They are “OUR” People … “MY” People …

Some perspectives from the “war torn generation”

A victorious day – 19th May 2009:

Those words were uttered by His Excellency President Rajapakshe addressing parliament in the wake of that historic and momentous occasion, on 19th of May 2009, when our Commander-in-Chief proudly proclaimed the resounding victory of our forces over the tyrants of terror; H.E. was referring to our Tamil brethren, he went on to assure them that “this defeat was not over the Tamil citizens” but of the cowardly enemy of this State who had finally resorted to hiding behind the very lives they were meant to be fighting for, those of innocent Tamils. Well said indeed, Mr. President!

That evening of the 19th we celebrated our Son’s 2nd Birthday, and as young Abhiru Chrishen Shadrach was blowing out the candles on his cake, I could not help but think what a fortunate lad he was, to have been born on such a glorious day for Sri Lanka and more importantly, to a generation that would hopefully have a violence-free tomorrow than we ever had; a ray of hope was certainly beginning to flicker with the silencing of terror, Sri Lanka had become One Country, One Nation, One People!

My “War-torn Generation”

Many belonging to my generation, in contrast, were born into violence. I’m told of the several occasions the car that was rushing my mother to hospital (for me to be born) was stopped during the insurrection of 1971. When we entered school in January 1978 terrorism was beginning to show its ugly face; Doriappah had been assassinated in 1975 and the thitherto enjoyed peace and goodwill amongst the Singhalese and Tamils were slowly giving way to suspicion and mutual resentment; not overtly at the time nor in any major scale, but it was there nonetheless.

Then came that unfortunate July of 1983 when we were in Grade 5. At just 11 years and having been playing on the same field as those chaps in the “C class” just the day before, how in the world were we to understand the world that was burning around us? I remember how several Tamil parents were the first to rush to Prep School and collect their kids, some of whom never returned to school at all thereafter, we heard of some that had migrated and some others, who knows? I can vaguely remember a somewhat forceful classmate of mine (in the “B class”) taking out his divider from the box of mathematical instruments, opening it out and waving it around menacingly (aiming towards the “C class”) in purported “self-defence”! Only much later on I came to realise what an effect all that hatred and anger would have had on us as children.

We were perhaps slightly more fortunate than others in not-so multi ethnic schools. Since we had always grown up, played and studied together within the same school culture and curriculum this whole Tamil/Sinhalese thing was never permitted to get the better of us; indeed it hasn’t to date, and we share the same friendships fostered over decades and don’t even see one another as “different”. It was also perhaps fortunate that we had several friends in the “opposite community”, such as this “uncle” I remember (named Pakiarajah) who worked at the General Treasury with my father. We would visit them in Jaffna and they would in turn visit us here; these were the days of travel warrants on the Yal Devi or Air Ceylon. I remember how that “aunty” was pregnant with their first child and how my father brought them all to our house one night during those troubled times in ’83, and how, when the mobs ended up at our gate, the old man braved the war front armed with nothing but a “wicket pole” from my junior cricket set; luckily they all knew us and he did not need to proceed to battle to test the capabilities of his “lethal weapon”.

However things were not that pleasant for a majority of us of that generation, as subsequent events and the way in which our youth reacted to the situation would show. Some of us (who could afford it) went abroad, several others had their education disrupted and went in for employment whilst thousands of youth, both Tamil and Singhalese took up arms and went to war – some, never to return!

Socio-Political Consequences:

With that infamous “dhal-drop” we started hearing words like sovereignty, territorial integrity for the first time. Pacts were signed, devolution in the form of the 13th Amendment to the 2nd Republican Constitution was offered, visiting heads of state were hammered by those considered to be patriots by some, parliamentary terms were extended by “kala gedi/lampu elections” and the drama continued; whilst some of us watched not understanding anything at all, others (perhaps more disillusioned) took to the jungles and started their own liberation struggle. Who could blame them, with schools and universities constantly closed, citizens being killed or maimed by the dozen and even several highly secured political leaders paying the ultimate price on a regular basis; some spoke of cricket scores whilst others recited death tolls; we were a generation stuck in an abyss of hopelessness and lost opportunities.

I suppose there was once before this another time that some of us regained some hope, maybe towards the end of 1993 or early 1995. Certainly the victory at the World Cup in 1996 was a booster, but I am now speaking “politically”. When we were in our late teens or early twenties there was talk of a “dove of peace“, and hope of a reconciled and reunited nation. Our own disillusioned brethren had joined mainstream politics, some Tamil brethren had also opted to lay down arms and most importantly hope was ripe of a dialogue with our Tamil brethren who remained terrorists, a peaceful and negotiated settlement to years of bloodshed; however that too was short lived and not to be, and once again we became a generation let down, disgruntled and dissatisfied.

We Reach Our 30’s … Victory, Finally, Is Ours:

The millennium came and went, the war continued, yet some more from amongst us remaining joined the massive exodus (or the brain-drain) and we that remained reached our thirty’s; some got married and had children, others not so unlucky remained single and yet others we had laid to rest much before their time, because they were the ones who went to war on our behalf. I’m sure many of my batch-mates (when reading this) would immediately have their minds run back to those names of our heroes who paid the ultimate price for our sake; some of whom we somberly carried into College precincts to bid them a final farewell at their “home by the Sea”! Was it all for political gain? Was there any rationale or reason behind this humungous loss of life? What of our brethren of equal vintage that fought in the Vanni jungles with a cyanide-capsule around their necks? Who will answer for these irremediable and irreparable losses of youth and life suffered by our generation?

I saw a smart cartoonist’s drawing on the paper the other day and could hardly suppress my laugh – it was a drawing of (the now confirmed as deceased) leader of the LTTE posing the question as to who ordered the closure of Mavil Aru (kawda yako Mavil Aru wahanna kiwwe?) This was the beginning of the end undoubtedly and I am certain that a majority of our “generation of war” will agree that we badly needed this ending. Heroic brethren of our generation who braved the warfront like Hasalaka Gamini, who was appropriately presented with the highest military honour, that of Parama Weera Wickrama Vibhushana for paying the ultimate sacrifice deserved this end; since many an ode will recited and songs sung for our heroic forces I shall leave it at that. I salute you brother, I thank and honour you for giving your tomorrow for mine and for being brave enough to do what I was not; however that is not the present theme of my discussion.

So Where Do We Go From Here?

Is this the end then, we have won and we celebrate (rightfully so) but what thereafter? When we cannot eat anymore kiri buth and the papara bands have deafened us ad nauseam what is left for our generation of war? I believe that this was the most prominent part in H.E. the President’s address of 19th May – the need to reassure our Tamil brethren and the need to rebuild our homeland! We must resolve the need (whether genuine or induced) for our Tamil brethren to have taken up arms in the first place; to find a solution that would ensure that no citizen of this country would ever be led to such an extreme ever again. In as much as we lament the loss of those known to us here in the South, we need to also hear the cries of our brothers in the North who may have spent the major part of their lives not even knowing what school books (in their childhood) or nightclubs (in their youth) are, which many of us here in Colombo of the same generation have been fortunate enough to enjoy even though lost in the midst of a war.

As to whether the answer lies in greater autonomy, an Indian modeled Quasi-Federalism or simply an effective and unsuspicious implementation of the 13th Amendment itself assuring the totality of the intended devolution to the periphery from the centre, or whether we find our very own “home-grown solution” as referred to by H.E.; whatever it is, policy makers, you need to decide swiftly and effectively.

There is that old Sri Lankan saying that those that fall into the well must come out through the opening itself, of course it sounds much better when said in Singhalese (lindey wetichcha eka lin katinma goda wenna onei); I don’t think our generation has a choice in the matter. We must now actively involve ourselves in rebuilding this nation. At least after three decades of our lifetime lost in war, we have now been given a very real prospect of building a strong and vibrant nation, a Sri Lanka that we can truly be proud of and that can stand up to any other nation on its own right! Therefore devolution, development and perhaps even repatriation must be the order of the day; the latter since I do believe that we need to encourage those of us who left our shores during these turbulent times to return, and to stand with us shoulder to shoulder in rebuilding this nation again – there is much to be done brethren and time is of the essence!

There is this old Trini Lopez song that has always fascinated me, the lyrics of which I have very arbitrarily changed (for the occasion), which can be sung as follows:

This land is your land…this land is my land…From the point at Pedro… to the one at Dondra…

From Sigiri, Dambulla…to Katharagama…This land was made for you and me….

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