The Executive Presidency has a chuckle

Maithripala Sirisena is the Executive President of Sri Lanka.  He's not the first. He claims he will be the last.  Claims are cheap.  It is best to believe it when one sees it or sees it gone, as in this case.  So there have been executive presidents.  There has been a lot of talk about abolishing the executive presidency.  What does the Executive Presidency think about all this, have you wondered?  In a PARALLEL UNIVERSE the executive presidency would exercise that lovely thing called Freedom of Expression, we believe.  Something like what follows might result.

I have long stopped counting the number of times people called for my abolition.  I have stopped counting the number of times politicians, presidential candidates and political parties vowed to abolition me.   I have long since stopped pitying the voters of the country who with fervent hope and utmost trust in this politician or that, this party or that, voted for them believing that I will be abolished. 

This time, to be honest, I was a bit concerned this time.  That’s because of the noise.  Everyone seemed determined to bury me.  I breathed a sigh of relief when Maithripala’s manifesto came out.  Nothing of abolition.  Just some safeguards.  I am ok with that.  Just like capitalism needs a certain percentage of the workforce to be unemployed, just like regimes need a certain magnitude of visible protest (it’s the underground that worries them) so that dissent can be managed, I too need some reins.  It’s all good because the rope is long enough for me to graze to my heart’s content. 

Maithripala promised to set up a thing called National Advisory Council.  The moment he was elected he set up something like that but called it National Executive Council.  Now that’s setting up a competitor, one might say.  I might have been worried that there was another ‘executive’ and one which was not even elected and worse has as one of its members a notorious anti-democrat consumed by hatred and revenge-intent, Chandrika Kumaratunga, but I’ve lived long enough not to miss the wood for the trees.  What it told me that in principle Maithri and Co held this ‘executive’ thing as an article of faith. So I was relieved.

If I was relieved then I am thrilled to bits now.  Just the other day, my most vociferous detractors cheered until they were hoarse when Maithripala used me to get rid of Mohan Pieris, re-install Shirani Bandaranayake (originally installed with executive flourish for reasons of political convenience and ideological commonality by Chandrika Kumaratunga), have her resign and install Saravana Pavan as Chief Justice. 

Not a whimper of protest did I hear from the Good Governance Brigade; nothing at all about separation of powers being the cornerstone of a healthy democracy.  No protests about Maithripala giving the finger to all those 6.2 million people who the Good Governance Brigade claim voted for him for just one reason, that of burying me.  Well, the man needs me, it seems now.   

I am also pleased that Maithri is dragging his feet over electoral reform.  It seems that UNPers and SLFPers in Parliament are worried that they might lose their seats if elections were held on a first-past-the-post basis.  Sloth always bodes well for the status quo.  And a man who has used me for one thing will soon use me for something else.  In time he will need me more than he needs his voters. 

Things are looking great for me.  Those who voted for Maithri should not feel ashamed.  After all even the Good Governance Brigade has not read Maithri’s manifesto.  They were suckered in.  And maybe now they’ll realize that the 6.2 million who voted for Maithri were not really worried about me and burying me; they were more interested in voting the Rajapaksas out.  Now isn’t that the truth, ladies and gentlemen? 

So pardon me, I don’t mean to insult.  I just want a quiet chuckle about how things have unfolded over the last few weeks.  

Read more

Mangala flushes stuff down the tube

Foreign Minister Mangala Samaraweera is well known for gaffes.  One can’t blame him.  He’s an honest politician.  With Mangala, what you see is what you get.  If he trips it is because he has been careless about where he puts his foot.  If he puts it in his mouth it is just because he doesn’t know any better.  But in a PARALLEL UNIVERSE it would be different.  He would be honest and smart. 

He did visit such a parallel universe recently, i.e. just after returning from India.  Reflecting on the visit, he smiled.  He thought about all the people he had met and everything he had said and thought to himself, ‘I was good, very good’.   Then he thought about his meeting with a group of Indian journalists. Then he frowned.  Then he started sweating.  Then he had to rush to the toilet.  And he thought.  He read Maithripala Sirisena’s manifesto.  He read the 100 Days’ Program.  This is what went through his tortured mind.

What on earth was I saying?  I must have been out of my mind.  When I spoke about Tamils and reconciliation did I really ask, rhetorically of course, ‘there are already lots of proposals made to achieve national reconciliation, such as the Thimpu Proposals, the Mangala Moonesinghe Proposals, the CBK Proposals, so why go for a new Parliament Select Committee?’?  Did I actually say ‘There’s no need to reinvent the wheel’?

What was I thinking?  All that is old hat.  Everyone, including those who voted for Maithri knows that the vast majority will have no truck with any of those proposals.  They all know how each of those proposals was a glorified kappam, something like a weak, cowardly kid paying the school bully to stop himself from being harassed.  Those were all appease-the-tiger proposals.  No one took them seriously back then and now that the LTTE is out of the equation people will laugh. 

I was right in saying there’s no need to reinvent the wheel.  But we are talking of wheels here.  We are talking of a road called ‘One Way to Eelam’.  I am going to get creamed for what I said.  Damn it, I should have kept my big mouth shut! 

I should have stuck to the script.  The script was pretty clear.  It’s all there in Maithri’s manifesto.  Or rather, it’s NOT there in the manifesto. Nothing about devolution. Nothing about any of these proposals.  Nothing about road maps.  Nothing about wheels, inventing or reinventing them.  How on earth did I forget that this was not about those issues but about getting the system right, but only about constitutional reform, rule of law, good governance, transparency and accountability?

Someone is going to throw the manifesto at me.  Someone else will throw the 100-Days’ Program at me.  There isn’t a single word in either document about this ethnic conflict stuff.  There’s only some vague reference to inter-religious harmony, nothing about Tamils, nothing about minorities, nothing about grievances and aspirations. 

I can’t even say that there are other things in a country that need to be addressed but are not referred to in either of these documents because Maithri and Ranil are studiously avoiding important reforms promised such as changing the system of proportional representation.  It would be as though we were not serious about Maithree-Paalanaya and the 100 Days’ Program and were interested in other things.  In other words that we took some 6.1 million people for a ride.  We can’t afford to let people think that, not at this stage.  But damn me! Damn me! Damn me!  Why on earth couldn’t I keep my mouth shut? 

And with that Mangala Samaraweera took his copies of the manifesto and the 100 Days’ Program and stuffed them both into the toilet bowl.  He flushed them down the tube.  Then he released a massive sigh of relief.  In a parallel universe, in case you missed the qualifier. 

Read more

A confused Parliament calls for dissolution

Parliament is made of members representing various parties elected by the people.  People come, people go.  Some stay for years like the present Prime Minister Ranil Wickremesinghe.  Others are here today gone tomorrow or else one this side now and later on that, courtesy one Chief Justice called Sarath N Silva. Parliament is made of voices but parliament has no voice, except in a parallel universe.  Here's that voice, heard and recorded for the first time.

My father who once gave shelter to representatives and was later made to cover wheeler dealers knows all this.  In his time when people moved they were prompted by a thing called conscience.  Even when they did crossed party lines they didn’t stop representing the people who voted for them. 

It’s all different now.  People are not as patient as they were before.   If you ask them they’ll say ‘the opposition has an important role to play in a democracy,’ but they all act as though ‘The Opposition’ is a cesspit they’ve been dumped in.  They crawl out and are duly embraced by ‘The Government’ without any thought to the gooey stuff staining the well starched national dress of the embracer. 

I don’t know.  I am over 35 years old and I thought I had seen it all.  I saw Ronnie De Mel.  He gave ‘jump’ an entirely new meaning.  Today Ronnie is old hat.  He’s been bested.  Today it’s quite a blur.  People move so fast that it is hard to keep track of who is who, who is where, and where for how long. 

Still, there was one thing clear.  After the jump, embrace, cheer and jeer, when the Speaker restores order there are two sides.  Government and Opposition.  But look what’s happened now! 

The Leader of the Opposition belongs to the largest parliamentary group.  The Prime Minister is from a party that has less than half the number of MPs the Opposition boasts of.  The President appoints/selects both Prime Minister and Leader of the Opposition.   Then there’s another group made of single-member reps from various parties who don’t want the Leader of the Opposition even as they embrace the program that the newly elected President got a mandate from the people to implement.  The Speaker is the brother of the recently dethroned President who is almost saying he is thrilled that his brother lost.  Mind you, the dethroners’ clarion call was to oust not just the President  but his entire family. 

Everyone supports the President and his program, either as individuals or as members of political parties that have endorsed the key elements of his election manifesto.  Everyone believes he/she is part of the Government, even the Leader of the Opposition. 

I am tired.  I can’t figure it out.  I overheard someone saying that TV debates have become dead boring because everyone agrees with everyone else.  Ironically it is called වාද  පිටිය (vaada pitiya, translatable as debating ground).  No sharp exchanges.  No point and counterpoint.  No debate. 

In any other situation (e.g. a group of friends on a camping trip or a team of archaeologists delving into early human settlements) this would be ideal.  The problem here is that we are not talking of a group of saints.  There are crooks, wheeler dealers, those accused of plunder, arson and even murder, and barefaced liars.  If these people are in AGREEMENT and they happen to be representing the people of this country, I can only come to one conclusion.  I am obsolete.  

So I say DISSOLVE ME.  No, not in the traditional way of turning MPs into former MPs overnight, I am saying ‘burn me up, let me sink into the Diyavanna Oya, I don’t care how you do it, but put me out of this misery. 

Read more

Mahinda Rajapaksa on Mahinda Rajapaksa

And what does Mahinda have to say of elections and defeats?  Well, only Mahinda will really know and it's only in a PARALLEL UNIVERSE that we can access those files.  We did.  And we transcribed.

Post-mortems are for losers and I have had to listen to hundreds of pundits explaining to me what went wrong.   I am sick of it.  I am the guy that lost.  I died.  I should know better than any mother’s son or daughter what did me in.  So here goes, once and for all, the whole A-Z of it. 

It was not the end-result of some sophisticated conspiracy orchestrated by certain pernicious sections of the international community.  I didn’t say any foreigners voting and didn’t hear of such a thing either.  But jokes aside (and forgetting all that I said during the campaign), this was as Sri Lankan as it can get.  Oh, yes, I know that it thrilled people like Eric Soulham and that BBC fellow Charlie Havingland. I know there was moral support and maybe even some dollars and euros.  That would never be enough to defeat me.  I know this. 

It was not because of the Tamils in the North, East and elsewhere or the Muslims in the East and other parts of the country, because if that was the case I would have won hands down.  Only 15% of all the votes Maithripala got came from those two provinces.  So if this was a for-Eelam vote, then 85% of the Sinhalese would be separatists.

It was not my ‘inner circle’.  I’ve heard people say ‘we love Mahinda but he has surrounded himself with a bunch of self-serving idiots’.   The implication is that I took bad advice from wrong people.  Wrong. I took the right advice from the right people. 

Let me say it once and for all.  There was no conspiracy, this was not some sophisticated Eelamist design and I was not defeated because of the bad deeds, thoughts and advice of my friends.  I defeated myself. Period.

Where I needed to be humble, I was arrogant.  When I needed to show respect to Maithripala, I showered him with contempt.  When I needed to say ‘I am not asking you to reward me for the good I’ve done because it’s my job and what I am expected to do, never mind that my predecessors did not do it,’ I said ‘I did it all and therefore gift me re-election.’  When I needed to say ‘if this is about democracy, well then I have created conditions for you to vote so go ahead and exercise your franchise as you will, even use it against me if you wish,’ I did not.  Instead I gave 101 reasons why they should not vote for Maithripala.  When I should have done exactly what brought me political success, namely heeding my gut feeling, I second-guessed myself and allowed others to think for me.  I should have known that their frame of reference was self-interest and that they banked on me winning and therefore didn’t really think through things before advising me.  They are not to be blamed for offering opinions, but I blame myself for taking their advice. 

I lost my face during the campaign.  I was not the Mahinda of 2005 and 2010.  People could not recognize me as the person they voted for in 2005 and 2010.  As Maithripala himself said, back in 2005 I was a ‘සුන්දර මනුස්සයෙක්’ (a pleasant person).  In 2014/15 I was an angry man.  Frustrated. Scared of being defeated.  It probably showed on my face.  I can’t blame anyone else for this.  I blame myself. 

No one surrounded me.  I let them surround me.  I played ‘look the other way’ when people did bad things.  That was consent, I now realize.  I forgot a cardinal principle about deceit and theft: ‘If a leader lies or robs, it amounts to license for all those below him to lie and steal; if anyone lies or robs it means that either the leader is a liar and a thief (or both) or is incompetent.’  I didn’t put my foot down. 

Yes, my sons didn’t help.  But they are MY sons and I indulged.  I don’t blame them. I blame their father. The same goes for my brothers.

If I had to do it all again?  Well, as a pragmatic politician, I don’t want to dwell on the could-have-been too much.  But I must tell you, it’s good to get this off my chest.  So now you have it.  If you want reasons for this defeat in a nutshell, this is it:  Defeat by Mahinda Rajapaksa, for Mahinda Rajapaksa, with Mahinda Rajapaksa. 

ඔබ සැමට තෙරුවන් සරණයි! May you all be blessed by the Noble Triple Gem!

Read more

The supporters (of Mahinda and Maithripala) reflect*

The MR Camp

We got caught in the thrill of the whole thing, that’s for sure.  We all operated on the basis of a simple assumption: the President cannot lose.  For this reason, we were in a world where we felt we could do as we liked.  We cut loose.  We went to town.  But we are getting ahead of our story.

Let’s start at the beginning; not the first beginning, i.e. when the boss first appointed (formally and informally) his ‘trusted men and women’ but the beginning of this election campaign.  As usual this glorified cheering squad made sure the boss felt good.  That’s important since very few leaders want to hear bad news.  Hangers-on, therefore, know that the boss has to be kept happy.

Nothing to worry sir.  You will win and win big. We will do it for you. 

All that was said are versions of the above three sentences. The last was very important.  Usefulness has to be ingrained in the boss’ mind.  That’s called ‘investment’. 

Now it is one thing to lie through your teeth but quite another to believe your own lies.  If anyone of us thought that it was going to be easy, that’s reason enough to be hoofed from the campaign headquarters and be asked to stay home until January 8, 2015.  That didn’t happen.  We not only joined the carnival, we even made big bucks on the side.  That now was a win-win situation.  We believed the boss would romp home, so we took it easy.  We did a bit here and there.  We were duly rewarded.  But it was one big party until election day. 

As the campaign progressed, this confidence manifested itself in other ways.  There was bragging. There was arrogance.  There was contempt for the opponent and his supporters.  There were people taking the law into their hands, thinking that it would help the boss and thinking even that this is what the boss really wanted.  It didn’t help of course that the boss had turned a blind eye to this kind of stuff for many years, offering silent approval and encouragement so to speak.  And there was advertising over-kill. 

The worst thing was that it all rubbed off on the boss.  It showed on his face.  There was arrogance.  There was bullishness.  There was contempt for the opponent. There was ungainly language.   The people found it hard to recognize in that face the man they’ve always admired and loved, the man who after D.S. Senanayake was the most loved national leader this country has known.   

None of this helped the boss.  It made what ought to have been a piece of cake into a real contest. 

The MS Camp

This was about change.  It was a long-felt need.  We had the arguments.  We had the facts.  We articulated. We substantiated.  We forgot that we are also creatures of the same political culture in which the people we want ousted operate in.  

We began with a huge handicap.  No, we are not talking about the fact that we are in the opposition for that’s a given disadvantage.  The biggest liability was the former president, Chandrika Kumaratunga.  She was the living antithesis to what we promised, the lovely idea of a ‘maithree paalanaya’.  Rage seemed to be her middle name.  Revenge her one objective.   We thought Ranil Wickremesinghe with his usual foot-in-mouth ways would wreck the campaign, but this time he was different.  Perhaps he associated the right people.  Chandrika was what she always was, an insecure, vindictive politician.  That cost us. 

‘Maithri Paalanayak’ or ‘Compassionate Governance’ was a beautiful tagline for a presidential campaign.  The only problem is that we are all pruthagjanas or flawed human beings.  It was an ideal impossible to live up to.  Given that our opponents had no such pretensions, given that they acted as though the only way to differentiate themselves from us was to live out the antithesis of our tagline, they knowingly or unknowingly dragged us down to their level.  Well, let’s say half way down to their level, but down enough to make all our holier-than-thou statements hollow. 

We found ourselves, especially in social media and on television debates, using the same kind of language and promising un-maithree-like retribution to our opponents for all crimes committed.  This was wrong.  So very wrong.   We ended up sounding like our opponents and we can’t blame people for thinking ‘so same lot, same bad-mouthing, uncouth bunch of politicians’. 

*In a parallel universe called 'Humility'    

Read more

Mahinda vs Maithree in an ideal election

Pic courtesy www.therepublicsquare.com

A few days from now Sri Lankans will elect an all-powerful executive president.  It will be the seventh presidential election since J R Jayewardena created the office through the 1978 Constitution.  There are 19 in the fray.  The front runners or rather the incumbent with incumbent-edge and the main contender with edges of his own have made the speeches, heaped invective on each other.   Loyalty has been questioned, loyalties have shifted.  This way and that.  There are claims and counter-claims.  Trading of insults. 

It’s election-business as usual in Sri Lanka.  In a parallel universe though elections would be quite different.  Let’s take a stab.

In a parallel universe today’s friend would have been yesterday’s friend and will be tomorrow’s friend as well.  In a parallel universe objection would be expressed long before elections are called and with no room for doubt that objector (or ‘crosser’) is motivated by self interest. 

In a parallel universe election manifestos will not read as the auctioning of non-existing resources.  Manifestos, moreover, would not be so lengthy that few if any would read them.  They would also be precise and without contradiction. 

In a parallel universe, candidates and their supporters will think twice before unleashing venom on those in different camps.  Before they point out flaw they would examine if they are unblemished and if they so find that they have tumors themselves, will desist from firing salvos. 

In a parallel universe hero will not advertise him/herself and neither will he/she seek to describe or define others.  Similarly, villain will not have to be labeled as such for his/her villainy will be obvious.  The voter, consequently, will not have to peel off labels and other identifiers. 

In a parallel universe there will be no place for the fly-by-night self-righteous.  No one will claim ‘I am principled,’ but instead the voter will assess the true weight of ‘principle’ in the overall political persona. 

In a parallel universe there will be no place for end-justifies-means politics.  The goodness of outcome desired and for the making of which support is solicited will be reflected in every step taken, every word spoken and every single act.  Authenticity will be discerned less by reflection on policy statement than on action, what is praised and what is condemned.  Short cuts will be avoided and short-cut-takers duly cut short.  Convenience will be abhorred.  Principled behavior even if it costs will be observed and rewarded. 

In a parallel universe there will be a level playing field.  There won’t be non-citizens with vested interests pumping money into campaigns or so-called civil society outfits that see election-monitoring as a business.  State resources would not be abused by the parties in power and those who have abused state resources previously and who are now at the receiving end of things will not cry foul.  The police as well as those in charge of running the election would be strictly impartial; there would be no arm-twisting of these officials by politicians. 

In a parallel universe candidates would respect one another, agree to disagree, recognize strengths as well as perceived weaknesses.  In a parallel universe candidates will focus less on personality than on policy and program. 

In a parallel universe would-be voters will not be bombarded with unsolicited text messages and emails.  Walls, trees, rocks and other surfaces natural and otherwise will not be covered with posters in a parallel universe.  Candidates and their supporters will work on the assumption that the voter is intelligent and quite capable of making informed and rational choices; they will not be taken as consummate morons who need to be ‘educated’ about what’s what and who is who. 

In a parallel universe, ladies and gentlemen, we would not see what we’ve seen over the past six weeks or so.  That must say a lot about the state of affairs in our nation.  It also says something about us, the voters.  We really can’t pat ourselves on our backs, can we? 

Read more

Upul Jayasuriya un-knots himself

Upul Jayasuriya is the President of the Bar Association, champion of a thing called ‘independence of the judiciary,’ strident voice demanding ‘rule of law’ and unwavering defender of all kinds of freedom. He also heads an outfit that is funded by an organization called United States Agency for International Development (USAID) with a long and shady history of subterfuge aimed at destabilizing governments Washington dislikes and propping despotic regimes Washington adores.  He was livid when a minister by the name of Rishard Bathiudeen did his version of what J.R. Jayewardene’s goons did to judges of the Supreme Court in the early eighties.  The Bar Association went on strike because Rishard threated a judge and instigated an attack on the Mannar Magistrate Court. 

Rishard Bathiudeen has ‘crossed’.  He’s now in the Maithripala Sirisena camp. When he crossed he was embraced.  Warmly.  And this by a candidate and campaign that is hot on good governance, a better political culture, independence of the judiciary, the primacy of the law and so on.  Upul Jayasuriya could be thinking.  In a parallel universe he WOULD think.  Something on the following lines, probably. 

‘I hate elections.  Well, not all elections.  I really don’t mind minor elections, but important ones like the Presidential Election really knock me out.  Ok, I’ve had my run-ins with Ranil Wickremesinghe.  I even said that he will charge-sheeted in a people’s court.  I’ve wanted him ousted and when things calmed down, I’ve patched up with him.  My UNP activism is no secret.  However much I try to portray the BASL as an apolitical outfit, no one really buys the claim.

‘That said, I must say that I do try to come off less as a UNPer than as a regime-change agent.  To this end I’ve sided with other “regime-changers” whenever they latched on to any issue that had the potential to strengthen local and foreign forces determined to get Mahinda Rajapaksa out.   That’s safer than waving the green flag. Yes, I’ve grown smarter over the years.

‘Still, I am pretty peeved about this presidential election.  Not that I’ve not sounded jaded and off-key on account of my UNP connections; my party doesn’t have an impeccable track record.  The problem with elections like this is that it’s all about coalitions.  Well, it’s all about power, really, but in order to secure power, candidates have to form broad coalitions; the broader the coalition the better the chance of winning.  This is the political reality.

‘Now if I was not the President of the BASL and was just another UNP activist it would have been easy.  I wouldn’t have had to worry about getting confused about my multiple identities.  Now my hands are tied.  Worse, I am finding that I am often tongue-tied too. 

‘ There’s the case of Sarath N Silve for example.  I’ve lambasted him when he was essentially Chandrika’s boy and later Mahinda’s boy.  I had to shut up when he started opposing Mahinda.   Now he’s with the Opposition.  I am gutted because the UNP has found it necessary to leave Sarath alone.  It’s the same with Chandrika.  How we opposed her!  When I remember, I want to cry.  And now, she’s on our side (or is it that we are on her side?) and I don’t know with which sauce to eat my words. 

‘And now there’s this issue of Rishard.  I don’t have to hide the fact that I want regime-change.  I don’t have to hide the fact that right now the best opportunity to do so would be to support Maithripala Sirisena.  As President of the BASL I’ve always talked about “broader issues”.  Like good governance, independence of the judiciary, rule of law etc. etc.   The thrust of Maithree’s campaign is about such things.  But he has embraced this guy who has thumbed his nose at the entire judicial system of the country. 

‘Deep inside me I know that for me political loyalty overrides all these lovely concepts, but as BASL President I can’t really say it.  And since I’ve tossed those ideas around as though I consider them articles of faith, it is tough for me to openly support my party, the UNP.  Well, not my party really, because unfortunately it is not in a position to field a candidate, but to support the man the party supports, the proxy that we think will give our leader, Ranil, some kind of consolation prize. 

‘So yes, I hate this election.  Makes me want to resign as BASL President, really!’

Read more

The Chandrika-Ranil Talks

This happened a couple of weeks ago.  In a parallel universe.  Just got the transcript.  Here’s the background: Chandrika Kumaratunga and Ranil Wickremesinghe were discussing the presidential election, possible candidates, likely coalition partners and what not.  It was early morning (that’s 11 am for CBK). She sipped tea.  Ranil had black coffee.  They didn’t exactly talk about old times. 

‘I want my party back!’ CBK was forthright. 

‘You mean you want to party?’ Ranil chuckled. 

‘You know what I mean.  I want Maithri to win.  Once that happens and the executive presidency is scrapped, I can contest.  I can take over the party.’

‘Ambitious, ambitious!’ Ranil pointed out, and elaborated, ‘it doesn’t work that way, haven’t you read the constitution?  Let’s say Maithri wins.  On the 8^th of January he is just another candidate, on the 9^th he will be Executive President.  He will call the shots.  You will see every little twerp in the SLFP including those who are with Mahinda falling at Maithri’s feet.  Why on earth should they even bother about you?’

‘Because I am a Bandaranaike, that’s why,’ the lady was confident. 

‘Hmm.’

‘By the way, how do you see yourself in all this?’

‘Obviously I know that I can’t beat Mahinda.  In fact you can’t beat him either.  I think that’s something everyone knows.  I feel that something radical has happened in our society.  Our time is over.  I mean, people like you and I just can’t make ourselves look like ordinary people.’

‘Rubbish!  People are still serfs.  Look at Maithri.  He was being so deferential to me even when I was extremely condescending.  The same goes for you.  He calls you “sir”.  He needs us.’

‘Everyone needs everyone in that case.  When there’s an election, you don’t want to upset anyone.  He probably believed that you would deliver 40 MPs from the SLFP.’

‘Twenty,’ CBK corrected.

‘Ok, twenty, but it was a “no show”.  If what you’ve managed so far indicates anything you should drop this party leader idea.’

‘That’s funny.  Giving up the party leader idea…that’s not something you would ever do!’ CBK managed a grim through the grimace that materialized when home truths found target. 

Even Ranil smiled.  Then he said what he really came to say: ‘You should drop out of sight the next few weeks.’

‘What?’ CBK retorted. 

‘Well, the more you look like the power behind Maithri, the more it looks like a battle between MR and CBK.  You ruled for 11 years, he’s been in power for nine.  All Mahinda has to do is to say “this is between Mahinda Rajapaksa and Chandrika Kumaratunga”.  Track records will be compared.  He ended a war you know.   And he’s done stuff on the ground.  It would be hard to find a Chandrika-Footprint on Sri Lankan soil.’

The lady was livid.  She got the point though.  She was silent for a while.  Then she played her final trump.

‘I have the money.  At least let’s say whatever money embassies are willing to give will come to me.’

‘You think that will counter the edge that the incumbent has?  He’s not just the incumbent, he’s Mahinda Rajapaksa.  Known.  Criticized, but loved by many.  Admired even by his enemies.   People are grateful to him.  It’s not money that will win the day for Maithri.  It’s people.  Sorry to break the bad news, but you are bad news.’ 

‘And you are good news?’

‘No.  I am beginning to realize this.  If Maithri wins, then I see a few things happening.  He will own the SLFP.  He will preside over constitutional reform enacted by a national government.  We will have general elections and he will have a huge edge over the UNP.  I mean, it is unlikely that there will be a UNP-SLFP coalition.  Even if there was such a coalition, he would get to lead it.  So we would have to go our separate ways.  With Mahinda gone, the SLFP will abandon him.’

‘But at least you will still be the Leader of the Opposition!’ CBK comforted the man.

 

Read more

Human rights activists plan a trip to France

‘We have to do something about it,’ Psychosothy Paranamuttu started things off at Celery Café, Colombo 3 where some hardcore HR hawks had gathered to obtain comfort of companionship in trying times.

‘Yes, since we are not nationalists, we have to show nationalists and everyone else that we are internationalists,’ J.C. Galamuna opined.

‘I agree. We are beyond narrow identities. We don’t do identity politics.  We do identifying politics.  We are not racists. We are human racists.’  That was Bimalka Ferdinando.

‘I second that!’ Mohan Edirmanne, on a short visit home from Nepal, chipped in. 

‘Hey Mohan, long time no see.  Where were you hiding, man?’ Johanne Perera was curious.

‘Was in Nepal, doing this and that men, don’t you know?’

‘Did you order?’ Sankajaya Hattotuwegama was interested in getting on with the business at hand.

‘Your favorites, brother!’ Paranamuttu calmed the young man down.

‘I know I am not exactly an HR man, but we are all in this together, and I hope you don’t mind me tossing in my two pennies worth,’ Charlie Hadaland cautiously wanted inclusion.

‘By all means buddy, go ahead and give us the low down!’ Bimalka said graciously.

‘Ok. Thanks.  Here goes.  Judges at the European Court of Human Rights, that’s ECHR folks, have upheld France’s burqa ban, claiming that the ban encouraged citizens to live together.’

‘Three cheers for the liberal attitude of the French towards relationships and sex!’ Maurice Gonzales of the International Centre for Ethnic Cleansing didn’t hide his jubilation.

‘Er….Mo…I don’t think that’s what it’s about, is it Charlie?’ Psychosothy tried to keep things sober.

‘Yes. This is about a law introduced in 2010 which made it illegal for anyone to cover their face in a public place. While it also covers balaclavas and hoods, the ban has been criticized as targeting Muslim women,’ Hadaland explained.

‘Are you sure Charlie?  It sounds like something that can only come from the Sinhala Buddhist State, certainly not France,’ Bimalka wasn’t convinced. 

‘It’s France alright,’ Charles assured her and added, ‘the question is, since we are not nationalists and since our ideology is not contained by national boundaries, we can’t be twiddling our thumbs over this issue.’

‘Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere,’ Gonzales showed off his sloganeering skills. 

‘Charlie, you are right,’ Paranamuttu ignored Maurice, ‘we have talked so religiously about religious freedoms that we just can’t let this pass without comment.’

‘But we have not uttered a word about the lack of religious freedoms in Arab countries,’ Galamuna broke his silence, making people squirm in their chairs, despite long-standing growth of layers and layers on selectivity-tissue on their self righteous bums. 

‘That’s different Machang,’ Sankajaya brought in nuance, ‘because there are places where we can do things and places where we can’t.’

‘Yes, where soft religions are strong, there’s room for us to talk about religious freedoms and in its name defend all kinds of intrusions that would not be allowed in countries where intruding religions are dominant,’  Johanne Perera made a careful intervention to support Hattotuwegama.

‘But this is France,’ Paranamuttu reminded everyone of the matter at hand.

‘Let’s go there, let’s go there!’ Sankajaya was excited. 

‘Let’s not be hasty, after all the French would not see us as human rights activists but a bunch of brownies who are trying to teach them how to run their affairs,’ Mohan was cold sober.

‘No, they won’t.  They give us money and tell us how to teach Sri Lankans how to live their lives. It’s all in the spirit of cooperation, common human values and so on.  That’s what we’ve learnt from all the workshops we’ve attended, remember?’ Bimalka was optimistic.

‘You can’t be serious!’ Johanne said. 

‘Come on Bimalka, we can rant and rave about the BBS, but we won’t utter one word about the clashes in Kalmunai where two Muslim sects are fighting it out, do you even wonder why we don’t?’ Mohan put Bimalka on the spot.

‘We are moving away from the topic,’ Paranamuttu tried to keep the peace.

‘Hey guys, it’s getting late,’ Sankajaya looked at his watch.

‘True, true, let’s meet again and put together a project proposal to organize 1000 workshops all over Sri Lanka where we will debate whether or not we should go to France!’ Galamuna said. 

‘Who is picking up the bill?’ Johanne was always particular about such thing.

‘I will,’ Paranamuttu said, adding with a grin, ‘we will put it down to transport costs!’

Everyone laughed but in the midst of all that gaiety Bimalka had the presence of mind to whisper into Charlie’s ear, ‘Don’t you write about it!’

‘Hey, I am a friend, a beneficiary and I know what I am supposed to do and when to play deaf and dumb!’ Hadaland said reassuringly. 

‘As long as Colombo Telegraph doesn’t get to know about it!’ Paranamuttu hissed. 

As they trooped out of Celery Café, Mohan was struck by a thought.  He turned around and asked, ‘Hey J.C., how come you still go with the name Galamuna?’

The man was embarrassed.  He stammered out, ‘I know, I know, I’ve been busy, but don’t worry, I am going to change it to Kalmunai very soon.’

‘Good,’ said Mohan as he turned back, almost knocking down a woman in a burqa, to whom he quickly apologized, ‘Sorry Ma’am, please be assured, I am not a supporter of living together!’ 

The woman, obviously not making head or tail of it, gathered herself and walked away, entering the safe precincts of Celery Café.   

*All this in a parallel universe, of course 

Read more

Lament of the UNP constitution

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

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

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

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

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

Non-negotiable.

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

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

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

*In a parallel universe of course

Read more

An Indian Parliamentarian is despondent*

I should be celebrating my party’s unprecedented electoral victory.  I am not saying I was disappointed, don’t get me wrong. I am thrilled that the BJP took the Congress Party to the cleaners.  I am thrilled that Narendra Modi whipped Sonia and Rajiv Gandhi.  I raised a cheer or too.  I welled up watching my leader being sworn in as Prime Minister.  I had my euphoric moment.  But now is now, euphoric moment has passed and the morning after has dawned. 

I would be lying if I said I expected to be made a minister.  There are so many of us and even if we had a bigger cabinet, I would have been surprised if I was one of the chosen few.  Still, there’s a tinge of sadness even if I resolve to be reasonable about it.  For once, my nationalism took a step back and I looked wistfully at non-Indian realities. My gaze, in particular, shifted from Narendraji’s face to that of one of the guests, Mahinda Rajapaksa.  My thoughts left Delhi and landed in Colombo. I closed my eyes and started comparing and contrasting.  That cabinet and this, that constitution and ours.  If only I was a member of the Sri Lankan Parliament!

People might compare our 45 minister with the dozens and dozens of ministers in Sri Lanka, but they should also divide the number of MPs by the number of ministers.  That would show that we have a tiny cabinet which might fit one of the drawers in Sri Lanka’s massive ministerial chest.  If only I was a politician in Sri Lanka, I can’t help thinking.

After the ceremony I went home and did some research.  I figured out why Sri Lanka has so many ministers.  It’s about the constitution, the electoral system and about a landmark decision of the Supreme Court that helped MPs cross from one party to another. I should qualify the last: it’s about one-way traffic – from Opposition ranks to those of the Government. 

The proportional representation system, I found it, made it virtually impossible for any party to get an outright majority on its own at any general election. Coalitions were necessary.  Coalition agreements naturally included pledges of ministerial portfolios.  It gets even better after elections.  Governments that want to consolidate can move from a simple majority to enjoying a decisive advantage in numbers, even to the point of having a two-thirds majority.  All they have to do is to coax some opposition MPs to cross-over.  That’s on the surface.  I found out that the carrots offered are unbelievable, that they are rich in and of themselves and also have the potential to generate many more benefits. 

I found that the President can appoint a minister from any party represented in Parliament. In other words any MP is up for grabs, subject of course to the particular MP being willing.  Well, who would be unwilling if the offer made is tailored to stated requirement?  Heck it doesn’t even matter which party one contests from.  That political heaven, folks.  There’s always a good chance of being offered a place in Ministerial Paradise in Sri Lanka. 

Small is beautiful for many reasons, I’ve concluded.  India is just too big a monster.  Sri Lanka is perfect.  I don’t know the name of the judge but the man who sanctioned a pathway to a destination called ‘Minister’ ought to be called the Patron Saint of Politicians.     

I am in India.  I feel underprivileged, all of a sudden. 

*In a parallel universe of course

Read more

Kavan Rambukwella reflects on ‘being Sri Lankan’*

He was a player, a coach, an administrator, a selector, a consultant and promoter.  That’s when it came to rugby in Sri Lanka.  His skills in all these spheres are widely recognized to be legendary.  What if Kavan Rambukwella was alive right now?  What if he could and did send a missive from the Great Beyond?  What would he have to say?  He would have a lot to say given the many issues that plague the game here in Sri Lanka.  But what if he was asked to speak about foreign players donning the Sri Lankan jersey?  Let’s try to figure out…

Well, back in the day, it was a matter of pride to wear the Sri Lankan jersey.  It was a matter of pride to give it our all out there on the rugger grounds.  Of course we wanted to win, who does not?  But size, strength and skill of opponent never intimidated us.  Defeat disappoints, always.  Still, if we played hard, we could take defeat with grace. 

Back in the day, the thought of importing players to do duty for the country never entered our minds.  Countries were countries. Citizens were citizens.  There were things that could be traded but these didn’t fall into that category. 

Countries are countries, citizens are citizens; the fundament difference between the two is that the former can’t move this side of annexure or redefining of boundaries, while the latter can.  People cross borders.  They take up residence in other countries and in time even become citizens of countries they are resident in.  Some have done this because they believe they have a better chance of making the national team in Country X as opposed to their land of birth.  That’s the exception.

Time passed and with the passing of time there was a discernible move to put price tag to everything under the sun.  In the world market that was thus created, things like nation and nationalism too came under the hammer, in more ways than one.  The strange thing is that nation and nationalism, even when they were bartered, was done in their very name.  If this is done in the name of development why not in the name of sport, one could ask. 

There’s something fundamentally wrong here.  It has to do with integrity.  It has to do with deception.  If we want to call a pile of dung a heap of gold, no one will stop us but the chances are that we won’t smell of some exquisite perfume.  Still, if we are convinced that national pride has nothing to do with citizenship we should come out and say it straight. It’s dishonest to field a team called ‘Sri Lanka’ made of foreign players and then saying ‘we are doing this for the glory of the country’.

Some countries have got around this by instituting qualification criteria.  For example, to represent national teams of certain countries one has to be a resident for a certain number of years.  Over the counter citizenship is not granted just because some sports body wants to salvage national pride by winning at all costs, including the import of sportsmen and sportswomen. 

The way things are going we could very well have a Sri Lanka rugby team sans a single player born in this island.  They may or may not bring us glory but outside the official record, it is unlikely that victory would make our chests swell with national pride.

Things change of course, but certain things do not get buried easily.  Here’s a story that might help put some sense into our rugby officials.  The could watch Ron Ichikawa’s ‘Tokyo Orimpikku’ a documentary on the defining moments of the 1964 Olympic Games.  They would be stunned that a man who came last in the 10,000m race was also featured in the documentary, i.e. among all the winners.  ‘The Last Man’ was a Sri Lankan.  R Karunananda was placed 47^th out of 52 in the 5,000m race and started the 10,000m race with a bad cold and a considerably weakened body.  He ran.  He completed the race because he wanted his little daughter to be happy that her father didn’t give up.  He was among the leaders when the winner, Billy Mills of the USA breasted the tape.  That’s because Mills had lapped him 4 times by then.  When he continued the spectators were surprised. When he came around again they jeered.  The next time there was silence. When he finished he got a standing ovation.  Mills said the gold should have gone to Karu. 

Back in the day we played because we loved the sport.  We fought the good fight. We lost.  We did not come off second best as human beings.  In time to come Sri Lanka might do better than we did back then.  People might feel proud too.  But somewhere, someone, a true Sri Lankan, would not cheer the way that back in the day the spectators cheered and celebrated us, long after the long whistle.    

*In a parallel universe of course

Read more

Rishad Bathiudeen shows political ‘maturity’*

I am a seasoned politician.  I can hunt with the horse and run with the hare.  I know that at the end of the day the most important thing for a politician is getting elected and re-elected.  I know that elections are about people.  I know everyone won’t vote for me, but I also know that a politician must have a good sense of his constituency.  I know who are likely to vote for me and I know what should be done so that I can pocket their votes. 

I am a man of the people.  Read that as ‘the people who are likely to vote for me’.  Needless to say they are mostly Muslims.  That’s something that has got to do with demographic reality and not commonality of faith.  I am as much a follower of Prophet Muhammad as is any other Muslim politician, which can mean anything, of course, since ‘much’ is subjective.

But I am a man of the people, no one will dispute this.  I can and do walk around the villages.  I don’t need any security escort to do this.  I am comfortable being among my people.  There’s a reason.  I am a good politician. I know about elections. I know that elections are about voters.  I know who to keep happy. I know how to make them happy. 

I am a man of the people and I am a man who knows my terrain, political and otherwise.  I know the district.  Very well.  I know the borders.  I know what lands are vested with which authority.  That’s the whole point that a lot of people missed.  Well, since I am being honest and humble here, let me say that I was doing what any politician would do: I brought a bunch of journalists to Wilpattu. I had a story to tell.  I told it.  It is not my fault that many of them swallowed whatever I told them. 

It’s simple, really.  I said I did not know if people lived on the border of Wilpattu.  I said I didn’t ask them to settle there.  No one really investigated the truth of that claim.  Not my fault. My role in creating/supporting the Jathika Bala Sena, similarly, went under the media radar. Is that my fault? No.  I am a good politician.  I know my vocation.  It is not my business to teach journalism to journalists.  If they don’t ask the right questions and if they have poor investigative skills, it’s their problem, not mine.  The fact remains that my supporters were kind of the Jathika Bala Sena.  I could say that it is not my fault that the Jathika Bala Sena bought my story uncritically, but that would be a tad dishonest on my fault.  Someone could have concluded that there’s no reason why Rishad’s creature should object to Rishard.  No one put two and two together and come up with four. Not my fault.

The most important thing is, I am a good politician. I know my terrain.  What the journalists didn’t pick up was how someone who claims to know his terrain can say in the same breath ‘I do not know if people lived on the border of Wilpattu’.  If I knew my terrain, then I would know that some of my people are squatting in the bugger zone of Wilpattu.  It’s not my fault, again, that the relevant questions were not asked.

I am a good politician.  A good politician is all about strategy.  In this case, I have a simple strategy.  I promote encroachment actively, subtly or by looking the other way.  I am smart enough to know that someone will raise questions down the line.  So I concoct fictions about history, traditional homelands and such.  Yes, I tore that page from Tamil chauvinists.  Anyway, I also play the religion card.  I can always accuse objectors of being religious fundamentalists determined to give Muslims a raw deal. I can call it ‘majoritarianism’, another word I picked from Tamil chauvinists.  When everything fails, I can plead ‘give them alternative land’. 

So what do we have?  We have landless voters getting land.  They are happy, I am happy. Indeed, the Wild Life Department is happy that they got squatters off their land.  The BBS can claim victory.  I can count on state authorities to come down hard on any Sinhalese or Buddhists who try the same encroachment-eviction-relocation trick.  After all, they won’t be accused of ‘majoritarianism’ or religious fundamentalism if and when they kick out Sinhalese and Buddhists. This I know. 

Guess what is most important?  I get re-elected! 

 *In a parallel universe, of course!

Read more

Sajith speaks about his dilemma*

To be frank I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.  I could laugh for many reasons.  I could cry too.  Let me explain why. 

Recently some of my colleagues in the United National Party visited Hambantota.  Now President Rajapaksa, his brothers, sons and other relatives act as though Hambantota belongs to them.  Sure, they’ve been there for generations. I am a relative newcomer.  But then again, it’s my ‘home base’ now and the people have thought fit to elect me to represent them.  I have a claim.  Since I have a claim, I have a say.  I have a right to a tear. Or a smile.

The gentlemen from the UNP didn’t come anywhere near during the Southern Provincial Council election.  They hadn’t scheduled a courtesy call either.  That’s bad.  Made me want to cry.  

Maybe that’s because I have not been kind to them.  They probably know that I invited people kicked out of the party to speak at my rallies.  The invitees blasted the party leaders, including the Leadership Council.  The good MPs who visited Hambantota would not have been pleased.  Still, they had to come to MY backyard.  That made me smile.

They were attacked and some of them manhandled by some local thugs led by the Mayor of Hambantota Eraj Fernando.  That made me sad.  Made me want to cry.  On the other hand, I know as almost everyone knows that there’s no love lost between that set of gentlemen and myself.  They don’t exactly love me and I don’t love them either.  I am an electorate man and some of them are national-list men.  I am a people’s person and some of them are release-writers.  I talk, I walk.  Now they know what real politics is like. Now they know what kind of challenges the rank and file of the party, the men and women on the ground, have to face when taking on the regime.  I couldn’t stop the smirk, sorry.  Still, there’s a tear that swells to ear and that swelling wipes off smirk. I am sad they had to face a barrage of rotten eggs and tomatoes. It makes me cry to think they had to see a man brandishing a pistol running at them. 

I have other reasons to be sad too.  The media made me sad. Some media institutions tried to implicate me in the attack. I am not an attacking person.  I won’t attack anyone. I didn’t bring thugs to Sirikotha.  I prefer to put in a word here and there, look the other way, and when it gets so hot that I might get burnt, I appeal for calm.  I am sad that it was suggested that I sent thugs to ‘receive’ my UNP colleagues. 

It made me laugh too.  I mean, who would swallow that kind of lie?  No one believed it.  As anyone would have expected, there was stuff caught on camera. It was clear who was armed and who was throwing the punches. Sajith Premadasa was nowhere near. 

All this made me sad. Some of it made me laugh.  The saddest thing for me, however, is the fact that the UPFA thugs have not seen me as a big enough reason to worry about to attack me.  They have ample opportunity because I spend a lot of time in Hambantota.  They’ve never bothered me. I’ve not been attacked.  I feel bad.  I wish I caught a rotten egg on my face once in a while.  That would mean that someone takes me seriously, someone considered me a threat.   I am livid that these thugs consider the visiting MPs to constitute threat.  I am even more angry that they have not even tossed a pebble in my direction.  AM I NOT A THREAT?  AM I NOT A CHALLENGE?  WHY IS NO ONE TAKING ANY NOTICE OF ME? WHY, WHY, WHY? 

I can’t take it. I can’t go on.  I need tissues.  A boxful of them.

*In a parallel universe 

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