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Rearranging prejudices

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William James once said that a great many people think they are thinking when they are really rearranging their prejudices.  That’s a quote sent by my quote-provider, the late Errol Alphonso.  I think James was being ungracious.  The thinking comes first, the rearranging later.  Once you’ve decided to rearrange prejudices, the only thinking required pertains to modality.  Such people might want you to believe they are in a thinking process; the truth though is that they’ve finished with thinking.  

The past few weeks I’ve been reflecting on the fact that people change.  They switch loyalties.  They fall in and out of love and in love again.  The truths they believe in are junked and replaced with other truths. Nothing wrong in any of these things.  It happens all the time. It is done all the time.  You can believe something to be correct based on what you know.  Tomorrow you might unearth some information that shatters your assumptions.  The conclusions, naturally, collapse.  You have to build a new edifice of ‘truth’.

In some instances such processes are marked by absolute honesty and integrity.  You can, for example, conclude something based on incomplete information and flawed analysis.  Additional facts can subsequently emerge.  The new information can be processed in less erroneous ways.  The result is a different set of conclusions.  One can be but is not required to be humble about error and explain the logic of the new stand one takes, except of course when the intervening ‘factor’ has nothing to do with truth, additional information and superior analysis but the factoring of unadulterated self-interest. 

When self-interest overrides all else, the first casualty is truth.  Self-justification requires a quick and seamless burial of truth, along with other casualties such as integrity, principles, values etc.  No one is perfect. I like to think that among those who err in favour of self-interest the best are those who are upfront about it.  ‘I did it for the money’ such a person might say, for example.  Now that’s ‘redeeming’ in my book. 

Next there are those who have rearranged their prejudices but out of embarrassment, don’t talk about it.  They too are sufferable.  One notes patterns of course; they move out of old circles and inhabit new ones, adopt behaviour patterns appropriate to the now preferred prejudices, even if they don’t exactly wave the flag of the club they have obtained membership from.  They’ve made a choice.  That’s ok.  We all do.  They can’t really defend this choice given statements they’ve made earlier. That’s ok too. In the very least they don’t embarrass themselves nor insult others by trying to paint self-interest as sudden revelations that require loyalty-shift in order to further some collective interest. 

There are no laws against having prejudices or changing them.  One can say there are ethics pertaining to these things but then again these are seldom powerful enough to impose limiting clauses.  We have to accept the reality that while it can be hard to forgive someone else, there’s nothing easier than forgiving ourselves.  Fooling others is difficult but self-delusion is the easiest thing on earth.  Especially in public.  Once you are at home, in bed for example, right and wrong come to interrogate, haunt and torture. Out there in ‘society’, one has to act virtuous.  And, as is always the case when it comes to acting, you’ve got to get inside the part, you have to rehearse ‘virtuous’ at least in appearance since in substance you cannot (just like on stage; you are no prince, but you have to look and act ‘prince’ in Hamlet). 

None of this should bother anyone except when such prejudice-shifts impact others, a whole lot of others.  It is not about someone falling in love, deciding that the object of love was not what he/she appeared to be at first, falling out of love consequently and falling in love (with someone else) thereafter.  Such prejudice-change is understandable, common and eminently defensible on all counts. Then again, there are situations, where people assert certain positions, realize that the costs of assertion outweigh benefit (to self that is, and not society) and rearrange parameters to effect location-change.  In other words, move to a more comfortable and comforting place. 

When the issue is public or refers to a larger collective than say ‘circle of friends’ or a love-situation, then others need to be wary. They need to keep watch. They need to note argument-shift, the dropping of names, the failure to mention certain things and the inexplicable negligence of pertinent fact. When prejudices promote certain policies over others, push for certain outcomes over others, the privileging of particular social class over other etc., their shifting/rearrangement need to be viewed soberly. It’s not like lover-changing. 

The interesting thing is that in appearance, the two sets of procedure (lover-change and policy-preference shift) are similar.  There’s the classic and time-tested method of avoiding eye contact, obtained best by absenting oneself from the object that is sought to be avoided.  If, on the other hand, you can’t be avoided, then one can discern a certain dodgy-element in eye and conduct.  If you manage to button-hole the person, a lot of babbling results, typically with a slew of big words no one understands, a lot of technicalities and verbal somersaults. 

Once it is established that prejudices have been rearranged, it is easy to operate. You have to know when and where you can get played out and identifying the player is the first step in minimizing negative fallout.  The more important thing is to identify the shifter early.  You have to read the signs.  You can tell, generally, when your lover is on his/her way out of your life or when he/she is pushing you out of heart and life.  Think about it. The signs are not too different.  Avoidance.  Blaming. Justification of that which is unthinkable.  Shift in hangout-choice.  Shift in vocabulary. Facial expressions.  Degree of comfort in different kinds of company.  Difference in preferred distance. 

When people rearrange their prejudices, contrary to what William James said, they don’t think they are thinking, they WANT us to believe that they are in ‘thinking mode’.   When others rearrange prejudices, we need to take note. We need to think.

msenevira@gmail.com

Resurrect the General Practitioner!

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If you have a persistent headache you might rub some medicinal oil on your head or take a Paracetamol tablet.  If you have aches and pains, there’s peyava, there’s koththamalli with some venivelgetaor Siddhalepa.  Even a cat medicates itself, chewing on kuppameniya when feeling out of sorts.  A little boy trips and bruises his knee and his friends will administer first aid for example in the form of grating a kurumbettiya on a rough surface and packing the pulp on the wound.  It is when the ‘bad feeling’ persists that people think of a vedamahattaya or physician in general, although in these dengue-scare days worried parents rush their fever-ridden children to hospital (after making them take a blood test of course). 

Now there’s nothing wrong in self-diagnosis when it comes to slight temperature, a bout of sneezing or body-aches after a hard day’s work.  Nothing wrong in self-administering some goda vedakamsuch as coriander, samahan, jeevanior Siddhalepa.  The danger lies when non-specialists either diagnose or prescribe or do both in the case of serious illnesses.  In a world where even the best medical practitioners (like those in other professions) err, it would be downright silly for a layman to believe he can do as good a job as a physician.  Sadly, that’s what a lot of people do.

There was a time when patients knew that doctors knew better.  They were not presumptuous.  They did not self-diagnose. They waited their turn and when they were called they described ailment to the best of their ability, answered questions, let the doctor conduct his or her own rudimentary tests, conclude and prescribe a course of treatment.  If the doctor felt that a condition was serious to warrant examination by a person who specializes in the particular area the patient would be referred to a relevant specialist.  That was what a GP or General Practitioner did.

Today, however, except in areas so remote that the first ‘port of call’ was the local physician, patients have taken over some of the critical functions of the GP.  They decide first that they are so seriously ill that they need to see a specialist.  In other words they presume that they, more than anyone else including a GP have a better idea about what’s wrong with them or which part of the body needs specialist attention.  So they ask around.  They do their own referrals. 

It is of course good business for ‘clinics’, consultancy centers and private hospitals, but all things considered it is an unnecessary cost produced by arrogance and ignorance on the part of patients (or their loved ones).   

What is forgotten or rather what patients have ‘learned’ to forget is the role of the GP.  The GP provides person-centered, continuing, comprehensive and coordinated whole-person healthcare to individuals and families in particular communities.  It is in recognition of all this that GPs are called ‘family doctors’. 

The GP is an integral and central component of an effective healthcare system in a country.  The GP is cognizant of a patient’s needs, values and desired health outcomes and these are central to evaluations carried out.  Long term relationships with patients are critical to understanding and trust.  A continuing doctor-patient relationship has a positive impact on wellbeing and resilience.  Take that out, or rather replace it with what is essentially and ridiculously a self-assessment element, and you deny yourself all the benefits freely available (in Sri Lanka as of now) that make for better health. 

Most importantly, a GP is endowed with high level diagnostic and therapeutic skills.  Deny yourself that and you pay for it (with considerable interest) when health falls apart.  All you have to remember is that a GP will yield a referral if and only if it is necessary for specialized treatment.  A specialist, in turn, will treat a GP’s referral with the sobriety it deserves.  Sure, he or she will treat you if consulted but might very well prescribe exactly what the GP would have (counting out of course the compulsion to over-prescribe the unnecessary for monetary rewards from the pharmaceutical industry). 

Today, in Sri Lanka, there is no regulation over referrals.  The GP has been effectively axed from the process and exists more as default option than as integral component of an effective healthcare system.  Those responsible ought to seriously consider re-installing the General Practitioner in his/her true role as far as patients are concerned: first stop this side of medical emergencies.  

Memories of 'Mihira' and days when life was so much sweeter

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The cover page of the maiden copy of 'Mihiri'
Some years ago someone made a suggestion: ‘write about your first love’.  That’s a hard one.  It’s not because writing about love or lovers is difficult.  It’s the ‘first’ part that’s difficult to figure out.  I concluded around that time that the ‘last love’ is also the first.  But I responded to the request. I wrote about my favorite Montessori teacher. 

But there’s love and love.  People and things.  We use the term love loosely and therefore we are always in love with a multiplicity – people, places, things.  Looking back now if there was one relationship that shaped thinking, feeling, life and living from the early days of exploration, it is the mihira paththare

‘Mihira’, literally ‘sweetness’, was a weekly newspaper for children.  Mihira celebrated its 50thanniversary a week ago.  We (i.e. Mihira and I) are roughly of the same age.  There’s a difference though.  I grew up with Mihira but Mihiraremained a child.  I lost childhood and child, Mihira didn’t.  It took me decades to understand the wisdom of not growing up and it’s quite a struggle to recover child once that happens, but Mihira didn’t have that problem.  Mihira was allowed to be a child.  Indeed Mihira was not required to ‘grow up’.  No one said ‘It’s time you grew up!’  No one said ‘Grow up and be a man (or woman)’. 

Mihirawas not a best friend or rather was never seen as ‘friend’.  However, while ‘best friends’ came and went, Mihira stayed.  Didn’t utter a single word but communicated so much.  Mihira educated me, showed me places I’ve never visited, introduced me to people I had never met and most importantly, entertained me in ways that no adult could.

'Mihira' at 50
It all happened in the early 70s.  I would have been 6 or 7.  It is hard to pin down the true ‘age’ of that kind of newspaper.  At times Mihira seemed to be about 5 years old, at times 12 or 13 and sometimes even older.  Mihira came to me during holidays.  ‘Holidays’ back then was synonymous with ‘Kurunegala’ and my maternal grandparents’ house.  

My grandfather bought the ‘Daily News’ and ‘Observer’.  He was old and his eyesight was poor.  He would get one of his grandchildren to read out the headlines.  If anything sounded interesting it would have to be read out in full.  Once he was through, we got the chance to read what we liked.  The only thing that really interested me was sports.  Sure, I was intrigued, I remember about the Arab-Israel conflict and I remember reading about ‘Munich’.  There were other things too, but nothing like sports.  Anyway, this is how mornings went.  Slow.  Not drudgery by any means, but not too exciting either.  Once that was done, it was the outdoors with a break for lunch until nightfall. 

Mondays were different.  I was conscious of Mondays.  Monday was Mihira Day.  I am not sure if my siblings were as conscious, but I remember watching out for the newspaper delivery man on Mondays.  I wanted the first read.  The first Monday of January was special.  Mihira came with a beautifully decorated school time table.  It was all about who remembered.  Some years, I won and in others my brother did. 

But Mihirawas more than all that.  It was about the fascinating cartoon story, Boo Baba Saha ThulsiMihira gave us Batakolaachchi. There was also the crossword puzzle.  Then there were the features.  I’ve never seen schools being featured as comprehensively.  I got to read about events and personalities.  Places and place names were dissected in wonderful ways. 

Someone described Mihira thus: apita kiyavana pissuwa purudu karapu paththare (the newspaper that got us started on this insanity that is reading).  Perfect description.  After encountering Mihira, few would not be fascinated about words, phrases and stories.  It was the beginning of a lifelong love affair, one might say. 

My friend Nilooka Dissanayake said that she used to wait for the newspaper man and used to hum to herself something like the following: ‘pera davase mawetha gena mihira hetath gena aa yuthu ve’ (the mihirathat came to me on an earlier day must come to me tomorrow as well).  Again, perfect.

Mihirawas a friend. A teacher too. A loku aiya.A memory cherished by so many across several generations that I am persuaded to believe that if there is a community of readers in this country, a collective that loves stories, a group that writes, they are ‘one’ because they all lived in a fascinating world made especially for them by a single newspaper.  Mihira.  If success in life is about recovering innocence and if innocence-recovery is about rediscovering childhood, then all we need to do is revisit our individual Mihira-days.  We are lucky.   

M.S.

Who brought the elephant into the room and who will remove it?

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Elephants are majestic creatures.  They are also beasts of burden.  They give stature to pageants.  Those who have tusks are especially valuable to the point that they are hunted, killed and divested of their prized ‘possessions’.   They also enhance status of owners.  Elephants are sought then for a variety of reasons.  There are therefore laws about acquisition.  Whether these are adequate is a moot point.  What is clear is that enforcement is a joke.  What’s worse is that there are sinister forces which deliberately and systematically subvert enforcement. 

We are talking here about the case of the illegal capture of elephants.  This is an issue that has been in the news for quite some time.  It is not just a matter of one status-seeking ruffian ferreting away a baby elephant, coming up with all kinds of excuses when found out and then working the system with whatever oil works to give slip to the law.  We are talking about an entire set of rogues working in concert.  We are talking of a system that is tailor made for theft.  We are talking also of a culture that encourages wrongdoing, trips those who would dare, by way of carrying out duties, subvert such machinations. 

The allegations are serious enough.  Environmentalists have complained that forged documents have been submitted to support applications to register calf-elephants.   An audit query carried out by the Auditor General’s Department has revealed that this allegation is correct and that the Fauna and Flora Protection Ordinance and the Public Property Act have been violated. A single permit (No 229) has been issued for two elephants (one male, one female).  Four other permits (Nos 331, 334, 358 and 359) have been issued by the Department of Wildlife Conservation although the stated information does not tally with the size of the animals.  In the case of Permit No 331, the elephant for which the permit was sought is a male although the application indicates it is a female.  Permits 226 and 338 contain forged signatures of former DWLC Director General, Chandrawansha Pathiraja. 

The hanky-panky with respect to registration has been well documented.  Officials are yet to respond adequately to allegations. It would have been disturbing enough if relevant authorities had taken refuge in the ostrich option.  What we see, however, is active collusion by authorities.  In one case, for example, a magistrate is implicated over improper registration.  The owner of the Hambantota Bird Park Ajith Gallage as well as the now suspended Wildlife Officer and Flying Squad chief (no less!) have been identified among those involved in forging documents to obtain licenses for elephants captured illegally from the wild.

What is most disturbing about the current situation is the sudden and inexplicable transfer of a key official involved in the investigation.  Deputy Auditor General A. H. M. L. Ambanwela, previously in charge of the DWLC, Forest Department and Central Environment Authority (CEA) sections was transferred to the Labour and Sport section.  Ambanwela, coincidentally was the person who compiled the audit query.  His transfer is nothing less, at least in appearance, than throwing a spanner in the wheels of a process that would clearly have embarrassed a lot of important people.  The Auditor General has not covered himself in glory here.  Indeed it appears that either he himself is implicated or he does not have the integrity to defend the honor of the institution he heads in the face of political pressure.

This is not the first time that Ambanwela has been in the news.  When he was working on an audit of procurement in the Central Province he was subjected to an acid attack.  He is a man who has suffered and has borne his suffering without a flinch, clearly a man of integrity who takes his job seriously.  His track record is unblemished.   His new post, not surprisingly, carries little responsibility. A officer of his caliber and experience, one would imagine, would have been ideal to oversee areas such as the  ETF, an entity that had been rocked by scandal after scandal. 

The problem here is that Lalith Ambanwela being sidelined from the case is not a random, one-off affair. It is one of what has come to become routine whenever any official or politician comes under investigation.  Lalith Ambalwela had acid thrown on his face.  A key witness in the case involving a politician forcing a school teacher to get on her knees was found dead inside a well recently.  Police officers who crossed the path of politicians, big and small, have been transferred by the dozen. 

It is clear that rules and regulations, law and order, are not worth much in this country.  When a country reaches a point where honest officials with skill and a strong sense of integrity are deliberately sidelined or are subjected to threat, intimidation and attack, when a country comes to a point where the institutional apparatus does not function or is replaced by informal arrangements where political interference is what counts, it can be described as anarchic. 

Lalith Ambanwela is not the only official who takes his job seriously.  There are countless others in the public service.  He is not the only such official who has been given the short end of the stick.  That’s what is most bothersome.  When such people are attacked, a strong message is given to all.  Those who are faint of heart will fold up immediately.  Over time a culture is produced; a culture of complacency, of looking askance and of doing-as-told-and-shutting-up.  In such a situation people like Ambanwela are quickly dismissed as mavericks and offloaded.  Or worse, one must add, considering what he has already had to suffer. 

What does all this tell us of the overall picture?  The Government is clearly not clueless or spineless.  In fact it is showing remarkable clarity and spunk.  It is in in-your-face mode.  It is doing the dirty and asking ‘so what?’  In short the entire institutional apparatus has collapsed.  Fresh paint on façade cannot fool everyone.  The ‘dirty’ of the inside is, after all, seen by all and all the time too, whether it is in a police station, in a crime scene or a traffic accident involving VIPs. 

There are two things one might do well to remember.  If the boss is up to no good, it  amounts to a license for everyone under him or her to likewise indulge in wrongdoing.  Secondly, if anyone in any institution is up to mischief, the chances are that those above are either up to mischief themselves or else incompetent and/or powerless to put a stop to it.  There’s a huge elephant in the room.  It is a wild elephant.  It is not the kind of creature that is the kathaanaayaka or protagonist of this story.  It has a name. Corruption.  It has been brought in by the powerful.  It is on a rampage. 



  


Washington 'logic' and other tidbits

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Washington ‘logic’
The USA invaded Iraq on a pretext.  The USA messed up that country and then ‘left’.  Now the USA is back.  The USA has returned because of the ISIS, we are told.  ‘Targeted strikes,’ Washington says.  We know that when the USA says ‘Targets’ it includes innocent civilians, children, elderly people and so on.  Let’s leave all that aside.  ‘No quick fixes in Iraq,’ Obama says.  Let’s read that as follows: ‘We are not going to pull out any time soon’.  But here’s what it is all about.  The USA is bombing Iraq to fix stuff that needs fixing BECAUSE the USA bombed Iraq in the first place!


How the ‘left’ has fallen!
Time was when this country had the strongest Trotskyite movement in the whole world. Back then it was ‘workers of the world unite -- you have nothing to lose but your chains’.  Things have changed.  The ‘left’ ministers (so-called) have been politically reduced to ‘exploring the formation of a common front against the Bodu Bala Sena and its General Secretary’.  Aney Pau, did someone say?





Pet laws for whom?
There are going to be laws pertaining to pets kept in homes and also those in pet shops.  Interesting.  We think that the laws should apply to all pets, in and out of households and pet shops.  For example it is customary for the powerful to keep pets.  Officials make good pets, this is well known.  The powerful (and this includes not just politicians but top corporate entities as well) are known to keep journalists and other media personnel as pets.  Then we have various foreign governments that hurathalfy NGO personalities, trade union leaders, human rights activists and academics.  Some judges make good pets too, we have seen. Police officers and even police spokespersons are good pets.  They have to be treated right of course.  The question is, will the new laws cover all these people?  Will it be a requirement for the ‘owners’ to vaccinate all of them?


All beggars are crooks.  Hmmm…!
All beggars are crooks according to Maithripala Sirisena. Fine.  So who are the biggest beggars in this country?  There was a time when Ronnie De Mel, then Finance Minister, was regularly lampooned with the begging bowl.  That’s what all Finance Ministers have had to do in a country where leaders have no clue about the political economy of underdevelopment.   How about politicians themselves?  Aren’t they the worst kind of beggars or rather crooked beggars?  They pretend they have nothing.  They beg for votes.  They make a good collection and then they spit on the voters!


Additional Ministries
The existence of two ministries- the Ministry of Transport and the Ministry of Private Transport Services –was unnecessary, President, Private Bus Owners Association (LPBOA) Gemunu Wijerathne said.   He is dead wrong.  There has to be a ministry for every MP.  And if there aren’t enough subjects to pass around some would have to have more than one minister.  That’s why they contest.  Even member of the opposition must be given a ministry each.  Each minister must be paid well and all perks currently enjoyed by ministers must be quickly doubled.  That will keep them happy.  That’s very important.  What’s more important is to make sure that none of them work.  When idiots ‘work’, they make things worse.  Their JD should read ‘Twiddle your thumbs; if you do any work you will be stripped of your portfolio’. 




‘Don’t frame me!’ pleads a US soldier

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Folks, I know that in the end I am dispensable.  I know this because I knew that I was dispensable at the very beginning too.  The rich don’t fight. The poor do.  They must.  The children of those who make the big bucks from selling weapons (of mass destruction and otherwise) don’t fight.  Not in the trenches anyway.  One or two exception, sure, but by and large it’s the poor folks kids who get to kill and get killed.  Dispensable.  Remember the word.

Call me soldier. Call me US soldier.  You can call me any name you like. Robert Bales if you wish.  It does not matter.  What matters is that Amnesty International has said that the military of my country is guilty of systematically covering up or disregarding abundant and compelling evidence of war crimes, torture and unlawful killings in Afghanistan.  Forget the cover-up and disregarding of evidence.  I know.  That’s my job – not the ‘knowing’ of it but the ‘doing’.  Not news to me and since I have a JD it’s not news to those who came up with the JD.  It’s what we are required to do.

I know that Amnesty International can throw all the evidence gathered but nothing will come out of it to those who sent us to Afghanistan, those who ordered us to do what we did and those who ‘covered up’.  My country owns the United Nations, alright?  Nothing will happen to the USA. No sanctions will be imposed. No UN investigation.  Indeed, the matter won’t get even a half decent run in the mainstream media.  Bucks and guns add up to a lot of insurance.  The people referred to above are covered.  Barack Obama said ‘We’ve tortured some folks’.  That’s confession.  He said it about the Bush years, but he knows, I know and the whole world knows that other folks were tortured and summarily executed post 2008.  That confession didn’t make waves.  Didn’t make a ripple even.   Bases covered.  

Whenever there’s a slip and we get caught, you can rest assured that Washington will pin it down not on policy, strategy or guidebook for the men and women in fatigues but on me going berserk.  Hillary said famously not too long ago, ‘this is not who we are!’ whereas she damn well knows that THIS IS WHO WE ARE.  ‘We’ meaning of course the USA, its foreign policy, its military operations, its command structure, my JD and poor ‘ol me carrying out orders.  That’s all WHO WE ARE.  But that line is important.  It absolves everyone.  Except me. 

Like I said, I am not worried about my country. I am worried about myself.  No, I am not worried about being hauled up, queried, found guilty etc.  I am worried about my reputation.  If you, as suggested, called me Robert Bales, you would be ‘in the know’.

The guy did what was expected of him.  That was what he was and that was what the USA is.  No contradiction there.  Someone wrote about him thus:

You went postal in Kandahar
and that’s not new, we know
for what’s a dozen-or-so
after Hiroshima and Nagasaki
and the sanity-driven blood-rush
that turned cities into rubble
territories into cemeteries
governments into puppets?

My problem is that they’ll say about me.  They’ll say, like they said of Bales, that I was traumatized, ‘apparently deranged’ or worse, call me a ‘rogue soldier’ who ‘went on rampage’ and committed ‘an act of madness’.  I am none of those things and did nothing of the kind.  If I am traumatized, deranged or am a rogue then so is Barack.  I was and am perfectly sane, sober, in complete control of my faculties and am certainly not a rogue.  Honest through and through.  I am Clinton (and now Kerry), toe for toe, leg for leg, heart for heart; I am Barack , every senator and every congressman; I am US Foreign Policy and Military Strategy, agent and plan, executer and execution, through and through.

I just don’t want to be singled out.  I am ‘part and parcel’.  I am a soldier of US Army.  I don’t want to be named and shamed.  I don’t want to be framed. 


*All this in a parallel universe, let's not forget. 

මිහිරිම කාලය හා “මිහිර“ මතකයන්!

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'මිහිර'මංගල කලාපයේ මුල් පිටුව 
අවුරුදු කීපෙකට කලින් යමෙක් මට යෝජනාවක් ගෙන එන ලදි. “ලියන්නකෝ ඔයාගේ ප්‍රථම ප්‍රේමය ගැන“. අපොයි ඒක මහ අමාරු වැඩක්. ඒක ආදරය ගැනවත් ආදරවන්තයින් ගැනවත් ලියන්න තියෙන අපහසුවක් නොවෙයි. මුල්ම කොටස කොතනින් පටන් ගන්නවද කියන එකයි විසදගන්න අමාරු. අවසාන ආදරයත් ප්‍රථම ආදරය ම වෙනවා කියලයි මට හිතාගෙන උන්නේ. ඒත් ඒ යෝජනාව මං පිළිගත්තා. ඒක නිසා මම මගේ මුල්ම මොන්ටිසෝරි ගුරුතුමිය ගැන ලිව්වා.

ඒත් හැමතැනම ආදරය තිබුනා. මිනිසුන් හා දේවල් කෙරෙහි. අපි ආදරය කියන වචනය හරි සැහැල්ලුවෙන් ගත්තේ, ඉතිං අපි විවිධ දේවල්, මිනිස්සු, විවිධ ස්ථාන, දේවල් කෙරෙහි ආදරයෙන් බැදුනා. ඒත් මේ හැම දෙයක් අතරින්, එකම එක සම්බන්ධයක් තිබුනා හොදට හිතන්න පුරුදු කළ, හැගීම් දැනවූ හා ජීවිතයේ මුල්ම කාලයේදී නොයෙක් දේ සොයා යන්න ඉඩ සැලැස්වූ. ඒ සම්බන්ධය තමා මිහිර පත්තරේ.

මිහිර වචනයේ පරිසමාප්ත අර්ථයෙන්ම අති මිහිරක්. එය ළමුන් සදහා වූ සතිපතා පුවත්පතක්. මිහිර තම රිදී ජුබිලිය සැමරුවේ ගිය සතියෙදීයි. අපි (මම සහ මිහිර) ඒ කාලේ එකම වසසේ වගේ. ඒත් එතනදීත් වෙනසක් තිබුනා. මම වැඩුනේ මිහිිර සමඟයි. ඒත් මිහිර තම ළමා කාලයේම හිිටියා. මම ළමා කාලය හා ළමයා පළවා හැරියත් මිහිර යස අගේට ළමයෙක් වගේම හිටියා. ළමයෙකු නොවැඩීම පිළිබද තේරුම් ගන්න මට දශක ගණනක් වැය උනත්, ළමයෙක් වර්ධනය නොවීම ඇත්තටම ලොකු ප්‍රශ්නයක්. ඒත් මිහිරට ඒ ප්‍රශ්නය කවදාවත් බලපෑවේ නැහැ. මිහිරට ළමයෙක් වෙලා ඉන්නමයි ඉඩ ඇරල තිබුනේ. මිහිර වර්ධනය වෙන්න ලොකු වෙන්න කිසිම අවශ්‍යතාවක් තිබුනේ නැහැ. හා.. “දැං ටිකක් ලොකු වෙනවා“ එහෙම නැත්නං “ටිකක් ලොකු වෙලා ලොකු මිනිහෙක් (කෙල්ලෙක්) වෙයන්“ කියල කව්රුවත් කීවේ නැහැ.

මිහිර කවදාවත් හොදම යාළුවෙක් අඩු ගානේ යාළුවෙක් කියලවත් දැක්කේ නැහැ. ඒත් අඹ යහලුවන් පැමිණ යද්දී මිහිර සිටියා. එකදු වචනක්වත් නොකියා හුගක් දේ කියන්න පුළුවන් උනා. මිහිර මට ඉගැන්නුවා. මම කවාදාවත් හිගින් නැති ලස්සන තැන් පෙන්නුවා. එක එක මිනිසුන් මට මුණ ගැස්සුවා. වඩාත්ම වැදගත් දේ කිසිම වැඩිහිටියෙකුට බැරි උන විදියට මිහිර මාව විනෝදයට පත් කලා.

පනහ සැමරු මිහිර

'මිහිර' 50 වන  සංවත්සර කලාපයේ මුල් පිටුව 
මේ හැම දෙයක්ම සිද්ධ උනේ හැත්තෑව දශකයේ මුල් බාගයේදීයි. මට එතකොට හයක් හරි හතක් හරි වෙන්ටැති වයස. මේ වගේ පුවත්පතක වයස හරියටම කියන එක නං අමරුයි. සමහර වෙලාවට මිහිරට අවුරුදු පහක් විතර වෙන්ටැති. සමහර වෙලාවට අවුරුදු 12 ක් 13 ක් විතර වෙන්ටැති. සමහර විට ඊට වැඩි වෙන්නත් ඇති. නිවාඩු කාලය මට මිහිර ලැබුන කාලයයි. නිවාඩු කාලය මා වැඩිපුරම ගත කලේ කුරුණෑගල පිහිටි අපේ අම්මාගේ මහ ගෙදර යාමෙනි.

අපේ සීයා “Daily News"සහ "Observer"පත්තර ගෙදරට ගේනවා. එයා හුගක් වයසයි ඒක නිසා ඇස් පෙනීමත් ගොඩාක් දුර්වලයි. පත්තර වල හෙඩ්ලයින් කියවන්න ඒක නිසා අපි කව්රු හරු මුණුබුරෙක් තමා එයා අඩගහගන්නේ. ඒ මොකක් හරි හෙඩ්ලයින් එකක් සීයගේ සිත් ගත්තොත් අනේ ඉතිං මුළු ආටිකල් එකම ඉවර වෙනකං කියවන්න වෙනවා. සීයා කොහාට හරි වෙච්චි ගමන් ඔන්න අපි කැමති දෙයක් කියවන්න් අපිට අවස්ථාව ලැබනවා. මම නං කැමති උනේ “ක්‍රීඩා“ කොටසට විතරයි. ඇත්තටම ක්‍රිඩා වලට මම පිස්සු වැටිලයි හිටියේ. ආරබි - ඊශ්‍රායල අර්බුදය, “මියුනිච්“ සිද්ධිය ගැන මට මතකයි මම කියෙව්වා. තවත් කොච්චර දේවල් තිබුනත් “ක්‍රීඩා“ තමා මට අල්ලල ගියේ. ඉතිං කෝම හරි අපේ උදේ කාලය ඔහොමයි අහවර උනේ. හරි හෙමින්.  වැඩක් තිබුනෙත් නෑ නැත්තෙමත් නෑ ඒ කාලෙදි අපිට. ඒක ඉවර උනාම ඉතිං අපිට තියෙන්නේ දවල්ට කෑම කාලා කළුවර වැටෙනකම්ම එළියට වෙලා සෙල්ලං කරන්න තමා.

හැබැයි සදුදා නං වෙනස්. මම සදුදට හරි්‍ම කලබලෙන් තමා ඉන්නේ. මිහිර පත්තරේ එන්නේ සදුදට. මට තරං ගායක් මගේ අනිත් සහෝදරයට තිබුනද කියල නං මම දන්නෑ. හැබැයි සදුදට පත්තර මාමා එනකං ඇගිලි ගැන ගැන හිටපු හැටි මට හොදට මතකයි. මට තමයි පත්තරේ අලේ කරන්න ඕන උනේ. ජනවාරි මාසේ පළවෙනි සදුදා කියන්නේ ආසාවෙන්ම බලා ඉන්න දවස. ලස්සනට වෛවර්ණ පාට පින්තුර තියෙන පාසැල් කාල සටහනක් අපිට පත්තරෙත් එක්ක ලැබෙනවා. හැමෝටම ඒක තමා ඕන උනේ. සමහර අවුරුදු වල මම දිනුවට අනිත් අවුරුදු වල ඉතිං මගේ සහෝදරයා තමා තරගෙන් දින්නේ.

ඒත් මිහිර සුවිශේෂයි. බූ බබා සහ තුල්සි කියල හරි ලස්සන කාටුන් කතාවක් තිබුනා. ඇයි බටකොල ආච්චි.. ඒකත් මිහිර පත්තරේ ගියා. තව ප්‍රෙහ්ලිකා එහෙමත් තිබුනා. තව තව විශේෂාංග තිබුනා. මම කවදාවත් ඔය විශේෂාංග වලදී ස්කෝල ගැන මහ ලොකුවට කතා කරන ඒවා දැකල නැහැ. ඒ වෙනුවට අපිට එක එක උත්සව, වැදගත් පුද්ගලයන් ගැන කියවන්නයි ලැබුනේ. අපි ආස කරන විවිධ ස්ථාන සහ ඒවයේ නම් හරි අපුරු විදියට තමා සකස් කරල තිබුනේ.

සමහරු මිහිර ගැන කිව්වේ “අපිට කියවන පිස්සුව පුරුදු කරපු පත්තරේ“ කියලයි. ඒක හරියටම හරි. මිහිර මුණ ගැහුනම ඒකේ  තියෙන වචන ගැන, වාක්‍ය සහ කතන්දර ලැව ටික දෙනෙක් ආසා වෙන්ටැති. ඒත් තව කාට හරි කියන්න පුළුවන් මිහිර තමා ජීවිත කාලයක්ම පවතින ආදර සම්බන්ධයක ඇරඹුම කියලා.

මගේ මිත්‍ර නිලුකා දිසානායක කියන්නේ, එයා පත්තර මාමා මිහිර පත්තරේ අරන් එනකං “පෙර දවසේ මවෙත ගෙනා මිහිර හෙටත් ගෙන ආ යුතුවේ“ කියල මුමුණ මුමුණ ඉන්න පුරුදු වෙලා හිටියා කියලයි. ඒක නං නියමයි.

මිිහිර යාළුවෙක්. මට ගුරුවරයෙක්. මට අයියා කෙනෙක්. දශක කීපයක් පුරා මගේ මතකය ගලාගෙන යද්දි මට හිතනෙවා, මං විශ්වාස කරනවා රට පුරාම කියවන්නෝ බිහිවනේන, කතා වලට ආදර කරන අය බිහි වෙන්න, එහෙම නැත්නං ලියන්න, පරම්පරා ගානක්ම ශක්තිය. ධෛර්යය් ඒ අයට දුන්නේ එකම එක අයෙක් කියලයි. ඒ තමා මිහිර පත්තරේ. ජීවිතය සාර්ථක වෙන්න ළමා කාලය වැදගත් නං එහෙම නැත්නං ආයෙත් ළමා කාලය මොන වගේද කියල බලන්න ඕන නං අපිට කරන්න තියෙන එකම එක දෙයයි. ඒ අපේ මිහිර දවස් මතකයට නගා ගැනීමයි. අපි හරිම වාසනාවන්නයි නේද?



පරිවර්තනය: දේශකයා 

Angelo Mathews read Mahela like no one did

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Mahela retired.  Had to happen someday.  He’s been around long enough.  He’s done the hard yards.  He has the stats to show for it.  He has the moments.  The accolades.  And they will continue to come for a few days.  Then there will be the ‘distraction’ of the ODI series and the forget-all-else biggies, the World Cup.  He will duly reflect on his future in ODIs.  Then he will retire from that format as well.  And we’ll see another splash of stats, detailing of career highlights, accolades and the man himself looking back and offering some sober thoughts in his matter-of-fact way.  No frills.  A lot of humility.  Salaams to contemporary greats.  Philosophy. 

It will all add up to a grace that does justice to the way he has carried himself on and off the field over his fairly lengthy international career. 

This, however, is not about Mahela Jayawardena. Well, it is obviously framed by his retirement, but it is inspired by something that someone said about the man that no one else thought to touch on.  The man of this ‘writing-moment’ is not Mahela Jayawardena.  It is the current skipper Angelo Mathews.

When Angelo Mathews made his test debut against Pakistan in July 2009, Mahela Jayawardena was a 11-year veteran and one who had already had a stint as Sri Lanka’s test captain.  So it was natural that Angelo said ‘Mahela has been a pillar of strength, an older brother for me.’  Angelo was earmarked for captaincy.  He has played under Mahela, Kumar Sangakkara and Tillekaratne Dilshan. The first two had relatively long tenures at the helm and Angelo must have picked up a lot of tips.  There would have been some mentoring too on the part of Mahela and Kumar.  Angelo acknowledged. As he should.

He added, ‘He’s the smartest guy in the team, the go-to man always, and the effort that he makes with his knowledge and ability is wonderful.’  It has been observed by many that there were times (especially during Sri Lanka’s amazing run in the T-20 World Cup) when it was hard to figure out who was the real decision maker on the field.  It didn't matter whether it was Dinesh Chandimal or Lasith Malinga that strode out for the toss.  It hasn't been too different in Tests and ODIs either. It was less a matter of Angelo picking Mahela’s brains that Mahela dishing out voluntarily the most potent of brain-parts.  Angelo never showed annoyance.  More importantly he did not feel diminished but in fact showed maturity beyond his years to take it all and still not look as though he was a pedestrian in the affairs of the team.

The accolades, however, are run of the mill.  Expected.  Acknowledged with grace by all of course, but nevertheless not newsworthy outside of the need to jot down what the skipper had to say about a departing teammate and an icon of the game. 

Here’s where Angelo got in something everyone missed.  He said, ‘Thank you to his parents for bringing him up the way they have.’  That’s not about cricket. That’s about Mahela the human being.  Mahela the son.  Mahela the decent citizen. 

Mahela, in his farewell speech, thanks one and all. He did not forget his parents.  ‘They were there for me from day one,’ he said.  Goes for all parents.  Expected words from a son. Some of course don’t credit too many people and some forget parents and teachers believing that did it all ‘their way’ and even ‘on their own’.  Mahela’s acknowledgment is appreciated.  Angelo’s is special.  He was not talking of his own parents.  He was thoughtful enough to appreciate the significance of Mahela’s parents in his life, his career and his success. 

If you googled for Mahela’s parents, you might not find a picture.  Google ‘Mahela’s family’ and you get his wife and child.  There’s just one picture that came up in my search.  It was taken at an event welcoming the team after making it to the World Cup final in 2007: one among several pictures of the players and their families.  Mahela with his wife and his parents.  ‘Tired but happy to be home: Captain Mahela with his wife and parents’ the caption reads.


Angelo Mathews is not a silver tongued Sangakkara. Assertive as he is, Angelo does not have as authoritative a presence in the field as did Mahela. He is nevertheless a thinking captain.  That’s obvious.  He thinks deep about a lot of things.  That is not so obvious. Now we know.  

The miracle of cricket

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No Arjuna, Aravinda, Sanath, Murali or Vaas. No problem. 
It has been an incredible run.  The word can be used considering how quickly Sri Lanka became a force to reckon with after achieving test status.  The word ‘incredible’ is apt for many other reasons.  Just check the records chalked up by Sri Lanka and Sri Lankans over the past few years.  

Sri Lanka is not one of the so-called ‘Big Three’, but there’s only so much bigness and clout that can be purchased in the cricketing market.  Sri Lanka creamed England in Tests recently and England creamed India a month later.  Sri Lanka is not the No 1 test-playing nation though, but it’s been No 1 in ODIs and in T-20 versions.  There are other feats.  Highest totals in tests, ODIs and T-20s.  There’s Murali’s 800 wickets.  Partnership records.  Second-only-to-the-Don records set by Kumar Sangakkara. 

More than all this, there’s heart.  Few would deny that Sri Lanka has as much heart as mind, technique and cricketing sense.  That’s something. 

What is miraculous, however, has nothing to do with bat, ball, what happens in the middle, ‘Spirit of Cricket’ speeches, records, match-winning or match-saving performances etc. It is about all this happening in a sport which has been administered by egotists, crooks and morons, sometimes all rolled together. 

Sure, there have been exceptional individuals at the helm of Sri Lanka Cricket and the Cricket Board.  Their commitment, ability and vision went a long way in setting up a strong foundation. Indeed if the players and teams have not been tripped too much it has a lot to do with intelligent and giving individuals putting certain things in place. 

Times have changed though.  

Financial mismanagement, scandals and non-payment of salaries are so common that a smoothly functioning cricket establishment has become a utopian concept.  If we were just saying ‘the sport’s administrative body is a mess’ it would not be worrisome.  What is disturbing is that we have reached a point where people are openly saying ‘it will always be a mess’. 

What is sad is that when the President of Sri Lanka Cricket and his Secretary have a spat and it comes out in the open, few are bothered.  Scandal and Cricket go together, the general public has come to understand and even expect.  Catty comments, contradictions, retractions, denials, accusations and counter-accusations are ‘par for the course’ as far as Cricket Sri Lanka goes.  Indeed, considering the corruption and mismanagement are frequently tagged to that body, such things seem quite mild.

No one will say that cricketers are saints.  No one will say that ‘the 11 men out there’ and only ‘the 11 men out there’ have brought glory to the country.  There is a thing called ‘supporting cast’.  There are nuts and bolts that have to be put in place by ‘officials’, elected ones and employees.  Should not be downplayed.  But then again, considering the interminable hiccups that plague this particular sporting body, it is incredible that Sri Lanka manages to actually field 11 individuals in all international encounters.  It is a miracle, then, that they’ve done what they’ve done on an impressively regular basis.

While we can step back in awe at this miracle, it must be understood that there’s only so much miracle-fuel that heart and skill can conjure.  That fuel will run out someday.  There is reason, after all, why the word ‘patch’ goes with ‘purple’ when one refers to an incredible run by an individual or a team.  ‘Patches’ by definition speak of highs preceded and followed by lows. 

It was a tough ask for Sri Lanka to beat the rain and reach a target back in Galle, but that’s still kids’ stuff compared to asking someone, anyone, to set Sri Lanka Cricket right.  It has to be done, though.  Those in the know would probably say ‘too far gone’.  Well that would amount to making a case for sweeping the garbage out, cleaning house and setting things back in place from scratch.  If that’s what has to happen, then there’s no way around it. 


We shall of course savor the miracle(s) produced by Angelo Matthews and his men.  The future asks for more. A bigger miracle, perhaps, but one that has to be conjured if we are to get more Mahela-moments, Sanga-moments, Murali-moments, Matthews-moments, team-moments  and of course more Mahelas, Sangas, Muralis and Angelos.  

No words for the laughter and tears

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ROBIN WILLIAMS ( 1951-2014)

Some knew him as an actor.  Some as actor and as stand-up comic.  Some knew if on and off the set.  Looks like few knew him at all.  And yet Robin Williams is ‘family’ to millions.  This is why news of his death saw an outpouring of grief.  This is why news of suspected suicide was heartbreaking. 

He came to Sri Lanka as Mork.  That’s in ‘Mork and Mindy’.  He was crazy and it was ok to be crazy, he demonstrated.  Not many would have seen all his films, but few would not count at least one of them among personal favorites. 

He read a script, yes.  If you looked for ‘Robin Williams quotes’ you will get dozens of amazing lines.  All from movies.  Mostly written by others.  But you might also chance upon his great one-line responses and stuff from his comedy shows.  Take (in) the following, for example:

  • ‘You’re only given one little spark of madness. You mustn’t lose it.’ (On comedy)
  • ‘The only reason Mickey Mouse has four fingers is because he can’t pick up a check.’ (On his financial dispute with Disney over Aladdin)
  • ‘Never pick a fight with an ugly person, they’ve got nothing to lose.’
  • ‘Why do they call it rush hour when nothing moves?’
  • ‘Do you think God gets stone? I think so…Look at the platypus.’
  • ‘In England, if you commit a crime, the police don’t have a gun and you don’t have a gun. If you commit a crime, the police will say, “Stop, or I’ll say stop again!”’


Yes, I read these for the first time after I heard the news.  But yes, they are all ‘Robin Williams’ as I’ve imagined, going strictly by his screen performances and a couple of shows and interviews watched on Youtube.   It made me wonder, ‘typecast?’  Did he become a composite of the characters he played?  But what was common, then, about John Keating in ‘Dead Poets’ Society’, Dr Malcolm Sayer in ‘Awakenings’, Dr Sean Maguire in ‘Good Will Hunting’ and Daniel Hillard (and of course Mrs Euphegenia Doubtfire) in ‘Mrs Doubtfire’ and other characters in other films?  

They all rang true.  That’s at one level great screen performances.  It’s easy now to read more into those characters, the theatrical moments that stamped them with memorable identity, the quotable quotes, the expressions etc., and discover knowing and sorrow in his eyes.  In fact that’s even inevitable now.  But perhaps he was picked for ability to convey complexity and this only because he knew how to do it.  It looks as though all he’s done is move seamlessly between real and celluloid. 

He added, clearly, a lot more value than the scriptwriter would have imagined possible.  One can write, can direct too but when it comes to nuance of expression, the slightest twitch of a single facial muscle, angling of gaze, shift of tone and such there’s only so much you can tell an actor.  Robin Williams made characters memorable.  He wrote in irony and crafted in philosophy without effort and in such subtle ways that it just seeps into mind and memory without announcement of permission.  We look back and remember.  And even if we don’t, that etching persuades us to see and do in ways we may not have had we not encountered Robin Williams. 

It’s almost too easy now, after news of death and its circumstances, to talk of clowns and sorrow.  There were after all innumerable screen moment when Robin had to play ‘down’.  Poignancy, looking back now, was almost trademark. 

Flip through the memories penned by so many and you will recognize that Robin Williams created a community of believers; believers in humanity, nuttiness, it’s-ok-to-breakdown, mindless laughter and it’s-also-ok-to-cry.    

Russell Bran came up with a line few would not be able to identify with: ‘Robin Williams’ divine madness will no longer disrupt the sadness of the world’.  Norm Macdonald’s RIP-tweets, according to Chez Pazienza, adds up to the best tribute.  Norm describes an incredible and unforgettable first encounter and ends with the following two tweets:

‘When he left my dressing room, I felt alone. As alone as I ever remember feeling.’

And then this amazing two-word end-note which is so reminiscent of the man whose death is being mourned: ‘Until today.’

All things considered, no amount of words can do justice to the memory of Robin Williams; there are no words we can give by way of tribute to all the laughter.  And of course, all the tears.   When I tweeted this line, my brother Arjuna commented, ‘A lot of people smile when they have no more tears left to cry; we may never know what demons were running around the head of this man.’

True.

Then again, thanks to Robin Williams, those he touched are privileged to have found a pathway to identify their own demons. And angels. 

Go well, Robin Williams.  You’ve given more than most. 


The 'un-retiring class' and other tidbits

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'The 'un-retiring class'
Mahela Jayawardena retired from Test cricket.  He said his piece.  He talked of being privileged to play alongside great cricketers.  He showed class. And someone said 'class never retires'.  True.  There are classes and classes.  The working class may want to retire but can't. The privileged classes can retire but won't.  Men and women come and go, politicians and political parties have their days in the sun and days in the wilderness.  Through it all, class stays.  Put.  



The beauty of salons
There is a big scandal about beauty culture.  Apparently some unqualified and/or incompetent people are making big money selling 'beauty'.  They could be called 'beauty quacks' one supposes. And now the state is moving into regulating beauty-treatment facilities.  We need such facilities. Beauty is only skin deep, they say.  So if you get the skin right a lot of ugliness can be hidden. Works for people, works for cities too.  And if regulation can weed out quacks who claim they can undo ugliness, there should be regulations for people engaged in other kinds of beautification too.


What color is a refugee?
The court of appeal has put a halt to the deportation of Afghan, Pakistani and Iranian 'refugees' before their asylum claims are fully assessed.  There's a problem of definition here.  It seems that refugees are all brown people.  The truth is that refugees come in all colors.  We had lots of white refugees fleeing disease, religious and political persecution ending up in what's now called the USA.  We had 'undesirables' sent to 'colonies' -- convicts to Australia and bad eggs to South Asia and other parts of the world.  They all became quite respectable.  This has stopped.  But there are people who come to places like Sri Lanka who would never get noticed if they were back home.  Journalists, for example.  INGO personnel. UN workers.  They are all refugees, one might say.  No one is calling them that.  No one is asking them to leave.  They don't have to get stay orders from the courts.  White privilege?

What's wrong with Ranil?
The JVP has said that it will field a presidential candidate but only in the event that UNP leader Ranil Wickremesinghe decides to contest.  Strange decision for a self-proclaimed 'Marxist' party.  What's so special about Ranil, one might ask.  Is it that the JVP dreads a scenario where Ranil is President and would do its best to bring him down (by dividing the opposition vote, for example)?  Does the JVP think that a candidate fielded by the party would get more votes than Ranil (and even more than, say, Mahinda Rajapaksa)?  Is the JVP rooting for Sajith?  Is the JVP a pawn of the UPFA, in a convoluted kind of way?  Lots of questions for Comrade Anura to answer here, that much is evident.  

Kumar David's New Maths"I swear I am not a conspiracy theorist by inclination or habit, but this event to me was a probe, a first flying of the kite, an initial floating of a proposal to introduce Champika Ranawaka as presidential material. But for his chauvinist reputation – I don’t hold it against him that in 1970 or 1971 he belonged to a chauvinist student group that broke up our Vama Samasamajaya anti-JVP assembly in one of the campuses – he is more competent and credible than discredited Mahinda," says Kumar David who clearly doesn't know arithmetic (Champika would have been 5-6 in 1970/71), but then again when it comes to politics he consistently puts 2 and 2 together and ends up in the negative, even though one would expect more from an engineer and one with a doctorate!

Where were the 'boys'?
The TNA wants the UN to find out if human rights were violated by UNP and SLFP governments (or governments led by those parties) since 1974.  Now why is the TNA not asking the UN to check out the LTTE while they are at it?  Are Sampanthan, Sumanthiran and the leader-in-waiting Premachandran suffering from selective amnesia?  Is it that they are now slaves to pro-LTTE funders abroad just as they were slaves to Prabhakaran back in the day?

Mahela's retirement stumps SLC (for a while)

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‘Mahela has retired from Test Cricket,’ the President announced.   He might have expected a few seconds of silence as warranted by the gravity of the matter.  That’s not because Mahela’s exit might precipitate a downturn in Sri Lanka’s cricketing fortunes; it is a loss but hardly guarantees a string of defeats.  He might have expected silence on account of how great Mahela has been and his stature in cricketing circles especially in the dressing room and his on-field presence.  

‘Not news!’ the Secretary chipped in immediately drawing a sharp and irritated glace from the President.

‘He’s old, relatively speaking.  He still has his full array of strokes and he still reads the game as astutely as he always did.  Still, time takes a toll, I suppose,’ a lesser administrator opined. 

‘He probably felt that he has passed his peak.  The gracious thing to do when you believe you’ve outlived your usefulness is to step out,’ another administrative survivor with a philosophical bent observed. 

‘It’s all relative,’ someone quipped. ‘Theoretically if his average over the last 6-12 months or the last 10 tests puts him among the top 5-6 performers I think you could say he’s still useful.’
‘Interesting that you came up with the utility notion,’ the President said scratching his chin thoughtfully.

‘Yes,’ the relativist continued enthusiastically, ‘if Mahela thinks it is time to quit then a bunch of others should have retired a long time ago!’ 

‘But usefulness is just one factor when considering retirement,’ the Secretary said.  ‘Some people are in this for bucks.  If they keep rolling in, why quit?  You can’t have enough of a good thing.’

‘You should know!’ someone grunted under his breath, but he was heard by enough people in the room to provoke a bout of giggles.

‘Well, forget the money, some people retire because they want to spend more time with their families or because they’ve lost the passion for the game or because they are simply exhausted. Some even have breakdowns.  We know what happened to Trescothick,’ the Secretary clearly interested in a long innings batted on and on and on. 

‘Shall we ask ourselves some of these questions?’ the philosopher asked softly.

‘What questions?’ the President was confused.

‘Well, have we outlived our usefulness?  Have we lost the passion?  Are we reluctant to say “no” to a good thing?  Do we want to spend more time with our families?  Are there others who are worse and is this why we remain where we are in Sri Lanka Cricket?’

There was silence.  Awkward silence.

The Secretary broke it.

‘Mahela knows best what’s good for him.  We know best what’s good for us.  That’s all we know and all we need to know.’

Smiles all around.  Even from the philosopher and the relativist.

‘All’s well that ends well, eh?’ the President got the last word.    


*All this in a parallel universe...

Would you like to be the rain?

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Nanda Malini’s ‘Pawana’ was dated.  For the most part.  It was a period-relevant album.  It swept across the smouldering hearts of some sections of the Sri Lankan youth in the late eighties.  That album was a rough cut and deliberately so.  It was irresponsible in a way because Nanda Malini and her lyricists ought to have known better the kinds of heart and minds that would embrace the songs and in what way. 

There is a reason why the songs in ‘Shravanaaradhana’, ‘Yathra’ and ‘Sathyaye Geethaya’ are remembered and those in ‘Pawana’ are not.  The other day quite by chance I ‘caught’ one song from the album while I was flipping radio stations.  ‘Vahinnata hekinam’ (If I could rain..).  I thought back on ‘Pawana’ and found that there was only one other song that I remembered: ‘Sanda Eliya Gangak Wee’ (Moonlight like a river..).  I felt these two songs compensated adequately for the rest of the collection. 

‘Pawana’ was a call to action.  It was not a lyrical appeal but an unadulterated command with a threat, ‘if you are not with me, you are with them; if you don’t act, you are complicit’.  It was not spelled out in those terms, but that’s how it was read by its principal interpreters and those who popularized the album.  ‘Vahinnata hekinam’ was different though.

I thought and thought about ‘revolutionary’ songs, the literature that brings people to politics and about the literature that politics direct them towards.  I am sure everyone has his/her favourite ‘Radical Song’, that radicalizing score and verse which invariably bring smile and even tear upon recollection whilst spending the cynical years.  I am not sure what came first, literature or politics, but they sure did and do feel one another.  I remembered Gunadasa Kapuge’s ‘Sabanda api kandu novemu’ (Friend, let us not be like mountains).   

Both these songs were not about the how of political action. They were about why.  They championed a way of being, spoke of choice and recommended in an unobtrusive manner.  It was so gentle that the message just seeped through skin and was deposited in the tender marrow of sensibility, not for a day or year, not for that shining hour of sacrifice, glory and poetic commemoration, but for the day-in-day-out of lifetime and beyond. 

Why be like mountains trying to outreach each other, when we can be like a family of clear springs flowing into one large river, Kapuge asks.  Why be like a nightmare that disturbs a child’s sleep when you can be a song that awakens a nation from a deep slumber, he asks again.  Let us not be like the insane flame that sets fire to the thicket, but be like the soft rain that falls upon and douses such fires, he recommends.

Nanda Malini’s ‘Wahinnata hekinam’ echoes the same sentiments: ‘If only I could rain from above drought-scorched terrain, if only I could cook like a pot of rice in a hut where rice is not getting cooked!’

Looking back, it is clear we had a choice and we as a generation and a society of challengers and defenders, and all those who were caught in the clash of weaponry because they were born in the wrong decade or found themselves at the wrong place suffered to the tune of 60,000 deaths.  That was not a time of soft rain falling, but one of rain forest youth being cut down and burnt; not a time of rice-cooking but frying alive of hope and dream. 

Through it all, I cannot help feeling, that a cart was put before a horse; that literature was approached through politics and therefore only its ‘purely political’ message was extracted and its larger call for recognition and exploration of humanity was missed or ignored or both. 

I remember a medical student from Peradeniya.  He was not inclined to engage in politics. He played chess. He was a voracious consumer of literature, English, Sinhala and translations of books published in the Soviet Union. He loved all kinds of music.  He cultivated a taste for classical music.  He was caught in the fires of the late eighties.  The political visited his heart and left him without a choice.  He became an activist and an organizer. He was in charge of a sector. Not a single person under him was arrested because he assigned only such tasks that fell within that person’s capacities and political readiness.  As a result he had to take greater risks.  He was arrested. Beaten. Fortunately this happened before mis-directed ill-winds turned smouldering coals into raging fires.  He was released. He left Sri Lanka. He is not a well-established surgeon.  I think it all happened this way and not any other because he came to politics through art and not the other way about. 

He was, sadly, the exception.  The ‘rule’ was his polar opposite.  At some point, in the rush of blood and power, the intersection of righteous objection and political necessity, the dissolve of courage and conviction, the encounter of self with mirror, there must have been too many mismatches, an overdose of delusion and of course the reality of encountering forces beyond one’s strength to overcome or resist. 

These songs were powerful.  Tender.  I am not sure if we really caressed their substance.  Time passes. Those who were young grow old.  Some become cynical, some remain fresh.  We all realize that things change.  Slowly.  We cannot force those who come afterwards to learn from our errors.  We can only hope. 

I think every individual has to figure out what’s best for him/her and needs to locate him/herself in a larger collective and inquire into and understand the dimensions of that larger entity within him/herself.  I can speak for myself, that’s all.  Right now, I am thinking of literature. People. Collectives. Two songs play in my heart: ‘Sabanda api kandu novemu’ and ‘Wahinnata hekinam’.  I return again to something I wrote 6 years ago. 

I am convinced that the revolution begins with poetry and that it ends with the abandonment of love.  I say, therefore, ‘let there be rain, a soft drizzle; let it fall on barren, drought-ridden territories and let it be me.’

msenevira@gmail.com

Sajith Premadasa's move(s)

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The faith of South Asian people in dynastic rule is astounding considering all the braggadocio about democratic traditions.  There have been the odd ‘outsider’ of course but by and large the political stories of India, Pakistan, Sri Lanka, Bangladesh and as of late the Maldives have been about fathers, mothers, daughters, sons, brothers and sisters.  It’s not a two generation thing either, for there are grandparents and grandchildren as well. 

And it’s not just head of state we are talking about.  Dynastic aspiration is something prevalent across the board and at all levels.  We see it in local government bodies, provincial elections and even within political parties.  It can’t be the political fascination of the powerful or those who crave power.  Sure, they tend to have lots of money or draw from moneyed backers and this helps secure votes, but that’s exactly the point – unlike monarchies where there’s no-sweat succession, here you have to be voted in.  Well, it looks like the general public is not averse to dynasty. 

What this has produced, naturally, is for the progeny of politicians to operate as though they are endowed with some kind of ‘gene right’ to power.  The legitimacy or at least the logic of Sajith Premadasa’s political ambitions can perhaps be explained by the obvious ‘genetic edge’ and an electorate that is confused about monarchy and democracy.  What is important is for Sajith, the United National Party and the nation as a whole to check if the prince-in-waiting has king-credentials on non-genetic counts. 

He’s been in Parliament for 14 years. That’s long, after all Chandrika Kumaratunga became President with just a fraction of that ‘experience’.  He left the comfort zone of his father’s electorate and built a base far away in Hambantota.  He has decent crowd-puller credentials.  He is accepted either as the Best Bet or as the Next-Best-Thing of the party by the majority in the UNP.  Part of it is of course ‘default’ on account of real or perceived incompetency and authoritarian tendencies of the leader, Ranil Wickremesinghe.  Still, Sajith seems the best pick as of now even if gene-right and default-clause are discounted.  Is it enough, though?

Sajith’s political record has a less than attractive underside though.  He wanted to oust his leader.  He once said that the only person who can unite the party was Karu Jayasuriya.  When the party leader agreed to set up a leadership council, Sajith opposed the move.  Today, it is reported that he is willing to be No 2 to Wickremesinghe provided that the Leadership Council be abolished. He would support Wickremesinghe in a presidential campaign and this would certainly boost the UNP’s chances. However, all things considered, it won’t be enough to defeat Mahinda Rajapaksa.  

Sajith would want Ranil to be the candidate of a common opposition, contesting under the elephant symbol.  That’s a recipe for keeping out other sections of the opposition, effectively strengthening the incumbent.   It doesn’t take much to figure out that No 2 can make a bid to be No 1 should No 1 lose out on yet another presidential bid.  It would be a win-win situation.  One thing is clear in this history: inconsistency.  It makes him just another ordinary politician. 

There is another problem.  Sajith doesn’t seem to understand the meaning of gratitude. The man he wants to oust, Ranil Wickremesinghe, was one of the few who supporter his father Ranasinghe Premadasa during the dark days of the impeachment motion of 1991.  Karu Jayasuriya was similarly a staunch supporter of his father.   In politics there are no permanent friends or enemies, this is known.  Nevertheless Sajith’s machinations at various times against Wickremesinghe and Jayasuriya have been crude and motivated by greed. 

As of now, gene-right notwithstanding, Sajith Premadasa’s politics can be described as one of taking IOUs from the rich to dole out money to the poor.  If he ever comes to power there will be many waiting in line to cash these checks. 

There is nothing to say that he won’t change, become better and acquire some statesmanlike qualities of course.  Then again, he’s close to 50 now and no longer ‘young’.  Maturity ought to have made an appearance by now.  As of now, therefore, his moves can only be read as outcomes of other people’s plans, designed for their benefit and not necessarily Sajith’s or the UNP’s. 

Genes count in South Asia, yes.  Not all, though.  And not all the time.   Sajith Premadasa looks like one not destined to live up to genetic potential.  Unless of course he becomes consistent, obtains a better understanding of himself and learns that although gratitude might not add up to much, it can tip the scales in his favor.  Time will tell.




The party is over

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There are parties and there are coalitions.  We’ve seen both rise and fall, falter and prosper.  There are party candidates and there are common candidates. We’ve seen both types and both have tasted success and failure. 

Common fronts were not uncommon in the period before J R Jayewardene came up with the Second Republican Constitution in 1978 with proportional representation, executive presidency and a lot of other things that are part and parcel of what’s now called ‘the democracy deficit’ in the country.  The UNP itself was a coalition, as was the MEP that ousted it in 1956.  There were no-contest pacts. There were official ‘fronts’ too.  The UNP and SLFP of course remained key factors in electoral politics after the 1978 constitution ‘kicked-in’, electorally, but both parties have needed props be it a general or presidential election.  

The last ‘pure’ party candidate of any consequence was Ranasinghe Premadasa, but even he needed the convoluted support of the JVP in that the destabilization and vote-and-die threats mouthed by that party affected Premadasa less than it did his principal opponent.  He even had Ossie Abeygoonesekera ripping off a fair number of opposition votes – Ossie would join the UNP soon after the presidential election of 1988. 

Since then, be in parliamentary or presidential, winning elections have been about getting the coalition right.  In the case of parliamentary elections, the proportional representation system has made coalitions logical.  In presidential elections, given the obvious benefits enjoyed by an incumbent who contests, it is the opposition that has to think of candidate-suitability in terms of cobbling together a coalition.  Mahinda Rajapaksa, in 2005, didn’t have the open endorsement of his party leader.  He obtained the support of the nationalists and the left parties.  Wickremesinghe had minority parties on his side, as did Sarath Fonseka in 2010. 

We are in 2014 and this political moment is full of coalition talk.  The focus is on fielding ‘a common candidate’ against Mahinda Rajapaksa.  It is in this context that the validity of ‘party’ (as opposed to coalition) has to be examined.   More specifically, the suitability of particular candidates in particular coalitions, have to be assessed. 

There’s talk that the Bodu Bala Sena might field a candidate.  As of now it seems more rhetoric than anything else. As in the case of single (and small) political entities winning is not the issue – robbing votes is.  In the case of the BBS, one would say ‘insignificant’ at this point. Of greater interest are the moves by Ven Maduluwawe Sobitha Thera, the insistence on common program first rather than candidate name, whether or not the JVP would support a UNPer posing as ‘common candidate’ etc. 

In 2010 it was easy.  The incumbent was strong and losing face was the priority for both the UNP and JVP.  They played Sarath Fonseka for a sucker quite successfully. Today, many in the opposition believe that the right candidate is in with more than an outside chance.  Ranil Wickremesinghe cannot be faulted for believing that his time has come, finally.  The JVP, however, has stated that it would not back him.  If the opposition is really keen on winning then this is hardly the time to harden positions.  The focus on program is positive but announcing candidacy is unhealthy. 

Mahinda Rajapaksa was as common a candidate as one could get on the other side of the political equation.  He was a member of the SLFP but we haven’t heard that party’s name much in the past 20 years.  That coalition was about program and personality, but not about party name or symbol.  There’s a lesson to be learned there, obviously.  Fixations on either make for fissure and not unity.  Rajapaksa was fresh. So was Chandrika Kumaratunga.  Wickremesinghe has a handicap in that area. 

Thus, even though it makes sense for the common candidate to be from the UNP in the event that the opposition cannot come up with a credible name outside of ‘party circles’, others in the party have to be considered too while keeping in mind that the supporting cast can have reasonable reservations about name and symbol.   Fonseka’s failure showed up the immense disadvantages of a party-less person when taking on an incumbent who still has considerable mass appeal despite regime-fatigue, lawlessness, unpardonable wastage and perceptions of dynastic preoccupations. 

As things stand, the familiar bickering, reiteration of preferred position, too many people and groups pulling in too many directions do not produce a positive picture of the process.  It is not a knot that is easily untangled admittedly.   As pointed out, the wiser thing at this stage would be to focus on program.  Dropping fixations about party name and symbols would help.  Stating the non-negotiable has to come much later if at all. 




The long road to ‘Gold’ at the Chess Olympiad

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It’s a long way from Colombo to Tromso.  Indeed, a few years ago none who undertook the journey to the distant fishing ‘village’ in the northern part of Norway would have heard the name.  That is, not until FIDE, the world body governing chess announced that the 2014 Chess Olympiad would be held there.  The journey was long.  It was arduous too because a cash-strapped Chess Federation had to arrange a flight + train + bus journey.  There were no tickets by the time the visas came through.  In fact the manager got his visa so late that the team left without him.  He left the following day, but due to fortuitous scheduling of trains, arrived in Tromso just a few hours after the team did.

No one complained.   They took a flight to Stockholm, followed by a 22 hour train ride to Narvik, Norway and a 4 hour bus ride to Tromso.  They still managed to arrive a day before the tournament started without any loss of enthusiasm.  Sri Lanka fielded a solid team which included three national champions, G.C. Anuruddha (who was playing in his 6th Olympiad), Chamika Perera (National Champion 2011) and Isuru Alahakoon (National Champion 2012, 2013 and 2014), the last two playing in their second Olympiad.  It was Prasanna Kurukulasuriya’s first Olympiad but he has been consistently among the top 10 players in Sri Lanka for more than a decade now.  Rajeendra Kalugampitiya, currently the No 1 blitz and rapid player in Sri Lanka, first played in the Olympiad in 2006 when he was a schoolboy.  This was his second Olympiad.

There was also a women’s team, led by Anuththara Chandrasiri of Girls’ High School, Kandy.  They performed creditably, winning 5 and losing 6 of their matches.  This story, however, is about the men’s team, competing in the Open Section. 

The team had been put through a tough training program organized by the Federation which secured the services of a top coach from Greece, Efstratios Grivas.  He spent two weeks in Sri Lanka and the players agree that this was the best preparation they had seen in many years.  Grivas, a key member of FIDE’s training program, was at hand in Tromso to help the team.  He spent a vital 2 hours with them every morning, going through the games they had played and helping them prepare for the particular opponents in the afternoon.   Most importantly, he infused a sense of purpose and gave the players ample confidence especially when they took on opponents with higher ratings.  None of the players would ever be intimated by titles such as Grandmaster (GM) or International Master (IM). 

Sri Lanka was ranked 120th in a field of 172 teams.  The team didn’t have a single IM or GM.  They ended 74th.   That leap was enough to secure a Gold for the team according to the tournament format which offered ‘category prizes’ for the best performing teams in 5 different rating-related segments.  It was tough going all the way.  As the coach pointed out, there are no bad teams, everyone comes to play chess and you have to be totally focused in order to win. 

Sri Lanka’s low ranking assured a strong opponent in the first round.  Sweden, ranked 34th, had 4 GMs.  Sri Lanka lost 1-3, Alahakoon and Kalugampitiya drawing their respective games, the latter actually missing a relatively easy win.  Sri Lanka beat Honduras (125th) 3-1 in the next round but lost to 66thRanked Scotland in the 3rd round, 1-3. Scotland boasted of 2GMs.  Anuruddha drew with one of them while Alahakoon drew with FIDE Master Alan Tate.  The loss gave Sri Lanka a weaker opponent in the 4th round, Malawi (134th).  A 3-1 win saw Sri Lanka being paired with Venezuela (61st) in the 6th round. Venezuela, with 1 GM and 1 IM had a tough time.  Mistakes under pressure saw what ought to have been a  2.5-1.5 victory turn into a 1.5-2.5 defeat.  Anuruddha drew against an IM while Chamika defeated an FM. 

The pattern of loss followed by victory was wrecked when Sri Lanka defeated Afghanistan 4-0 and Jamaica 2.5-1.5 in the next two rounds.  It was at this point that Sri Lanka became a contender for the category prize.  The next two assignments, however, were tough.  Finland, ranked 56th with a GM and 2 IMs, defeated Sri Lanka 4-0 while Sri Lanka went down to 55th ranked Bangladesh 1-3.  In the latter match, had opportunities not been squandered, a draw or even a victory might have been possible. 

It all came down to the last round.  Sri Lanka was drawn to play New Zealand, a team with 3 IMs and ranked 44 spots higher.  Kurukulasuriya lost relatively quickly on Board 1, adding pressure to the other 3 players.  Anuruddha got into difficulties but fought as tenaciously as he had throughout the tournament to secure a draw.   He remained the only unbeaten player in the team and won an FM title for his efforts.  Chamika and Isuru battled hard to score memorable wins over considerably higher ranked players.  They held their nerve although down to a few seconds on the ‘clock’, unfazed even by the huge commotion caused by a Swiss player collapsing with a heart attack. 

That 2.5-1.5 win pushed Sri Lanka marginally higher than Lebanon on the tie break for the category prize.  There was jubilation, naturally, for Sri Lanka had not won a category prize in over 30 years.  The entire team put it down to better preparation courtesy the foresight of the Federation to secure Mr Grivas’ services.  The players themselves kept their motivational levels high despite setbacks, determined to do their best without being intimated by players stronger on paper. 

Anuruddha, in particular, brought all his experience into play.  Isuru Alahakoon, the team’s captain, gets the credit for both his excellent play and for convincing his teammates that the team should not be happy with consolation prizes of securing the odd draw with a GM or IM, instead they should aim to win the particular match.  Kurukulasuriya, handed the toughest assignment of playing on Board 1, played game after tough game without complaint.  Chamika Perera offered solidity on Boards 2 and 3, while Kalugampitya was gracious to acknowledge form loss.  This did not stop him from constantly backing his team and reveling in their victories.  It was, in this sense, an excellent team effort.  A well deserved Gold. 

[The writer accompanied the team as Manager cum Non-Playing Captain]



     

Lester: A figure of the nation's destiny

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Pic courtesy ft.lk
I haven’t watched many films with my father. Although he is an ardent consumer of all art forms, he rarely had the time to take us to the cinema, the theatre or for musical recitals. And yet, I distinctly remember how he made it a point to take us to see Sinhabahu and Maname, patiently guiding us along the story during the interval. I would have been around 10 years old at that time. I also remember how he took the family to see the films Rekava and Sandesaya. He was quite excited and as is his usual practice, gave us an introduction of sorts to the films, the kind of preamble that ambles along until it becomes virtually a history of Sinhala film.

That was the first time I heard of Lester James Peries. It took me at least a couple of decades more to understand more fully the worth of the man and I am still not sure if I really appreciate his contribution to our society as a writer, film-maker and a human being.

"I believe that the history of any national cinema is the history of the growth and development of its film makers — one is indistinguishable from the other". That observation was made long ago by Lester James Peries, writing about the American contribution to International Cinema. If that be the case, any historical account of Sinhala cinema would necessarily include several chapters on Lester himself, for today, given almost half a century of excellence in the field, Lester is probably one of the few people who cannot be written out of that script.

Lester was born on April 5th, 1919 in Dehiwala. "My mother frequently told me that I was actually born on the first, whenever I did something silly," said Lester, immediately demonstrating that he could laugh at himself, that rare quality which signifies the amount of territory won back from the enemy called arrogance. He had an older sister and two younger brothers, Ivan (an outstanding painter) and Noel (who became the Chief Engineer of Air Ceylon).

Their father, Doctor James Peries, had been mad on cricket and in fact had even played county cricket for Scotland. He was so hooked on the game that he had laid out a matting wicket in their garden. The children had therefore grown up in a strong cricketing culture to which Lester attributes his inability to "get out of the TV" when there is a cricket match being telecast.
Their mother, Winifred Grace Jayasuriya, had been quite dominating, and was the total opposite of her husband in terms of temperament. "She ran the house and she ran us, and thank God she did it!"

His father had been an Old Royalist, but his mother had insisted that they couldn’t afford to send their children to Royal and young Lester had ended up at St. Peter’s College, where he had come under the influence of Fr. Peter Pillai. Fr. Pillai had wanted Lester to become a priest. Lester had other ideas and had argued "Father, you need a vocation to become a priest". Fr. Pillai had retorted, "Nonsense! You decide to become a priest, much like you decide to become a doctor or an engineer. There is no heavenly character telling you what you should become!"

Having won all the prizes for writing at St. Peter’s, Lester was bent on becoming a writer. Just before sitting for his Matriculation exam, Lester had come under the influence of Lionel Wendt, who knew his brother Ivan, having bought one of his paintings. Lionel Wendt was putting out a fortnightly paper at that time called "Kesari".

"Lionel encouraged me to write for the Kesari. The paper carried good arts pages. Len Van Geyzel was the literary editor. He was a superb judge of writing. Wallace Stevens, the great American poet never published a poem without first showing it to Len. His standards were so high that they inhibited Len from writing.

"I was determined to become a writer, so I left college and refused to pursue my studies. For three years all I did was lock myself in my room and read, thinking I was teaching myself to write. I wrote for the Kesari and occasionally for the Times of Ceylon. I wrote the inevitable book of poems, "The Cathedral". I was greatly influenced by Dylan Thomas at that time. Lyn Ludowyk told me ‘You will improve with experience’ and when I asked him ‘In what way?’ he said ‘By living’. That book didn’t come out of genuine experience.

"My decision to become a writer came as a shock to my parents and they got Fr. Pillai to talk to me. He wanted to knock me out psychologically, obviously, for he asked ‘What makes you think you can write in English?’ He said, ‘eventually you will have to be a journalist. You will have to steal government documents. You are too timid to do that’."

Around that time Lester had got to do some freelance work for Radio Ceylon. He reviewed books for a programme called "Radio Bookshelf". "The first book I reviewed was ‘The Curtain of Green’ by Eudora Welty, which I had also reviewed for the Kesari. Then the war came and an English army man took charge of Radio Ceylon. He wanted to do radio plays and wanted me to write scripts."

Radio work had led Lester to form a theatre circle with Sali Parakrama, Sita Jayawardena, Vernon Abeysekera, Lorraine Forbes , Osmund Jayaratne, and Anandatissa de Alwis. We did several radio plays. I wrote a play called ‘A school for wives’ which was a flop. Most of the others went on to form The Drama Circle and took to the stage. I can’t remember if I was paid. Money was the last thing anyway. We did it out of love."

His brother Ivan had got a scholarship to study painting in London. His mother suggested that Lester go to London to see him. She had promised to give him an allowance for six months. He ended staying there for almost seven years.

"Looking back, I can say that those were the best years of my life. I was already writing on music, films and plays for the Times. The editor, Frank Moraes, asked me to contribute a piece once a week on the performing arts plus anything interesting in London. The Times had an office in Fleet Street. They had a staff of 18 people but only two in the editorial. John Hockin, who was at Lake House for a long time, had just been crimped by Times. Frank gave me a letter of introduction for I was asked to route the copy through the London office. Hockin would have read my copy, and he eventually hired me."

The career defining moment in Lester’s life had come when Hockin had asked him to interview Ralph Keene, a documentary film maker who was going to Ceylon to take charge of the Government Film Unit, as its Chief Producer. This was in 1952.

"At that time I had already made three amateur films with Hereward Jansz, a Sri Lankan born still photographer. We produced these experimental films with a 16mm movie camera which was purchased after trading in Hereward’s Speed Graphic camera. The first was called ‘Soliloquy’, which was about a painter. It won the Roger Manivell Award for best technical expertise at the Amateur Cine World Competition. This was followed by ‘Farewell to Childhood’ acclaimed as one of the 10 best films of the year."

At the end of the interview, Keene had asked Lester ‘aren’t you also making films?’ Apparently he had been one of the judges that had selected his film for the best technical expertise award. "He asked me what the hell I was doing in London when Ceylon is made for cinema! I told him that I didn’t want to join a government department. He said he had a free hand and promised that in a couple of years I would be doing my own documentaries."

"I couldn’t make up my mind to return. I was also married to an English girl at that time. My wife, Margaret, was the daughter of the owner of Sir Richard Steele, a pub near where we lived. My parents didn’t even know that I was married. Keene wrote to me every week, urging me to join him. He even promised me a salary at the highest point in the scale. All the money I earned from the paper went to make films. It was my wife who convinced me that it would be better to go back where I wouldn’t have to bear the cost of producing films, which is what I enjoyed doing anyway."

Coming back changed Lester’s life. "I would have been lost in London. Had I stayed back, I would have been running a tobacconist’s shop. I told my parents about Margaret. They were naturally shocked. She joined me after two months and although my family welcomed her warmly, it was not easy for her to adjust to life in this country. She went back after two years on the understanding that I would return to England in a couple of years. But I knew I had already come home and also around that time there were the first hints of a feature film".

The third "figure of destiny", as Lester likes to call the characters who influenced his life, following Wendt and Keene, was his cousin Christopher Peries. "Christopher wanted to create a company to make feature films. He said he had already spoken to people who would put in the money and promised to give me a free hand. I said I have to think about it, and he said he would give me a week to make up my mind."

"My colleagues, Willie Blake, who was an assistant cameraman and Titus Totawatte, who was an apprentice, encouraged me to take up the offer, saying they would leave with me. My boss at that time, P. Nadesan didn’t want me to leave. My parents were horrified because a government job was the pinnacle, and they couldn’t understand why I wanted to quit, especially since I was doing what I liked."

Just as he believes there are ‘figures of destiny’, Lester also believes that destiny does not have an agenda. Like most creative artists, perhaps he was driven by a certain spontaneity and had the instinct to seek spaces conducive to the full flowering of the creative urge.

"My feel was more for fiction, people, characters, human beings. So I jumped. The registered offices of Chitra Lanka Ltd., was 223 Bloemendhal Road, i.e. where the Island is now located. This is where I wrote the script for Rekava and interviewed and cast the characters. The Chairman was Chandra (Sarath) Wijesinghe, Upali Wijewardena’s uncle. George Chitty, QC, and H. W. Jayewardene, QC, were the other directors. Aubrey Collette was the artistic advisor.

"We never realised what we were going to be in for. I wrote the mother’s role for Iranganie Serasinghe. The little boy had never seen a camera before. We got some Tower Hall people involved. All we wanted was to make a good film for the local market. We were not thinking of Cannes, Berlin or even the Maldives! It took us a year to make the film. Sound was a nightmare. We lit Rs. 6000 worth of crackers to chase away the crows. There were marvellous reviews, but the film failed financially. The audience just couldn’t understand. I even included six songs of Sunil Shantha."

However, something happened which in a way salvaged the film. Maria Schell, the famous German actress, happened to be holidaying in Ceylon and she had wanted to see a local film. She had been taken to the Roxy, where Rekava was being screened.

"She was due to leave in two days. The very next day she gave an interview to the Observer and said that the film has to be sent to Cannes. The Directors of the company agreed to take it to Cannes. There we got good reviews and 4 sales, the French, the Germans, British and Russian buying it.

Sarath, who was a staunch supporter of SWRD, left and became President of the Senate. The others were lawyers, the film had failed, so they decided to close down. This was a big mistake. My next film, Sandesaya, was made for the 10th anniversary of Cinemas. Gunaratnam wanted a prestige film, he said ‘Lester, I don’t mind losing money on it’. Sandesaya ended up minting money! The royalties for the song ‘Purothugeesi Karaya’ would have earned him more than one lakh. One hundred and thirty two copies were made. In fact copies were made until the original negative went to pieces!"

It was during the time of that first submission to the Cannes Festival that Lester met Sumithra, that other ‘figure of destiny’ in his life. Sumithra had been staying with Dr. Vernon Mendis, who was the Charge- d’Affaires in France.

"Titus and I were staying in the hotel opposite his house and he invited us to stay with him. Rekava was the first Sinhala film that Sumithra had seen. I already knew her brother and he had wanted me to advise her about her studies. She wanted to study cinema and I recommended that she go to London. We did Gamperaliya in 1963 and married in 1964."

Including Rekava, Lester has made twenty feature films. Twenty films over forty five years meant that Lester would have been out of work for long periods of time. Most of the property he inherited was used to make films. I asked him what he considers to be his best film. "I am inclined to say, ‘my next film’" he quipped.

"Rekava is special. It is like the first love. Gamperaliya changed our lives. People say that my next film, Wekande Walawwa, is the best. I can’t really judge my films, because I am too close to them."

Lester has been honoured with the title Kalasuri in the first round of such awards in the early eighties. He was won countless awards locally and internationally for his films. The one he cherishes most is the "Legion of Honour" conferred by the French Government, "for the enrichment of film-making". He was honoured in the highest category of "Commander". In the year 2000, the Indian Government honoured him with an award for lifetime achievement in film-making. 
The first such award for foreign film-makers had been given to Bertolucci the previous year. The award for 2001 was to be given to Bergman. Excellent company to be in, certainly.

And yet this man, who perhaps deserves the "needs no introduction" qualifier prior to biographical sketch than anyone else, insists that his contribution to cinema pales in comparison to what cinema did to him.

"I didn’t come into this to get awards. Cinema salvaged me. It brought me to my roots. I had a western education. I was born into a staunch Roman Catholic family. This was two removes from the heartbeat of my people. It was cinema that allowed me to get this close to my country and my people."

He refused to take credit for what most people consider to be the excellence he personifies in the industry. "Film-making is a complicated, co-ordinated effort. The analogy that comes to mind is an orchestra. The film director is like a conductor. He has to interpret a script with a whole group of people."

His humility is probably his most endearing quality. Like all great personalities, he obviously considers himself a student. For Lester, books are like an extension of his body. "I lost the sight of one of my eyes. I dread losing my other eye too, not because I would not be able to see films anymore, but because I would never be able to read again".

According to Lester, there’s a lot more to know about films. He was not talking about just the technological aspects. "Take the ‘Blair Witch Project’ which was made using the most primitive technology, considering we are in the digital age. Clearly there are many secrets in the media. Cinema is still only 100 years old. We are still in the initial stages."

What makes a master in any field a giant, I believe, is his commitment to learning and even more important, his commitment to teaching. Lester has over the years nurtured many a young film maker. I asked him about the future and who among the new directors held the most promise. "When people ask me that question, I tell them that the future of Sinhala film is Prasanna Vithanage. He is disciplined, gifted and a precision worker. Asoka Handagama represents another stream. He is exploring along new avenues and is also doing very important work, this is why I worked hard to promote his last film."

Writing about the pioneering American film maker, David Wark Griffith, Lester made the following observation: "If every medical blotter, every poster on the wall bears the imprint of Picasso’s great inventive genius in design and colour, and every music score in the cheapest B grade movie echoes the rhythms of Stravinsky, then each time we pick up a camera and make a film, wherever we are, we are paying our own tribute to a great master".

Not everyone rises to be worthy of such homage. Lester James Peries, if anyone, deserves such tribute. Growing up, we inevitably encounter Martin Wickramasinghe a personality who according to Lester, was on the same wave length, "although I have less of the political edge". At some point, Sarachchandra and Amaradeva arrive. Perhaps Chitrasena too, although his art is less preservable that the others I have mentioned. Then there is Lester James Peries, whose treatment of the human subject opens a kaleidoscope of windows through which, if we are patient and humble, we can discover those things which help make us more sensitive human beings.

[First published in the Sunday Island on January 20, 2002]

Uva is for vandals (and other tidbits)

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Uva is for vandals?
Party offices in the Uva Province are being attacked by ‘unknown’ thugs.  The ‘know’ part of it (which the Police seems to be clueless about) can be figured out when one notes the fact that the targets are UNP and JVP.  Should we say ‘Uva is for Vandals’?  Or is vandalism a new name for election campaign?  Are the people required to vote for the most ferocious vandal of them all?




Lalkantha buckets Hirunika
In campus parlance ‘bucketing’ refers to one or more persons tossing a bucketful of water, indul wathura or even something more disgusting on someone else.    It is a mark of celebration and it can also be punishment for perceived wrongdoing.  There’s a whole sociological treatise waiting to be written on the subject.  In the past few days buckets have been associated with ice and ALS.  Let’s not get into that. Anyway, Hirunika Premachandra had issued an ice-bucket challenge to JVP’s Lalkantha.  Lalkantha apparently has tossed the bucket back.  ‘The only challenge I am interested in is overthrowing the government,’ he said.   Talk about dampening enthusiasm.  We think, however, that Lalkantha scored.  Big.


The beautiful Indian
If there’s an Ugly American, there has to be a Beautiful American too. The same goes for ugly and beautiful Indians (and Germans, Norwegians, Uzbeks, Sri Lankans and Rwandans too).  There are no prizes for naming the current ‘Ugly Indian’ but if one were asked to name the Beautiful Indian, it has to be Avdhash Kaushal, the Indian social worker who has been appointed to the panel advising the Presidential Commission on Missing Persons and War Crimes.  Avdhash has said that India must respect Lanka’s sovereignty.  He has asked the correct question: ‘How would India feel if Sri Lanka calls on Indian separatists?’ 


Suresh a permanent leader-in-waiting?
Suresh Premachandran, the firebrand, not-so-young but still young enough TNA firebrand, has been vocal, aggressive and has tried to be more Tamil than Prabhakaran himself.  ‘Tamil Nationalist,’ that is.  And yet, for all his efforts, it looks like the old guard has closed ranks.  End result?  Well, Mavai Senathirajah is now tipped to succeed the longstanding party leader R Sampanthan as TNA leader.  But Suresh is not one to take anything lying down, a little bird tells us.  For now, though, looks like he’s been dumped.  Poor Suresh.  



Humble pie for Sajith?
The man wanted to oust Ranil Wickremesinghe.  After each electoral setback, it was the norm for Sajitha Premadasa to launch a fresh campaign to get rid of the leader.  He should get an A for Effort.  At the end of the day, however, he has failed.  A for Effort is useless in politics if one gets F at the term-end report.  He failed.  Now it seems that he has decided to drop can’t-be-done things.  He’s going for No 2.  Hold it!  He WAS the Deputy Leader not too long ago, right?  So what’s the joy in regaining the No 2 spot?  Consolation Prize?

By way of tribute to Sam Wijesinghe

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Pic courtesy Sunday Observer
Sam Wijesinghe, former Secretary General of Parliament, passed away last night at the age of 93.  I interviewed him about 12 years ago but sadly don't have the transcript.  I can't find it on the web either.  But in April 2004, when there was a lot of excitement over the election of the Speaker, Editor of the Sunday Island Manik de Silva asked me to talk with Sam Wijesinghe about 'close elections'.  I was at the Sunday Island at the time. In fact, since I left at the end of April 2004, this is probably the last interview I did.  I reproduce it below by way of tribute to a much-respected civil servant.   




The rumpus reviewed

Sam Wijesinha, who was Secretary General of Parliament for 18 years and was ombudsman for another 10, is widely recognized as an authority on parliamentary tradition and procedure. On April 22, when the marathon vote for speaker was taken, he was watching the entire process from the public gallery. He had much to say about what happened and about close votes in law-making assemblies such as the parliament, not just in recent times, but as far back as 1864. When such an authority speaks, one listens. This is what the Sunday Island recorded.

The election of speaker is essentially a trial of strength. The government wants their candidate to win and the opposition hopes he won’t.

In 1936, at a time when the terms "government" and "opposition" did not exist, the National Congress nominated Francis de Zoysa, a King’s Counsel, outstanding lawyer and prominent figure in the Congress for the speaker’s post. Although there was no opposition, Phillip Gunawardena and N.M. Perera thought they would challenge the old order and put forward an extremely experienced politician as their candidate. Vaityalingam Doraisamy had represented the Northern Province in the legislative assembly in the 20s. There was a third candidate. Charles Batuwanthudawe, another Congress stalwart and a State Council Minister in 1931.

In the first ballot Batuwanthudawe came third, but neither of the other candidates could secure more than 50%. The second vote was a contest between the other two and each got 29 out of a possible 58 votes. In the 3rd poll, Doraisamy got 30 and Zoysa 28. It was revealed later that Mr. Abeygunasekera (Nuwara Eliya), who was seated close to the Marxist twins, was politely but forcibly persuaded to vote for their candidate. Doraisamy was speaker for 12 years and received a knighthood in the process. He was popular and his impartiality is legendary.

The next contest resulting in defeat was in March 1960, when Dudley was asked to form a minority government with a bare 40 out of a total of 100 MPs. The UNP candidate for speaker was Sir Albert F Peiris. He was defeated by T.B. Subasinghe.

Generally the defeat of a government candidate at the very first trial of strength is an indication of the relative strength of the parties and so it is in this case. Regardless of the optimism expressed before the election, the final result is a warning to the government that their programme of new laws may not be as successful as they hoped.

The speaker is expected to hold the scales even and be impartial in any question that arises. Generally, speakers have acted fairly, leaving little room for accusations of partisanship. Being human, they also make mistakes.

Thursday’s election began calmly. The ballot papers were distributed and the MPs were told to write the name of the candidate their prefer out of the two whose names were proposed and seconded. But as some walked out with the ballot papers, points of order were raised and there was pandemonium for more than 45 minutes. Members were shouting at each other and behaving in a very boisterous way. It was impossible to see any order.

There are many criticisms, but if one reflects calmly on the exhibition of very poor behaviour, one concludes that this is a very fine indication of the lack of discipline in the whole country. We are not a nation used to listening. We talk without allowing someone else to say something. If this is not stopped in schools and houses, we will never be a nation of polite listeners. The representatives of the people represent them in their very shortfall of good manners.

Of the vote itself, it is difficult to understand the order in which members were called upon to vote. It looked like the government went first. I think it was unfair. They should have been called to vote, as is normally done, according to alphabetical order (of one of the three languages).

Some members of the government side who came up to vote started showing their ballot paper, like a prize winner shows a trophy that has been won. This conduct gathered momentum as voting went on. But no one had the courage to say this should stop, it being a secret ballot, even though I doubt that people could see what was written, given the distance.

During the first ballot, which took well over two hours, there was comparatively good behaviour from both sides. When the result was announced and it was a tie, lot of people didn’t realize that according to procedures, you must have a second ballot.

Remarks were cast at the monks who walked out with their ballot papers. It was presumed that the two who decided to vote (sitting with the government and later with the other monks) voted for the government side.

During the second ballot, disorder burst out. Allegations and counter-allegations were being flung around and the conduct became so boisterous that the second vote had to be stopped.

The Secretary General, clearly exhausted, walked away. Most of the members went out, presumably for lunch and came back for the third fight, during which the monks who had not voted, voted, a decision made to counter the two who broke ranks. This effectively nullified the effect of the monks’ votes for one side. I believe the decision of the two monks who decided to vote on the third ballot was not so much to be partisan but negate the advantages that resulted from the conduct of the 2 who had broken ranks.

Ultimately the opposition candidate emerged winner by a single vote. The result was accepted by the house. It was well after 7.00 p.m. when they departed.

The occasion was not, as anarchic as made out by a large number of television exposures. The boisterous period was comparatively short, compared with the almost 10 hours of proceedings in the house. We can look forward to peaceful parliamentary activity especially now since the relative strengths of the two sides is fairly well established. There is nothing to say that the presence of a speaker from the opposition will invariably make government impossible. In England, Betty Boothroyd was elected by the conservatives because she was doing an excellent job as speaker.

With regard to the numbers, of votes, seats and percentages, let us remember that in 1956, the UNP got over 800,000 votes but secured only 8 seats whereas the MEP, with approximately a million votes got 60. Each UNP seat was worth 89,000 votes and each MEP one 17,500!

In 1970 the UNP polled 19 lakhs and got 17 seats while the others polled just 18 lakhs for 91 seats. In this case, the UNP had to get 111,500 votes per seat while the others had to poll only 20,250 per seat.
In 1977, the UNP with 32 lakhs, won 140 seats, while the SLFP got only 8 for the 12 lakhs they polled. One seat was secured for every 23,000 votes polled by the UNP and in the case of the opposition, they had to poll 148,000 per seat.

Therefore too much should not be made of the 700,000 votes the Alliance got over the UNP.

In retrospect, what JR Jayewardene wanted to do with the 1978 constitution is to ensure that people get a fair number of seats for votes polled in the entire country. The present parliament has 166 Sinhalese, 37 Tamils, 21 Muslims and 1 Parsee. The minorities add up to 59, which is 26%. The problem is that for other reasons the 1978 constitution is unworkable. It was geared for JR.

It is not only the election of the speaker that has resulted in tight votes. In 1964, there were three votes for amendment of the vote of thanks on the throne speech. The first two were defeated but the third was carried 74-73, a margin of a single vote. The exercise was essentially a vote of confidence and the government lost. Although the government could carry on, Mrs. Bandaranaike said, "No, I lost. I must go."

Interestingly, exactly a century earlier, an amendment vote was carried through by the same margin. The session of the legislative council was opened by Major General O’Brien, who was Acting Governor.


The vote on the first amendment proposed was lost, but the second amendment was carried 6 votes to 5. Five of these six were locals and the sixth, Thompson, voted with them because the Public Works Department was charged with incompetence, and Thompson’s son happened to be an engineer in the PWD! Interestingly also, it was S.W.R.D. Bandaranaike’s ancestor, James D’Alwis who had maneuvered the vote this way.


We don't need another hero

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Yes, that’s from Tina Turner’s song from the 1985 film Mad Max: Beyond Thunderdome, written by Terry Britten and Graham Lyle. The line came to me, strangely, after I had just told a set of schoolchildren that we don’t need to look beyond our shores to find heroes (if indeed we needed any, I should have added).

The line is nice and echoes another from Brecht’s ‘Galileo’ (again from beyond our shores): ‘Unhappy is the land that needs a hero’ (and not ‘a land that has not hero’). We don’t need another hero and we don’t need to know the way home (the song goes) for we already have our heroes (or are our own heroes) and we are already home.

I was telling those children about Marion Jones. They knew of her (well, most of them did). They knew of Usain Bolt (their general knowledge was above average, they would think). They knew of Tiger Woods. Susanthika Jayasinghe they had heard of. They hadn’t heard of a man called Ranatunga Karunananda.

Those who unwittingly inhabit others’ versions of their realities might find Karunananda in a different way, I realized. If they scanned world cinema, the greatest or the most entertaining flicks, they might come across Ron Ichikawa’s ‘Tokyo Olympiad’ (Tokyo Orimpikku).

They would no doubt be amazed to learn that a man who came last in the 10,000m race was also featured among the winners, including the incredible Ethiopian, Abebe Bikila who was the first Black African to win an Olympic gold medal and the first to win the marathon twice in a row.

Karunananda didn’t compete in the marathon. He was placed 47th out of 52 in the 5000m race and started the 10,000 with a bad cold and a considerably weakened body. This was in 1964, when athletes didn’t chicken out if they were less than 100 percent fit, a time when athletes were not pampered with sponsorships, employment, vehicles, houses and other gifts. Karunananda competed because he wanted his little daughter to be happy that he competed, from start to finish. He came last. He could have stopped at any point, it would not have changed anything. He didn’t. He was with the leaders when Billy Mills of the USA breasted the tape. That’s because he had been lapped four times by that time.

When he continued, it surprised the spectators. When he came around they jeered. When he came around a second time, there was silence. And then there was cheering. Wild applause. He finished the race to a standing ovation that exceeded the salutation that the spectators gave Mills. Mills is reported to have said that the gold should have gone to Karunananda. Days after the race he still received gifts from sympathetic Japanese. One housewife wrote, ‘I saw you on TV, running all alone and I could not keep back my tears’. 

He was the original ‘Marathon Karu’ (the subsequent Marathon Karu, better known, died with Jeyaraj Fernandopulle in a suicide attack). The Japanese remember. His story is related to schoolchildren to teach the virtue of determination and the triumph of the human spirit. Karu was offered a job in Japan. A few days before he was to leave Sri Lanka, he died. Some say he died in an accident. Some say he was murdered. Some say he just disappeared.

Years later a Japanese television crew arrived in Sri Lanka to do a documentary on this incredible man. No one knew him. They had been taken to the then ‘Marathon Karu’ by mistake and he had helped the Japanese find the man’s family.
Karu’s wife had lost her mind when her husband ‘died’.

The family was literally on the street until a kind relative had offered to take care of the children. The Japanese TV crew found Karu’s son, a teacher. He too had a story.
One day some schoolchildren had been playing around a bonfire; the leaves in the school premises had been swept and set fire to. One little child had tripped and got thrown into the fire.

The others watched helplessly as her clothes caught fire. Karu’s son, it was reported, had jumped into the fire and saved the child. How and why had he risked his life? He had a simple answer: ‘I have a little girl about the same age.’

Tina Turner’s song has these lines: ‘So what do we do with our lives? We leave only a mark. Will our story shine like a light or end in the dark?’ People leave marks, some more prominent than others. Some shine like a light, some end in the dark. Those who see, are privileged and those who don’t are poorer for that un-knowing.

It was tough relating this story to a hall full of students, ages ranging from 12 to 19. I had to gulp in a lot of air to hold back my tears. I managed to smile at the end, though.
‘We don’t have to look beyond our shores,’ I told them. ‘We are a nation blessed with our own heroes.’ There’s one in every body in fact. We don’t have to remember anyone, we don’t need any heroes, but if we want to remember men and women who stood taller than the multitude, then let’s spare a thought for Ranatunga Karunananda. 

*First published in the Daily News, May 5, 2010
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