leaders, priests, professionals and of course leaders and cadres of rival militant groups.

We could list all atrocities perpetrated by the Sri Lankan military on civilians either upon orders of maniacal commanders and politicians or by indisciplined combatants. The most horrific of these, let us not forget, took place in the 1980s and 1990s.

Let’s however go to the much talked of ‘last days.’ Let’s go to December 2008, taking the word of celebrated defense columnist who told us ‘Killinochchi falling to the security forces is a 50-50 matter.’ This was when ‘analysts’ such as Kumar David wailed, ’Killinochchi must not fall!’ Let’s go to the first few months of the year 2009. We could look at things from the perspective of a Tamil civilian taken hostage by the LTTE or any other civilian in any other part of the country who when leaving home did not know whether he had in fact bid goodbye to his or her child for the last time.

Let us remember that in those very last days the LTTE bundled dozens of wounded female cadres into two buses and blew them up because they believed it was a risk to allow them to leave for the areas cleared by the security forces and that keeping them was a liability they could not afford. Let us remember that the LTTE attacked a church in the No Fire Zone and assaulted the pastor therein in those very last days because desperate parents had taken their children there to avoid forcible conscription (yes, yes, child soldiers was a big LTTE thing). Let us remember that the hostages were treated to just one glass of rice kanji per day. Let us remember that the LTTE waylaid vehicles carrying provisions to areas under its control (yes, relief offered by UN agencies and the Red Cross included) and hoarded them for the benefit of cadres, thereby denying the civilians who were the intended beneficiaries.

Let’s think of a child who by the very fact of existing was seen as a potential combatant by the LTTE. Let’s think of every single child abducted by the LTTE, given weapons training and sent to kill and be killed. Let’s think of every single mother and father whose days and nights were made of a single tragic question, ‘will my son or daughter be taken today?’ Let’s think of fathers and daughters. Let’s think of fathers who impregnated their daughters so they would not be conscripted by the LTTE. Let’s think of everyone who either as combatant or victim of crossfire or deliberate targeting of civilians lost their lives or limbs. Let’s not forget the Tamil politician who lost his voice or rather loaned it willingly or unwillingly to the world’s most ruthless terrorist of the time.

Let’s go to any of these places. Let’s inhabit such times. Let’s stay there for a while. Let’s close eyes and recall. For a while.

Now. Let’s open our eyes. It is May 2020. More than a decade has passed. Feel good? Well, it seems that some are unhappy. May 18, we are told, should be a day of mourning, not celebration. If anyone believes that the end of a war which filled everyone’s days and nights with absolute helplessness, fear and foreboding is a day for mourning, they’ve probably led sheltered lives. If not, they were and are unhappy that preferred outcomes did not materialize. I think it’s the latter.

They need a day of mourning and they want to give some legitimacy for this by referring to the last days, regurgitating the highly inflated narrative of numbers tossed out by absolutely unreliable sources and disseminated by the ignorant or politically pernicious.

Notwithstanding all of that, there’s a simple enough question that such people will dare not answer: ‘do you wish that time did not end?’

It ended. If anything believes that the end of child abduction, forcible conscription, suicide attacks, ethnic cleansing, political assassinations, international networks of human and arms smuggling, drug trafficking, credit card fraud, extortion and numerous other crimes is not worthy of celebration, he or she is one down-in-the-mouth individual. Yes, let us repeat: it is about outcome preferences not materializing. Nothing more, nothing less. When they say ‘triumphalism,’ they are in reality celebrating (yes!) ‘defeatism.’ Sad, but what can one do but say ‘sorry, but I don’t see it that way.’

Does this mean that ‘conflict’ is over? Of course not. Does this mean that Tamils no longer have grievances? No, of course not, not forgetting of course that grievances can be exaggerated and that that no limits can be imposed on the dimensions of aspirations, and not forgetting that ‘grievance’ and ‘aspiration’ are not the preserve of a single community. Should such grievances be ignored? Of course not. Should aspirations be summarily discarded? Of course not. The end of separatism? Of course not, and depending on one’s political position, one can celebrate or lament, fight or surrender.

This is not about such things. It is about a celebration of the creation of space for a ‘new time.’ A different place to inhabit. The end of certain kinds of miseries. And people who gave their lives to end those miseries. People who were maimed for life to revive a dying people, repair a devastated earth-piece and release from torture a nation.
 
This article was first published in the SUNDAY OBSERVER (May 24, 2020)

malindasenevi@gmail.com

Read more