Rasika Jayakody's gypsy heart

 

Almost twenty five years ago I met a young man at the now defunct Rivira Media Corporation. I am not sure if he was an intern, a trainee journalist or a full time employee. He was just out of school and must have been around 19 or 20 years of age.

A friendly young man, Rasika Jayakody was always up for chit-chat either in the Rivira editorial space, on the staircase that joined or rather separated Rivira and its sister paper ‘The Nation,’ where I worked,  or outside the building. I can’t remember exactly what we talked about, but it was certainly a pleasure telling him things and listening to what he had to say.

At the time, I was the senior journalist, but later Rasika surpassed me in newspapers and of course in the broader field of mass communication. And poetry too, I may add, although I sometimes lament the fact that he settled down to prose rather than verse.

I left the company a few months after the two papers were launched. I remember three things related to Rasika from that time.  

First, I encouraged him to write in English. Not long after leaving Rivira he joined Ceylon Today (and not its sister paper in Sinhala, ‘Maubima’) and still later was appointed Editor-in-Chief of the Daily News.

Second. When I left ‘The Nation,’ I wrote probably the longest letter I’ve ever written to someone. It was to the founder CEO and my dear friend Krishantha Cooray. I offered my assessment of each and every member of the staff, including Krishantha himself, the editors, journalists, marketing team and other employees, among whom was another dear friend, Ananda Thushara, who made tea and would later becoming a journalist himself.

I remember expressing my admiration for two young journalists in particular. First, Chamara Lakshan, at the time paid just a retainer, later became the Editor of Silumina and the now defunct Resa, at Lake House, but sadly passed away a few years ago. And Rasika. I wrote, I remember, ‘Chamara and Rasika are the future of Rivira.’ Events unanticipated and, in retrospect, sad, took us all far away from Rivira and Rivira itself fell into ruin.

Third. Rasika was envied. Some of those who resented him latched on to the fact that he was the nephew of the founding editor of Rivira, Upali Tennekoon. From what I know of Upali Aiya, he would never have given a relative such an opportunity if the particular individual was not up to the task. Rasika was, and how! He was all over the newspaper, to put it in a nutshell. However, he was just a cub journo and when circumstances forced Upali Aiya to leave, his detractors pounced on him. Or tried to.

Rasika probably knew he could do better and left not long afterwards but not before he issued a simple challenge. It was simple. He suggested that they all write an essay about the ‘pol gaha (coconut tree)’ and get an erudite panel of judges to assess. Obviously it was a challenge, made in jest but could have been dead serious as well; a challenge that no one could or would take, but my hunch is that had it been taken Rasika would have won hands down.

The years have passed. Looking back it seems that Rasika was never interested in a career. He was not interested in moving up the ladder. Indeed, he skipped quite a few rungs unlike regular journalists who had to do the hard yards to move up the editorial hierarchy. His ability was unmistakable. Krishantha, who was made Chairman of Lake House in 2015, handpicked Rasika, Chamara and others who had worked with him at Rivira.

Rasika may have been restless. Maybe that’s who he is. Gypsy-like. He moved around. Newspapers. Radio. Television. Podcasts. YouTube. Facebook and other social media platforms. If he was all over the Rivira newspaper back then he’s all over all media now. Versatile in language, genre and medium. I am sure the late Ajith Samaranayake, who wrote equally well in English and Sinhala, would have been highly impressed.  

Rasika Jayakody has followers. Tens of thousands of followers. And of course fans. I’ve read and listened and am in awe: he does so much in so many different ways and he’s not yet 40 years of age. In fact, he still looks 20, and what he does is marked by the freshness, courage, optimism and supreme confidence that is most evident in young people of that age.

He has written six books so far. Five in the non-fiction genre and the sixth, a novel, ‘A Gypsy Heart.’ This Saturday, at the Bishop’s College Auditorium, Rasika will be signing copies of this book at the second ‘Akasa Sutra’ concert series which Rasika the Accomplished Marketer has dubbed ‘The Gypsy Chapter.’

I asked him what seemed to be the obvious question: is it biographical? He said, ‘no,’ a love story, which, as you know, is all about blurry things. Evasive. Piques curiosity. Subtle, but true as well.

Where will he go next? Who can tell? In fact it’s good we don’t know and cannot speculate. Rasika will surprise people. As long as he can. Even if it’s something seemingly incongruous as an essay competition on the subject of a coconut tree. He not only understands that the universe is contained in a grain of sand but will extract the finer and most delightful elements from the most nondescript clod of earth.

We should applaud. I do.

 

[This article was published in the Daily News under the weekly column title 'The Recurrent Thursday']

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The forgotten files of abduction, assault and assassination

In short all disappearances must be investigated.  You cannot point to some ‘arranged-disappearances’ such as those of many LTTE cadres as reason for not initiating inquiries into all disappearances.  You cannot say ‘they were terrorists’; even the disappearances of such individuals should be investigated.  



After the late Lalith Athulathmudali was killed in April 1993, many pointed fingers at the then president Ranasinghe Premadasa whose wrath the murdered man had earned by breaking away from the United National Party along with Gamini Dissanayake and others to form the Democratic United National Front (DUNF).  President Premadasa vehemently denied involvement and publicly declared his innocence. 

A commission was appointed by President Chandrika Kumaratunga to probe the assassination as part of an election pledge, even through investigations carried out by the Police and Scotland Yard had concluded that Athulathmudali was killed by Appiah Balakrishnan aka Ragunathan, allegedly an LTTE affiliate.  That findings of the commission implicated President Premadasa by the logic of association.  Later, these conclusions were set aside in the Writ Application Nos. 1, 2 and 3 of 1999 filed in the Supreme Court by Sirisena Cooray, and former DIG Seneviratne.

Now, more than 23 years after Athulathmudali was assassinated, his brother Dayantha, speaking the Lalith Athulathmudali Memorial Lecture on May 9, 2016, has called for a fresh probe.  Much has been written about these several investigations and the entire affair has been shrouded by controversy and intrigue, leaving the general public still in doubt as to the true identity of the assassin and his paymaster.  As such, Dayantha Athulathmudali has all the right to demand a fresh probe. 

Some might object pointing out to the date of the crime and the length of time that has since passed.  However, if truth is the objective then time cannot be an objection.  This is exactly what’s wrong with the various calls for probes regarding alleged war crimes.  It is wrong to privilege a particular time period, especially in a war that lasted close to three decades. 

A death does not become a lesser death with the passing of time.  A crime remains a crime of the same magnitude even a hundred years later.  Victims, similarly, are not lesser victims as others become victims of similar atrocities.  If closure for the near and dear is what is sought, then it has to be ‘closure for all’ and not ‘closure for some’.  Dayantha Athulathmudali’s appeal, I believe, has helped emphasize this point with regard to the pernicious nature of war crimes probes.  It does more.  

For example, we periodically read missives from various human rights outfits (with or without dubious agenda and appalling track records with respect to selectivity and exaggeration) listing the names of ‘journalists’ who have ‘disappeared’.   Prageeth Ekneligoda is just one of them.  The adamant refusal of such do-gooders to explore the full identities of these ‘journalists’ is troubling, to put it mildly.  Journalists are no saints and a media identification card is no license to violate the law.   If a journalist is also a terrorist, he or she should be described as such and not simply as ‘a journalist’.  The issue here is that such refusal is an obstacle when it comes to investigating wrongs done to real journalists.   

This is not to say that any extra-judicial killing (for example) should go un-investigated.  That’s a different issue altogether.  The relevance of the Athulathmudali case here is the strange silence from most quarters about the attacks on two prominent journalists: Upali Tennakoon (Editor-in-Chief, ‘Rivira’) and Keith Noyhr (Associate Editor, ‘The Nation’).  The former was attacked and sustained stab injuries. He survived and eventually left the country.  The latter was abducted and assaulted.  He may very well have been killed had not his ‘disappearance’ been reported early and his friends moved in quickly and effectively to mobilize all possible resources to find him.  His abductors let him go.  Keith also left the country. 

Noyhr was abducted in May 2008.  Tennekoon was attacked in January 2009.  That they are still alive is irrelevant to the fact of investigation.  Their assailants are still at large in the eyes of the law. Almost everyone seems to have forgotten that the Lalith Athulathmudali assassination case has not been closed. Some people thought fit to exhume Wasim Thajudeen (a rugby player, not a journalist). Others are determined to find the fate of Ekneligoda (whose journalistic credentials are thin but who has a fat CV in terms of being involved in various rackets).  The point is that vocation does not matter; the fact of assault and/or murder does.  The point is that time-elapsed is not a factor in the decision to investigate to conclusion; investigation matters. 

In short all disappearances must be investigated.  You cannot point to some ‘arranged-disappearances’ such as those of many LTTE cadres as reason for not initiating inquiries into all disappearances.  You cannot say ‘they were terrorists’; even the disappearances of such individuals should be investigated.  What is suspicious in all this is the selectivity in action and non-action as well as the ‘heart-rending’ cries of those seeking justice for the abducted, assaulted and disappeared. 

Keith Noyhr and Upali Tennakoon are two names that have been conveniently (shall we say?) absented from the violence-discourse in recent years.  Just like Lalith Athulathmudali.   

The question is simple: why?  We have a government whose movers and shakers have shouted themselves hoarse on the subject of human rights, law and order, investigations into allegations of abuse and so on.   

There’s been enough screaming.  Let’s see some action.  The demand is not for relevant authorities to drop all cases and pick up the files on Athulathmudali, Noyhr and Tennekoon only.  All files need to be re-opened.  These ones cannot be let un-opened. 

This article was published in the Daily Mirror (May 12, 2016).  

Malinda Seneviratne is a freelance writer.  Email: malindasenevi@gmail.com.  Twitter: malindasene.

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