A few days ago the website www.colombotelegraph.com
‘celebrated’ its 15ht birthday. Over the years dozens of political
commentators have been featured on Colombo Telegraph (CT). They’ve
mostly written about the political upheavals of the particular moment,
but have for the most part drawn from longer histories and been framed
by happier extrapolations. Eminently readable. As Carlo Fonseka might
have put it, ‘even if you are not enthused by the substance, you could
still read for style.’
Each piece inspired much commentary, not
all of which could be saluted either for substance or style of course.
My fellow journalist (at one point) and good friend Hafeel Farisz once
made an observation about comments on my articles. He said he would be
very upset. I told him that I don’t really care.
There were
times when I did scroll down and even engage. If it was downright stupid
and caustic I would just say, ‘at least you read what I write, but I am
sorry I don’t have time to indulge because I have other articles to
write which of course you could rant about later….have a nice day.’ And I
would add a smiley. My hunch is that such a comment would irk the
‘offender’ no end. But I wouldn’t know. I didn’t go there. As I said, I
had other things to do.
I haven’t written to CT in years. I
haven’t written much anyway, not since the end of 2024. I haven’t
visited CT much either, except when something pops up on my feed or if
the evergreen curator, Uvindu Kurukulasuriya alerts me.
Anyway,
a few days ago, i.e. on CT’s birthday, I wrote a short appreciation.
Uvindu’s comment was that it was like an appreciation written for
someone who has died! That’s true. CT, at least for me, is more about
Uvindu than anything else; the man’s energy, commitment, passion and
relentlessness. Maintaining all that, almost single-handedly, for 15
years is no mean achievement.
Uvindu is still alive. For the
record. And kicking too, in his own way if with less verve. I didn’t
mean it to sound like an obituary, but then there’s so little praise and
so much blame penned about people that encomiums of any kind tend to be
read that way.
I remember writing about the veteran sports
journalist R L Fernando for the Sunday Island. I had left that paper
when ‘RL’ passed away. He had his idiosyncrasies of course but was quite
a personality nevertheless. Rex Clementine’s voice broke when he called
and said, ‘Sad news, RL has passed away.’ So I write and Manik De
Silva, the Editor-in-Chief carried it the following Sunday.
He called me, probably on the Monday afterwards and said ‘I realised you hadn’t mentioned that RL had died!’
So, such things happen. We write of the dead as though they are alive and the living as though they’ve passed on.
Be
that as it may, it goes without saying that we can’t ever write a
person fully, for we don’t know all or enough. People are seen in
fragment; in terms of the particularities of encounter.
I have
many Uvindu stories. That happens when you know or know about someone
for many years. He and I have had our differences of opinion, which
would be normal even among those who are in agreement politically and
ideologically. We were not. But there was one equaliser that made it all
ok: we were and are convinced that the other’s conduct was framed by
‘best interests for the country,’ and not personal gain.
Anyway, let me relate one Uvindu story. I can’t remember when it happened, probably more than 10 years ago, but I am not sure.
It
had to do with something nefarious indulged in by someone on the same
(broad) political/ideological boat. Now it is well known for people to
be lenient on political fellow-travellers. ‘In the larger interest of
the party,’ is the excuse frequently trotted out. Uvindu was and is
different. He couldn’t turn the other way. He told me about it, not as a
fellow-journalist but as a friend. The following is a rough translation
of what he said:
‘He took money from innocent people who
believed in him. There was a widow of a principal who had donated her
widow’s pension. A small amount, but the whole pension! I am sure my
mother would have or must have done the same.’
This…….(fill in the blank space with choice Sinhala expletives)!
It was a Skype call. He was sobbing.
That’s Uvindu Kurukulasuriya. And that I believe is why CT is what it is. All heart. And a lot of mind besides.
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