Malinda Words

Everyone takes note. Some keep notes. Some in diaries and journals. Some in their minds and hears. Some of these are shared via email or on Facebook or blog; some are not. Among these people are Kolombians, people from Colombo who know much -- so much that they are wont to think that others don't know and can't think. This is the fifth in a series published in 'The Nation' under the title 'Notes of an Unrepentant Kolombian'.

Small people talk about people. Bigger people talk about events. Great people discuss ideas. The greatest don’t talk – they do. This is ancient wisdom. This small-big-bigger-biggest concept can be applied to other things.

The poor bet on lottery tickets. The not-as-poor bet on horses and dogs. The rich go to casinos, bet on cards and at roulette tables. The super rich play the share market. Note how the chances of winning increases the richer you are! At the poor-end you get lottery vendors. They are in the hope-retailing business. People can and do lose at the rich-end of course, but if you keep your head you can always break even. Then there’s the share market. If you have the bucks and you have a head, you are through. You are laughing. Those who have bucks but let greed discolor judgment can lose. By and large at the end of the day the big boys are still at the crease, making a lot of runs.

Sri Lanka is a small country. Everyone knows everyone, almost. When it comes to the business community, we are just a handful of people – those who count, that is. And most of us are Kolombians. We club together. Our kids date each other. There’s a lot of wealthy-marrying-wealthy in our tribe. We basically know who owns what and who wants to do what with what they have. We have what could be called a healthy rivalry going among ourselves.

Sure there are ups and downs. When it is ‘up’, we laugh. When it’s ‘down’ we blame the Government for failing to streamline the Colombo Stock Exchange. We complain that the rules and regulations are tweaked to help the stooges. We have enough economists, financial experts and even politicians in the Opposition who not only have shares but can talk shares. They raise a hue and cry. They won’t say ‘We are Kolombians’ of course. When it is ‘up,’ as we said, we make do our thing, make our bucks and we don’t even have to laugh all the way to the bank thanks to enhanced technology that allows us to point-click our way to places way beyond the reach of the riff-raff.

There is of course the unpalatable. There are some baiyas who have become big shots of late. They have the inside track so to speak. They’ve risen and how! They’ve even purchased large swathes of the best real estate in our traditional homeland. It’s quite insufferable. It would be nice if they joined the club and gradually become Kolombians in their own right. Over a few generations, let me add, for we can’t give membership to just anyone, especially some yakkos who have the gumption to sneer at us. The problem is that they think they actually own the club and that they can give themselves membership and worse even strut around as though they are elected representatives of the exclusive Kolombian Collective.

We want them out and we shall hoof them out. Sooner or later. Our bloodlines must remain pure.

But until then, we are not exactly scrambling for crumbs in some dingy back bedroom of a slum, mind you. As I said, we are the big boys and girls in this business. We have the inside track. Others might make a run but we are the biggest winners when it’s ‘up’ and when it’s ‘down’ we can sit the bad times out without going under. That’s the lovely thing about being Kolombians. The country may go to the baiyas for some time, but you won’t catch us losing out.

These are moving-around days. There’s talk of people crossing party lines. There are people plotting regime-change. There are people getting ready to counter such moves. People are talking to people. We have the Constitution Abolishers. We have the Constitution Amenders. Then there are people trying to cobble together parties and other political groups as well as prominent personalities in a grand coalition that would support a ‘Common Candidate from the Opposition’. These same people are also busy trying to find a ‘Common Candidate’.

These are talking days. Some people are smelling blood. Others smell something else, but thinking it has to be blood, are salivating. Still others are not taking chances and are focusing on closing ranks. They are keeping partners under check even as they try to woo key members of the other side. Others are watching. Some are listening.

Even the biggest talkers must have a breather. During a break in a long discussion that had already taken half a day, a man called Sarath N Silva found himself in a parallel universe called ‘Humility’. He was not alone. Those present had been discussing the Constitution, its inherent ills, its significant positives and the virtues of amending or abrogating the same. But in this calmer and less loquacious place, no one wanted to ‘continue the conversation over a cup of tea or coffee’ as one of the key organizers had suggested. They spoke of other things.

‘Why did you do it, Sir?’ a green-eyed MP from the Opposition asked the ex Chief Justice.

Before the man could respond, a man red-eyed from sleep-lack on account of thinking too much about a blunder made in 2005 blurted out, ‘he always played politics!’

‘Yes, first with the lady and then with the gent!’ murmured the head of an NGO currently under a massive cloud due to allegations of fraud.

‘Come, come, let us not quarrel here…we have to focus on the objective and we have to put aside our differences. We can’t afford to dwell on the past. We must look to the future.’ That was a bikkhu who some thought might be The Answer but others felt could only be a weaker SF.

‘But we are on a break right now,’ the green-eyed one protested.

‘I’ve already said that I was in error. What more do you want?’

‘In error? Are you serious? You’ve not only ensured that the Opposition gets weaker by the day but made sure that whoever wins can turn a wafer-thin majority into a two-thirds majority!’

‘Oh that? I thought you were talking about Helping Hambantota!’ the ex-judge said.

‘That’s history. I am talking about people crossing over and how the ruling you gave facilitated it.’

‘Yes, yes. So what was your question again?’

‘Why did you do it?’

‘Well, our rathu sahodaraya, was correct. Deep down I am a political animal. Like anyone else.’

‘Oh no. Don’t flatter yourself. There have been many CJs who remained untouched by the dirty and crass of politics.’

‘Good for them. I am a connoisseur of this thing called “The Art of the Possible”. I did my bit. Indeed that’s what I am doing now too. People objected when I determined when Chandrika’s term ends. People objected to the Helping Hambantota decision. People even objected to my ruling on MPs crossing over. Look around you. Most, if not all of these objectors, have either benefited from my decisions or else have become fond of obtaining my advice. You people should know that there are no permanent enemies of friends. It’s the same for political positions.’

‘But we expect more from someone like you, Sir!’

‘I didn’t flatter myself, so why are you trying to make out that I ought to behave in a way that is flatter-worthy?’ Silva raised the obvious question.

‘It’s this. We are confused. We don’t know who is who. He or she who is with the Government today may be with us tomorrow, but it’s more likely that the person who we call comrade and with who we plot and plan to oust the regime will be on their side the day after. We just can’t trust anyone. It’s ok being in the opposition. If we have to wait for six years, we will. But there has to be some basic kind of predictability. You’ve done away with that!’

‘Son, let me tell you a secret. People think and I let them think that for all my expertise on constitutions and separation of power, and indeed my self-proclaimed deep study of the scriptures, I remain a creature fascinated by the political.’

‘Go on..’

‘It’s a cover!’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I did all that and do all that I do now because I am at the core a very lonely person leading a humorless life. I did all that and do all that I do now because I need some entertainment! Your agitation amuses me. As for your confusion, what do you think I am laughing off as I roll on the floor when I get home?’

‘Break over!’ the bikkhussaid.

‘Ehey haamuduruwane,’ the others said in unison. Sarath N Silva was grinning. The others were not.

TEAM 83 with their die-hard fans

They were the oldest among the Old Boys of Royal College who had gathered at the CR&FC grounds. They had gathered to play rugby. That’s six-a-side rugby. Inter-batch. Organized by the Group of ’91. Three categories: Over 40, Between 30 and 40, and Below 30. The members of the Group of 83 or ’83 Batch’ will be hitting 50 next year. Just being there, even if only as spectators, would have been creditable, many would argue.

They didn’t come to watch, though. They came to play. They came to win. Now that’s something. Sure, they wouldn’t have to play the batch that had just left school, but competing against men who had just turned forty was no easy task.

Sampath Agalawatte --
hasn't lost a move since 1984

They were short of a couple of players. Maheel Kuragama and Sisila Indraratne had in previous years helped the team secure 11 out of 12 titles on offer. They had the skill and the speed. And the heart. Just like the other ‘regulars’, led by the Bradby-winning skipper of 1984 Sampath Agalawatte, Ajith ‘Hard As Nails’ Weeratunga (this year’s captain), Hiran Doranegama (better known in rowing circles), Krishan George (former basketball captain of Sri Lanka, winger in ’84 and also the anchor of the 4x800 relay that won at the Public Schools Athletics Meet the same year) and Aruna Jayasekera (rugby referee and easily the fastest in the team). Jayantha and Hiran’s older brother Kamal made up the ‘six’. Kamal was several years senior and therefore an ‘import,’ but no one complained. How could they when age is seen as handicap and not unfair edge?

INTENSITY (Aruna Jayasekera)

So they took the field, these old men, on a balmy Saturday afternoon. They were drawn to play the Batch of ’93. That’s a ten year gap. They were nothing like they had been 30 years ago, but were still quite fast. ‘Agale’ had lost nothing of his moves as the play-making skipper of ’84. He sold dummies as easily as he always had, made a break, score and earn a semi-final spot. The organizers announced, ‘We have a surprise result – the 84 Batch beat the 93 Batch’.

The Semi-Final was against the 87 Batch. The younger ‘boys’ were 1 short and requested that the 83 Batch play one short as well. Granted. It’s all about the spirit of the event, after all. It was a keen contest right up to the end when Ajith made a break on the right wing and ‘scored’. Technically, he didn’t, he went past the goal area. The 87 ‘men’ said ‘It’s a try’. All about the spirit of the game. After all, they were playing against the oldest men on the ground in fading light.

TEAM 89 Worthy Opponents, worthy joint champs

The toughest was the final. The 89 Batch was led by Roshan Noah and included Sri Lanka colorsman Alfred Hensman. Agale, who picked up a hamstring injury in the first game, played only a few minutes. Both teams threatened at times only to be foiled by good defense from the faster men on the ground. Ajith probably had the best chance but was ‘touched’ (‘barely,’ he later conceded) just before ‘scoring’. Disallowed, correctly.

The game went into extra time but neither side could score. ‘Toss of coin,’ the organizers said. ‘Let’s share it,’ both teams agreed that a toss would not do justice to a contest between equally matched teams that played their hearts out in the dark, fighting age, fitness and fatigue. And so they were declared ‘Joint Champs’.

Just before the first game a team photo was taken. The 83 Batch standing in front of a ‘Lemonade’ hoarding that had the following legend: ‘Turn on the freshness’. They certainly did. As did the Group of 89, most worthy joint-champions. As did the 87 Batch, sportsmen to the core. And of course the 93 Batch, who were certainly no ‘passengers’ or were just making up the numbers. They were all quite young that evening. Thanks also due to the 91 Batch for enabling youthful freshness. The old men, however, were the youngest. They turned on unbelievable volumes of freshness. Take a bow, the Batch of 83.

‘I can’t stand seeing paddy fields like this!’ a 13 year old girl blurts out. The said paddy field had probably been ploughed a day or two previously. Ploughed but not evened out for transplanting. The soil was upturned. There had been a lot of rain and so it was all a mess of earthy lumps. All muddy. One would describe it as ‘dreary’.

Her father, who for whatever reason was fascinated by the entire process of rice production including the transformation in color, tried to turn ‘dreary’ into something positive, said ‘You know there’s beauty in all the stages from ploughing to…’

She didn’t let him finish: ‘No Appachchi, you don’t understand…when I see paddy fields like this I just want to jump in, shoes and all, and just slosh around!’

It’s something any child will understand. Adults tend to forget such joys. Mud and puddles are fun things. It’s lovely to splash around. It’s as lovely when one’s bare feet sink into the cool mud. Of course you have to clean up later, but then again the wonderful thing about ‘later’ is that it is certainly not ‘right now’.

The little girl has sloshed around in mud enough, with and without shoes -- enough to know the joy of feeling the earth beneath her feet, whether it is muddy or not. Sure, it’s not fun when you are walking on a patch of pebbles barefoot. You can cut your feet. You can step on an odd-shaped stone and sprain your ankle. That’s no fun. But then again you can pick and choose where you want to keep your feet. You can pick and choose when not to venture out barefoot unless of course it is absolutely necessary that you do so.

Think of grass. It’s cool, especially when it has rained. Grass by the road on hot days is certainly kinder on your feet than the road itself. Think of the beach. There’s hot sand that burns and then there’s the mushy, cool sections you can dig your feet and toes into because the waves keep it wet. Even roads that you would not want to step on without footwear at noon have a special texture during and after it rains. The cement floor feels nice and cool too, at certain times of the day, but only if we take off our slippers, sandals or shoes.

Not all terrain invites us to toss aside our shoes and take a walk. But we can always find a bit of earth that will not hurt or burn but instead cool and heal. The earth is not made of sand, pebbles, grass, weeds, concrete and tar. It is made of heat and coolness. Some places are warm. Some are hot. Some are cool. Some parts are hard and some are soft. We can bounce along on certain surfaces or, like the little girl said, sink our feet in and slosh around on other surfaces. We won’t know these things if we are scared to kick off our shoes now and then, however.

Several years ago, in a small village called Walgama, not too far from a town called Rambukkana, a bunch of children were playing near a tract of paddy fields. There was a rock about 100 meters from where they were. A little girl, about 5 years old, walked along the path that skirted the paddy fields towards the rock. When she was about half way there, her older sister, the same girl who was agitated seeing the ploughed paddy field, felt an urge to somehow beat her kid sister to the rock. She knew she couldn’t catch up if she took the same route. She had to cut across the paddy fields. The fields had been ploughed and readied for sowing or planting. The niyaras or bunds that separated each liyadda or plot were all repaired and freshly coated with mud neatly leveled. In a few days it would be rock hard, but at that point it was made for slipping and sliding. She would have known the risks. She just ran. Like the wind. She didn’t make it to the rock before her sister did, but she didn’t slip, slide or fall either. She must have known something about how mud feels on the soles.

It’s good to feel the earth beneath your feet. The earth has so much to teach us. But we must be properly dressed if we are to learn the lessons. Sometimes ‘dressing’ means you have to take off your shoes. Like when you enter a place of worship. The gods take care of you if you are respectful and have faith in them. The earth does too.

Other articles in this series:

How would you paint the sky?

The happiest days of our lives

You can fly if you want to

Pebbles are amazing things

You can compose your own music

So what do you want to do with the rain?

He still makes it to the 'May Day Stage'. Barely.

Twenty five years ago a man was killed. He was one of some 60,000 who had been killed in those gruesome days of the late eighties. It is reported that he had been tortured and shot. It is reported that he was still alive when he was tossed into the incinerator at the General Cemetery, Borella. This was at the tail end of the second insurrection launched by the Janatha Vimukthi Peramuna (JVP).

By this time, most of the key leaders had been eliminated. The rank and file was decimated along with hundred of suspected supporters. It was a time of abduction and torture, proxy arrests and trigger-happy vigilante groups, assassination of political figures, academics and journalists, and summary execution. It was a time of courage and foolhardiness; a time when acts of terrorism by self-styled ‘revolutionaries’ was met by acts of terrorism by the State. It was a time of anarchy which effectively ended with that particular murder.

Rohana Wijeweera, hero for some and villain for many, left a signature on the political landscape of post-independence Sri Lanka. There is the fact of masterminding two (failed) insurrectionary assaults on the state. The JVP, as Dr Gamini Samaranayake has argued, also demonstrated that armed insurrection was an option and that the state was not ready. It’s a lesson that no one learned better than the LTTE. A lesson that was never learned was this: the state, over time, corrects for deficiency and prevails unless there’s a mass uprising that complements or there is pernicious outside intervention by forces far superior. The last ‘combine’ does not deliver revolution but further subjugation (e.g. Arab Spring).

‘Rohana Wijeweera’ is a doctoral dissertation waiting to be written, a novel that could be an adventure story, a horror story or even a comedy. Such was his historical presence from the late sixties to the late eighties. And yet, he has not inspired ‘rebels’ who came later in the way their preferred heroes such as Che Guevara or José Martí have. This could be because of the kind of rebel he was.

He could deliver a stirring speech which could excite sections of the youth made more of heart than mind. He was not endowed with a great intellect but was nevertheless a good strategist – knew to pick the slogan of the moment. He was never in battle fatigues, so to speak. He had nothing of the courage and sense of sacrifice the men he led possessed. In 1971 he was essentially an adventurist. In 88-89 he showed signs of megalomania. Such men don’t inspire.

The post-Wijeweera JVP does little more than acknowledge a political presence. In rhetoric, ideological assertion and practice, the present set of leaders have effectively distanced themselves from the man, his methods and even his vision. They have all but abandoned the class project which Wijeweera the Populist at least paid lip service to and even convinced many young people it was everything to the JVP.

Twenty five years later, the party still has the Wijeweera signature. Red. The Bell symbol. Great May Day shows. Poster-boys. A university presence large enough to play spoiler on occasion. An ability to show a strong commitment to discipline. The thrust however, in circumstances that gradually declined after the 2004 ‘peak’ of some 40 MPs, has been about saving face. They still have a fixation with the streets but it’s something that seems more of a throwback to a romantic time than anything else. They have union strength. Just can’t seem to put it all together. It could be put down to ideological confusion, intellectual poverty or dismissal by the population in general or a combination of these.

There were ‘highs’ no doubt. The JVP pushed through the 17^th Amendment. The JVP helped Mahinda Rajapaksa become President, in hindsight a necessary (though not sufficient) condition for eliminating the LTTE. But then again, they suffered the same fate that befell the ‘Old Left’. The stronger coalition partner remained unmoved by demands and the weaker had to split.

There was always a cloak-n-dagger faction, apparently. There was also the nationalist faction that was not impressed with the JVP’s Marxist pretensions. Both factions went their separate ways. What was left is committed to mainstream democratic politics, good for a few parliamentary seats and for putting up posters in regime-change adventures but not much else.

Rohana Wijeweera is no more. He left a trail of blood. His JVP could destabilize. For a while. The JVP that came after has had its ups and downs, threatened to score a couple of times but was either tackled or dropped the ball. They are mild when it comes to political engagement. No strong arm tactics except where they have some degree of power (the universities). They’ve put to shame their colleagues from other parties when it comes to parliamentary conduct. Overall a plus score that eluded the founder.

If the JVP is still politically relevant it is not because of Rohana Wijeweera but in spite of him. That says a lot about the political legacy and of course the historical significance of the man. Dead and rarely lamented. Irrelevant, someone might add.

Pic by Rukshan Abeywansha

This is the seventh in a series of articles on rebels and rebellion written for the FREE section of 'The Nation'. 'FREE' is dedicated to youth and youthfulness.

More than twenty years ago some undergraduates staged a protest. This was at the University of Peradeniya. It was not a major issue but for some reason the student leaders were not able to sort it out with the university authorities through discussion. The students protested.

It didn’t seem to have any effect. Suddenly a first year student got up and said that he will launch a fast unto death. Some of the senior students calmed him down. They told him that if such a course of action was chosen for an issue that was relatively trivial, they would have to take the Vice Chancellor hostage if there was a more serious matter to deal with.

Not too many years before that, i.e. during the turbulence at the end of the eighties, at a meeting of second year students of the same faculty, someone suggested that the entire batch must boycott lectures. The reason, they said, was that a fellow student of the same batch had been arrested. It was a time when the student leaders wanted the universities closed or at least the academic work disrupted. Everyone knew this. Some were brave enough to object to the business of boycotting lectures at the drop of a hat.

That arrest had taken place a few months earlier and so someone pointed out that it was strange that the proposal had been voiced so late. Another objected in a different way.

‘There was a time when all the universities would boycott lectures if one student had been arrested. Later, only the particular university that the arrested student belonged to would boycott. Then just the particular faculty. Now you want the batch to boycott. Next would you want just the roommate to “strike”?’

The criticism was about the direction in which a protest should move. It was also about something else, something that is relevant to the first case detailed above. Proportion.

Dimensions matter. All the time. And if you are a rebel you have to be twice as more particular about the length, breadth and depth of things than other political animals, simply because you are by definition on the weaker side of the equation (if you were not, you would have the power to eliminate the cause of your agitation). Your error gets amplified; that of the enemy can be subdued.

This doesn’t mean you should not make grand claims of course. There’s nothing wrong in stating objective. You are not in this to lose. You want to win. You are convinced you can win. So you go ahead to describe what victory will look like. Through it all, you have to keep in mind that you are not yet there. There is distance to be covered, still. The getting there is never easy.

Once a self-proclaimed set of revolutionaries put up posters all over the island vowing to kill 10 (or was it 20) members of a soldier’s family for every ‘revolutionary’ killed. That was the beginning of the end. The Army, which didn’t seem at all enthusiastic about crushing the insurrection, got very serious about things.

That was an extreme example of course. But in general, proportions matter. Size matters. You need to know the size of the enemy and also the sizes of its constituent parts so that you can identify its weaker elements and attack them. You need to know your size too. There’s often a gap between pledge to act and action itself.

Not too long ago, some brave young people wanted to replicate the ‘Arab Spring’ in Sri Lanka. They called it ‘Colombo Spring’. They probably believed all the lies people said about social media playing a key role in the ‘Arab Spring’. So they took the matter on Facebook. Lots of ‘likes’ and ‘shares’. Lots of ‘I will attend’. No one turned up.

So make a lot of noise. It’s good to be heard. But remember if you make too much noise or rather the noise is way out of proportion to numbers and will, you will find deliverability a big problem. ‘Big on talk,’ people will sneer. Worse, the ‘comrades’ will lose faith in the leaders and in themselves. It’s good to have vision, but one must remember that most things get tested on the ground. ‘The Ground’ is made of dimensions. There are proportions. They matter.

Previous articles in this series

Dear Rebel, have you got the e-factor out of the way?

Have you carefully considered the f-word?

It is so easy to name the enemy, right?

The p-word cuts both ways

Cards get reflected in eyes, did you know?

It's all about timing

Tilvin Silva of the JVP made an interesting point at the commemoration of comrades slain in 1988-89: ‘Mahinda has already run half the race.’ The constitution favors incumbent. Authorities turn a blind eye on the abuse of state resources and indeed the institutional arrangement is so poor in terms of checks and balances that this is a ‘given’. Citizens have, sadly, resolved to shoulder-shrug in a ‘par for the course’ sense. And then there’s the Opposition: broken, confused and running around in circles. So yes, Tilvin has a point.

Mahinda Rajapaksa has been running for re-election since January 2010. He had the J R Jayewardena and Chandrika Kumaratunga presidencies to figure out the fate of a lame duck incumbent. His decline would begin on Day 1. He must have started plotting the 18^th Amendment the moment he was re-elected. He had the numbers in Parliament. He got it passed.

There was of course what appeared to be a hiccup in the form of the former Chief Justice, Sarath N Silva raising the issue of ineligibility. JVP leader Anura Kumara Dissanayake referring to this as well as the Supreme Court’s dismissal of the objection, claims that even a schoolboy would know that the President was ineligible. This means that for four years, Anura as well as the JVP had the political maturity of toddlers and nothing more. After the SC determination, Silva says ‘nothing can be done now except defeating him in an election’. It is almost as though he brought the issue up to ensure that Rajapaksa would not be stumped on nomination day.

Sections of the Opposition briefly flirted with the idea of a Chandrika come-back. Ranil Wickremesinghe is reported to have supported the idea. If this is true it only indicates that he doesn’t believe he can defeat Rajapaksa. Dayan Jayatilleka got it right when he said that if anyone can do worse than Ranil it is Chandrika. She was President for 11 years and has nothing to show for it. She played hide and seek with the LTTE and came off second best. She has nothing concrete to show compared to what Rajapaksa can brag about. Rajapaksa, moreover, presided over a comprehensive victory over terrorism. Track records will be compared. In any case, Silva’s antics have effectively dumped the Chandrika Candidacy idea in the bin. She can keep out of things or she can support an Opposition candidate. She would be a liability more than an asset in the latter case.

Mahinda has things to show. That counts. It counts more than things that begin with ‘If I am elected…’ He has his liabilities and handicaps but to make these count the Opposition has to start running, to take from Tilvin’s observation. Right now, though, while Mahinda has got off the blocks and is half way towards the finishing line, all the running that the Opposition seems to be doing is ‘in circles’.

Mahinda has the show-tell advantage. He has the regime-fatigue handicap. He has the incumbency edge, but has to deal with the fallout of non-deliverability on several issues. Abolishing the executive presidency is a non-issue for the average voter, but law and order is an in-your-face matter. He has failed there and he can thank the thugs and crooks he has indulged or cultivated for this. His coalition has not seemed as solid as it used to be. There has been audible grumbling about the ‘Clan mentality of the Rajapaksas’. These haven’t resulted in major cracks. The Opposition, with its own confusion and fractures, is a hardly attractive place for dissenting voices to relocate. As of now, only the JHU seems uncertain or supporting him for the third time, but there is no guarantee that a possible JHU exit would precipitate an exodus that is significant.

The weight of the ‘JHU factor’ will depend on whether they support someone put forward by the UNP or whether they decide to contest separately. A JHU candidate would be a spoiler but it is hard to say who gets spoiled. If Ranil is contesting, the Ranil-Mahinda gap could be so wide that the JHU would be a non-factor. Such a candidate might get a few disgruntled votes from both sides. A Karu Jayasuriya candidacy might succeed in obtaining JHU support. Whether this would translate into victory is left to be seen.

The Opposition right now appears hell bent on making most of the above irrelevant. What the voter is seeing is a bunch of self-serving politicians under-cutting one another. Sajith Premadasa is playing spoiler. He knows he can’t defeat Rajapaksa and therefore he doesn’t want anyone else, particularly Karu Jayasuriya, to have a shot the presidency. He backs Ranil because he is banking on turning Ranil’s probably defeat into an edge in ousting the man as Party Leader. Ranil holds the cards: he decides who will contest. If he feels he can’t win then he would want to put forward a loser. Karu doesn’t know who to trust. The Opposition’s self-appointed spin-doctors are not helping by throwing other names into the hat: Arjuna Ranatunga, Chandrika, Ven Maduluwawe Sobitha Thero and even Maithripala Sirisena of the SLFP (he has since ‘opted out,’ clearly signaling that the rank and file of the ruling party doesn’t want to gamble on an iffy Opposition candidate).

The JVP ran with Silva’s objection and is now left without a slogan. ‘Boycott’ seems to be the face-saving option, but this might result in further erosion of vote base in a possible General Election following the probable Presidential Election in early January.

Tilvin, then, is describing only part of the unfolding political. Mahinda is not only half way there, the Opposition is running in the opposite direction.

Former TNA leader and veteran politician R Sampanthan has raised important concerns that are shared by many outside his party’s constituency. China. He is worried that ‘Chinese influence on Sri Lanka has grown exponentially’. This goes counter to a foreign policy that has ‘followed non-alignment for decades,’ he says.

Sampanthan is particularly upset that the Government has privileged China over India. He gives it in numbers. Chinese support is 98% loans and 2% grants, he argues, comparing it with ‘a more generous India’ that has 2:1 loan-grant ratio. China’s support-share is almost twice that of India, he concedes, but nevertheless laments the Government’s ‘insensitivity to the concerns of its neighbor’. He stresses that the Chinese loans would be turned into equity and points out that ‘it was a grave concern for many Lankans worried about its impact on the island’s independence and sovereignty’.

Now first of all, Mr Sampanthan seems to have forgotten that non-alignment was effectively abandoned in 1977. The UNP first danced to US-Japan tunes and then fell on knees before India. Ranasinghe Premadasa tried to clear some independence-ground but at the cost of mollycoddling the LTTE. He paid more than he bargained for. Chandrika Kumaratunga went the JR-way for the most part. Mahinda Rajapaksa, to his credit, smiled at everyone but did not harbor any illusions about stated friendship.

It is heartening that Sampanthan gets hot under the collar about things such as independence and sovereignty, given a considerable track record of undermining both. If this change of heart is real then the confusion over history and reality can certainly be forgiven. The problem is that it is difficult to trust the man.

Even as he bats for non-alignment, Sampanthan wants Sri Lanka to keep India happy. He doesn’t want Sri Lanka ‘to undermine India’s interests’. Well, Sri Lanka has to look after its own interests and if this upsets some other country, hard luck. Sri Lanka can plead ‘non-alignment’ and ask Sampanthan to defend positions against all objections. But Sampanthan can’t because he is not non-aligned.

He believes that there’s a deliberate plan by the Government ‘to isolate India and thereby free itself from obligations made to India in the interests of reconciliation, peace and harmony’. Why is this great champion of Sri Lanka’s independence and sovereignty not upset about obligations made to the people of this country in the first instance? He knows, for example, that the 13^th Amendment was a document JR had to sign while a pistol was held to his head, so to speak. Recovering independence and sovereignty, therefore, must begin with an unceremonious burial of the same, surely?

And why is he upset about India getting isolated? If Sri Lanka can isolate India, then Sri Lanka must indeed be far more powerful than people believe it is. Is India so weak that it can be isolated by Sri Lanka? And even if that were possible why should this great and proud Sri Lankan who is so fixated with the island’s independence and sovereignty be upset about anyone else getting upset by Sri Lanka’s foreign policy?

Finally, what moral right does Sampanthan have to indulge in independence-speak when he rushes to India every time he suffers political indigestion? He has none. He nails his own sovereignty-claim coffin when he says ‘The establishment of a maintenance facility in Trincomalee by China contravenes the Indo-Lanka Agreement’. He’s seasoned enough to know that the true squandering of sovereignty took place the day JR signed that very agreement. Transferring that which was robbed from India to China should not upset Sampanthan because what is key is sovereignty (or its loss) and not the identity of the sovereignty-robber.

Yes, there are legitimate concerns about the Chinese footprint in Sri Lanka. That China has not interfered in political processes or armed, funded and trained terrorists like how India did is not consolation enough for anyone who wants Sri Lanka to recover independence and sovereignty. Sampanthan, however, has no right to complain.

The nice thing about writing a regular column is that one gets a lot of feedback. Well, to be honest, it is not nice when people poke fun at me, but sometimes even the not-nice stuff contains valuable insights. I received one of those nice-stinkers the other day. Here’s the gist.

Kolombians classify those around them as “English Speaking” and “Non English speaking”. Their offspring can barely manage 'enna,' giya,' or awa' but beyond that any Sinhala word would be a tongue twister. Kolombians mom spend most of their mornings in a gym toning their figures (having dropped their kids at school -- kids who are assured only of a minimum pass for Sinhala, that too with grueling effort!). They spend the rest of the day on Facebook and at flagship stores. Watching Kolombian moms at kiddie’s birthday bashes is super entertainment. They get stressed out trying to figure out how on earth the kids would pass Sinhala.

“Why can't they do away with this subject? And that literature part of it! Gosh! Such a nightmare!” they would say. Kolombian moms take great pride in the fact that their children are “awful in Sinhala.” Even if a project is assigned to them on 'paththarayaka kotas' (sections of a paper) for Parisaraya (that’s ‘Environment’ or rather ENV), Kolombian moms would dare not cut and paste Sinhala Paththara Kotas!!! NO WAY not even LAGNA PALA PALA (‘Daily Horoscopes’)!!!!

Good points, I concede, but there’s nothing here about WHY things are this way. I mean, Kolombian moms (and dads, but certainly not ammas or thaaththaas) have a legitimate cultural-political reason to take pride in their kids not knowing Sinhala. We just don’t want them to learn Sinhala (by the way this holds for Tamil too) and this is why some of us tell our kids “It’s the servants’ language”.

Look, we’ve had it good with our English-Only system. We define ourselves when we call those others ‘riff raff’, ‘rabble’ or some other derogatory name. That was we rise without any effort. The problem in learning Sinhala or Tamil is the risk. What if all of us and all Kolombians who came before us were wrong, what if those who can’t speak English were actually intelligent, or worse, far more intelligent than any of us Kolombians? You see, knowledge of the existence of just one super intelligent person who can’t speak a word of English would smash our world to pieces. We can’t risk that. Our world, our Colombo, our Kolombian future are all at stake here.

I got this other comment recently. A question, actually. I was asked why Kolombians use ‘Sinhalisms’ when they speak. That’s not Sinhala words, by the way, but Sinhala language-ways, shall we say? The example was the ‘over-use’ of the word ‘no’ at the end of sentences. ‘That’s just the English transliteration (and not translation) of the Sinhala “ne” isn’t it?’

It’s simple. A dash of the ‘ethnic’ gives flavor but don’t take away the core taste of language and culture. Now if we went the whole hog and the Sinhalisms outweighed our English, we won’t be speaking English and we won’t be Kolombians, would we? We use Sinhalisms in our speech and in our writing but you will not catch us putting together 10 Sinhala words in a sentence and come out with any coherence. That’s would be suicidal. Someone might say ‘you just can’t’. Well, not only are we unable to do so, we will not do so and we go out of our way not to be able to do so. It’s called cultural preservation.

And have you noticed that we don’t say “no” but prefer to say “na” when we do the transliteration thing? That’s sexy. That’s what we are about. We appropriate and enrich, but we will not let what we rob replace what we have or change who we are. No way! We are far more intelligent na?

And we have ways and means of putting down any upstart non-English speaker or someone who speaks excellent Sinhala or Tamil and speaks English as fluently, especially if they happen to show any sign of possessing an intellect. We call them ‘native intellectuals’. We define them into a corner. ‘Native’ is less(er) than ‘international’. It’s an adjective that implies a subset and by the very fact disqualifies the thus-defined from claiming the whole.

So don’t chide us for not being conversant in Sinhala or Tamil. It’s not just a matter of pride for us. It is about being who we are and doing our best to ensure that our kids maintain our strong traditions. We need to feel good about ourselves. English is an important part of feeling good. Now who would want to ruin a good thing?

Other articles in this series:

The Bourse is ours!

You name it, Kolombians own it

We shall not be re-named
Get off my walkway!
Thank you Mahinda for the Avacado Prawns!

*Everyone takes note. Some keep notes. Some in diaries and journals. Some in their minds and hears. Some of these are shared via email or on Facebook or blog; some are not. Among these people are Kolombians, people from Colombo who know much -- so much that they are wont to think that others don't know and can't think. This is the sixth in a series published in 'The Nation' under the title 'Notes of an Unrepentant Kolombian'.

There are governments and each of them has an Opposition. There are strong governments and weak ones. Likewise, the Opposition is sometimes strong and sometimes weak. Very weak. Regardless of relative strengths, it can safely be said that they need each other. They need each other not for the text-book reason of critique being a necessary part of streamlining things for the common good of all. They need each other to yell at because if you are not good at what you the next best thing is to criticize someone else. It happens everywhere.

Parliament is not immune to this phenomenon. They yell at each other in Parliament and outside it they yell about each other.

Politicians and political parties are voted in and out of office. You are in Government today and tomorrow you are in the Opposition and vice versa. Today you are stating and defending policy and tomorrow you are criticizing it. Part of the game.

Two things don’t change, though. The names. There is ‘Government’ and there is ‘Opposition’. In a parallel universe these two met up for chat over coffee at a restaurant called ‘Presidential Election’. Now unlike people, these entities are serious. Unlike their human counterparts they are not given to spewing invective at one another in the House and later giggling over something that was said or comparing notes over investments in the share market.

‘I have something serious to tell you,’ Government told Opposition.

‘We are always serious, so that doesn’t surprise me. And while we are at it, I have some serious stuff to share too!’ Opposition responded.

‘You are misnamed!’ Government laid the cards on the table.

‘You are a pot and I am a kettle,’ the Opposition, surprisingly, hadn’t lost any of its humor despite gloomy times.

‘You are an insult to your name,’ Government sneered.

‘Ditto. But since you brought it up, why don’t you lay it out as thick as you can?’

‘Look, we have our guys all set up to contest. Your people are still fighting with each other and can’t come up with a name.’

‘All in good time. As for your guy, we know how he arranged his eligibility.’

‘All in the game, didn’t you know? People are not in this business for the people but for themselves. High time you figured that out.’

‘Ok, I will concede that, but just you wait, when we do come up with a name your guy will start shivering!’

‘When? Did you say “when”? Maybe you should add an “if” to that. A big “if”!’

‘You want “ifs”? Here’s some. IF there was a level playing field, IF there was no intimidation, IF there was no provision to orchestrate crossovers, IF there was media freedom, IF there was no tinkering with the Constitution….I can give you many, dude!’

Here’s some “ifs” for you. IF you stopped blaming me and took a good look at yourself in the mirror…IF you asked who made the constitution…IF you find where the person who made crossover possible is now and with who he is talking most..IF you stopped complaining about the media and started doing something that would be newsworthy…yes, that IF-list is also long!’

‘You can’t govern. You don’t know the meaning of transparency. You don’t know the meaning of accountability. You are misnamed,’ Opposition chose to attack from a different angle.

‘I know how to do things. There’s a constitution that some of your pals gave me. I am just using it.’

‘Abusing it, you mean?’

‘No, using it. You better read it. And once you’ve done that you could look at the Constitution of the UNP. Then you’ll understand that it’s less a problem with me than with yourself.’

‘We will worry about our problems, thank you very much.’

‘Yes, you have a lot of worrying to do, don’t you? After all, it all depends on what Mr RW says in the end. You can put any number of names into the hat but he can pick himself or if he feels he can’t win he can pick someone he knows will lose. Like he did with Sarath Fonseka in 2010.’

‘We will surprise you!’

‘I can’t wait to be surprised. It’s been a boring tenure for me because you are so predictable. I remember a time when you were far more innovative. I can’t figure out what happened to you. Maybe you’ve become lazy.’

‘Well you’ve used bucks and threats to pin me down. You think that’s fair?’

‘Not the first time I’ve done that. But you always fought back. You turned things around. Maybe it’s the RW effect that’s dragging you down.’

‘Closing time,’ the proprietor of the restaurant interrupted them.

‘This is not over!’ Opposition shot a dark glance at Government.

‘Of course it is not. Give it your best shot. I need some serious competition. Right now, you are a push-over. Yeah, that’s a good name for you: Pushover’

‘Thug!’

‘Now, now gentlemen, take your fight elsewhere!’ the proprietor said as he closed up.

This is the eighth in a series of articles on rebels and rebellion written for the FREE section of 'The Nation'. 'FREE' is dedicated to youth and youthfulness.

A hero is someone who does something totally unexpected, something that no one even imagines of doing and something that can even cost the person his life. Some heroes live to tell the tale but often only after they have lost a limb or two or their eyesight or hearing. Most perish. Heroes and heroism are remembered long after the battle is either won or lost. Heroes and heroism inspire other to be brave; they nurture in the rebel the quality called ‘sacrifice’. For the greater good, of course.

History is full of acts of heroism. Indeed, heroism can be said to have changed the course of history. Then there are heroic acts which take our breath away, make us believe that yes, indeed, the course of history has been changed. It is much later that we find out that no, nothing much has changed.

Think ‘Tank Man’. That’s the young man who stood defiantly in front of a line of armored cars in China the occupation of Tiananmen Square. ‘The Tank Man’ (his identity is yet to be established as is his fate), young, frail and determined stopped the advance of the tanks. Back then in 1989 the term ‘going viral’ didn’t exist but that’s what happened to the picture of the Tank Man facing the tanks. It is widely considered one of the iconic images of the 20^th Century. He stopped those tanks on June 5, 1989. A week later it was all over. Hundreds were killed. Some say around 200 and other say 800. We are left with a photograph with heroism written all over it. That’s it.

On July 10, 1991, Lance Corporal Hasalaka Gamini gave his life to protect his fellow soldiers at Elephant Pass. This was in 1991. His act of heroism broke the LTTE siege on the Elephant Pass garrison. In April 2000 Elephant Pass was captured by the LTTE. It is hard to predict certain things. That’s why it is hard to figure out a heroism-nekatha or an auspicious time to be a hero. This is why rebels talk of heroes, put up their posters in their rooms, use heroic images as ‘wall paper’ and celebrate them in one way or another. Nothing wrong in that. After all we won’t be saying ‘futile’ if the Tank Man’s defiance triggered something that ended in the rout of the Chinese Communist Party would we?

It is that uncertainty that makes heroic moment romantic. If the heroic coin has romance inscribed on one side, on the other it is marked ‘gamble’. So you win some, you lose some. In the clash of arms, the thunder of gunfire, the screams of the maimed and dying, some calculations just cannot be made.

In general, then, the rebel can certainly fantasize about heroic moments but dwelling too much on such things would be over-indulgent and distracting. You can’t stop a gushing river by tossing a stick into the flowing water. There are waves that are too powerful to resist by digging feet into sand. There’s a time to stand ground. There’s a time to step aside. One does not wait or plan for the heroic moment. It comes and it comes only to those who privilege the mind over heart but not at the cost of burying the heart and love forever. Heroism is irrational. And yet it works. It hangs on a sliver of the overall rebelling logic and is not resident at the core of engagement. It is not revolutionary to bet on it.

But keep heart because however the low the odds are that heroism will result in gaining significant ground, keeping heart means love hasn’t perished. When heart and love die, there’s no point rebelling. That’s another story of course.

Other articles in this series:

Dear Rebel, 'P' is also for 'Proportion'

Dear Rebel, have you got the e-factor out of the way?

Have you carefully considered the f-word?

It is so easy to name the enemy, right?

The p-word cuts both ways

Cards get reflected in eyes, did you know?

It's all about timing

Many believe that the world is made of secrets. One reason for this is that we are not born knowing everything. There’s so much we don’t know. The moment we recognize this, we start getting curious.

We want to know stuff. We want to know the names of things we encounter for the first time. We want to know what’s special about these things. We want to know why water flows downwards, what keeps stars from falling, why the moon changes its shape every night, what moves the clouds, why ants ‘kiss’ and so on. Some questions are answered for us and some answers we figure out on our own. We never stop. Curiosity is a constant companion throughout our lives. Questions find ways of getting into our heads.

Maybe it is this knowledge that there’s so much out there we don’t know about that makes us believe in fairies, angels, miracles, genie-lamps and kisses that turn frogs into princes and princesses. We read about these things and we want to know if it’s all true. We read about secret passages, mysterious caves, rocks that move when we whisper a password in a language we have never heard and mirrors that take us to strange lands. We look for them. We see or enter an old house and we immediately wonder what secrets it holds.

The truth is that there are many secret passages in the houses we live in, the places we visit and the gardens we wander around. They are not like anything we read about in books or see in movies though.

I know a father whose daughters insisted that he relate ‘a new story’ at bedtime every night. This was in addition to reading one or two of their favorite stories. Both wanted a new story, so he had to come up with two. The younger one had just wanted to be on par with the sister so all he had to do was to think up some characters with names and make up a short story which ended with a ‘happily ever after’. It would take all of one minute. The older one wasn’t satisfied with that. Names weren’t enough. The characters had to have important roles to play. The story had to be interesting and not like anything she had heard or read before. The younger one, with time caught up with her sister.

‘I want a loooooong story. It can’t be an old story. Everyone has to be new. And you can’t send people on a loooong journey just to make the story seem to be long,’ she said.

After a few days the father’s imagination failed him. He couldn’t think of new stories or new characters. He desperately wanted to be a good father and make sure his little girls went to bed happy. He thought of what he found most interesting as a child. He remembered libraries and book shelves. He remembered old books which smelled strange and mysterious. He didn’t think his daughters would be interested.

Then he thought of books. Story books. Picture-stories. Encyclopedias. So he made it rain.

‘It was a rainy day. Actually it had rained for three days in a row. Our little friends, Lady Bug-Bug and Lady Bug-Bee couldn’t go out and play. They had spent two whole days exploring the house. They hadn’t found any secret passages. There was only the “Book Room”. Boring. They had nothing to do so in desperation they went into the “Book Room”. All the books were either old or big. They couldn’t find any picture-stories.

‘”Maybe there’s a secret chamber inside one of the big books,” Lady Bug-Bug said, remembering a story where someone hid a precious ring inside a small space created by carefully cutting up the center of about 50 pages.

‘”That’s only in story books!’ Lady Bug-Bee said and added, ‘It is not nice to cut up books!’

‘They decided it won’t hurt to look. So they picked up the biggest book. An encyclopedia. They opened it to a random page. It was a page that had a picture of glaziers. They had never seen one and they were amazed. Immediately they found themselves in another world. A world of glaziers. It was cold but they found they were wearing warm clothing and covered from head to toe.’

And so, this father found that he could take the two characters to any country he liked and get them to talk about things they saw, the people they met, the customs and traditions that amazed them and create some situation which they wanted to escape from. Back to the library and familiar surroundings.

So there’s nothing wrong in looking for secret passages and mysterious caves. But while you wait for miracles, you could pick up a random book and if you are amazed by what you see and read, you can go to amazing people and meet amazing people. There’s a secret passage close to you. It won’t harm to explore.

* This is the eighth article in a series I am writing for the JEANS section of 'The Nation'. The series is for children, adults consider yourselves warned! :)

Other articles in this series

How would you paint the sky?
It is cool to slosh around
You can compose your own music
Pebbles are amazing things
You can fly if you want to
The happiest days of our lives
So what do you want to do with the rain?

Former Editor, Silumuna, Karunadasa Suriyarachchi (better known by his byline 'Kasuri') passed on recently. This is a review of a collection of his widely read column in the Irida Divaina, 'Kasurige Kolama' written ten years ago and published in the Sunday Island of April 18, 2004. Posting by way of tribute to his skill as a writer.

Kasurige Kolama, by Karunadasa Suriyarachchi, author publication, 229 pp. Rs. 250.00.

Reviewed by Malinda Seneviratne

I know people who buy the Irida Divaina just to read Harith Gunawardena’s "King Barnet" column and/or Karunadasa Suriyarachchi’s "Kasurige Kolama" (Kasuri’s Column). I know others who use these particular columns as kinds of entry points to the paper in general. Always entertaining, always touching on something that has currency, these pieces have a way of preparing the reader for the more serious analyses found elsewhere by sharpening perceptions and alerting him/her to the subtext of a given political reading. Indeed, the Irida Divaina is privileged to have two competent exponents of the art of political satire.

Yes, Kasuri’s Kolama has earned him a wide readership over the years. All his contributions are light enough to make even those who thrive on and demand "serious" political analysis smile. They also educate. Both the reader and the subject of his wit, if he/she has the humility and good sense not to be insulted. Neat juxtaposition, satirical ballooning and snide commentary, these are the main tools of the satirist and Kasuri employs them to good effect. He has, over the years, developed a certain finesse in his scathing attacks on event and personality, achieving a good balance between critique and humour. This is what makes him eminently readable and politically potent.

I can’t remember the name of the poet, but I remember this line very well: "My poetry is like the bread of Egypt; night passes over it and you can eat it no more". This is something that the political satirist knows well. Let go of the moment, and it will not come back again. Not in the same way, not at the same strength. The successful satirist is one who seizes the political moment, not hard and not too loosely either. He/she holds it delicately in the fingers of his/her mind and crafts a story that simultaneously unwraps the political, sheds it of grandeur and rhetoric. At the end of the exercise, the subject is left naked, stripped of all disguise. Anything less and the column falls flat on its face.

I believe anyone with a modicum of political awareness and a generous dash of creativity can be satirical. Your random man in the street is an excellent satirist. What separates the occasional joker from the consummate wit, I believe, is the ability to be consistently creative and to be able to pick the right topic at the right time. Kasuri, in this respect, stands above the crowd.

A collection of his contributions stands well in any library, no doubt. The problem with such a gathering however is that a political column of this sort is dated. Like the bread of Egypt. While there are timeless gems, these are always rare, which is after all why they are valuable. In general, Kasuri’s "Kolama" has to be read then and there. When next week comes along, it is old. It is weak. Not his fault, it is but the congenital disease of the genre. Dies a quick death. A book, therefore, is always feeble. Not everyone remembers the context. The tone and colour of the statement the columnist takes apart has suffered inevitable fading. The reader is as a result unable to appreciate fully the writer’s creativity and wit.

Still, this is not to say that one is left incapable of grasping something of the author’s mind and its workings. The things he/she likes, dislikes, finds repugnant, humorous and preposterous, can be obtained, if only in fragment. The column has always been a quick read, and so is the book. For those who are familiar with the column, it comes with the promise of great entertainment. Kasuri doesn’t fail you. He gives you familiar personalities in the grotesque versions they themselves reveal. He gives you familiar events that make us realise what kind of suckers we all are.

A long time ago, a friend of mine took issue with Kasuri’s "Kolama". He admitted that Kasuri makes us laugh but complained that his ultimate effect is to lessen our sorrow (duka thunee karana eka) and thereby immunize us to accepting tyranny. "Kasuri apata uththarayak denne na"(Kasuri does not provide us with an answer), he said. Does he have to? Aren’t we all thinking people? If the satirist shows us fault lines, can’t we use our strength to prise them open? Must the satirist do everything? I firmly believe people should do what they are good at. If everyone did it, the totality proceeds along beneficial directions. Kasuri does his part. To the best of his ability. He makes us laugh. That itself is a positive.

Early days. Remember that. Keep in mind also that in a 40-day run each day counts and that ‘early’ can quickly bleed into ‘late’ and ‘too late’. That said, let’s consider Maithripala Sirisena’s press conference on Friday November 20, 2014 where he announced he would be the ‘common candidate’ of the Opposition.

‘මෛත්‍රී පාලනයක්’ [‘Maithree Paalanayak,’ meaning ‘Compassionate Governance’]. What a wonderful signature for a campaign! Pithy. Easy on the tongue. Captures the entire thrust of the project. Contrasts itself from what the principal opponent is identified with. Brilliant.

The candidate is not without credentials. A long-time party loyalist who enjoys considerable support from the Sri Lanka Freedom Party, Maithripala Sirisena has more appeal from a wider cross section of the voting population than the other contenders, Karu Jayasuriya, Ranil Wickremesinghe and Sajith Premadasa (in that order). The opening remarks, prefaced by a Dhammapada quote, struck the right note. There was sobriety. There was humility. There was purpose. He sounded presidential. Then it all went downhill.

It didn’t help that he was flanked by two discredited politicians. Chandrika Kumaratunga, Victor Ivan will remember, earned the sobriquet චෞර රැජින (The Queen of Deceit). In eleven years, she not only deceived, but presided over violations not second to any she charges the Mahinda Rajapaksa regime with, not to mention a sorry track record with regard to handling the scourge of terrorism. Rajitha Senaratne is hardly a heavyweight any more. Still, it was the ‘Maithree Moment’ and naturally the cameras didn’t pan to those two has-beens.

All he needed to do was thank those who made his candidacy possible, outline his objectives and leave. He tried to do more and ended up doing less. The biggest blunder was to pledge the Prime Minister’s post to Ranil Wickremesinghe. Unnecessary. Distracting. And anyway, if it was all about dishing out jobs in a post-Mahinda Sri Lanka, why make such a song and dance about it?

In essence, Maithripala was saying something like this: ‘Ranil can’t beat Mahinda. I have a better shot. I will win, step down and hand over executive power to Ranil’. Now if this was a project to promote Ranil, then the question is, ‘Why on earth is Ranil not contesting?’ Maithripala seeks to win a mandate to rule from the people. It is not a transferable asset. If democracy underlines this project (as he claims), then it would go against the basic tenets of the idea. The UNP, let us not forget, is a party that couldn’t come up with a credible candidate. Not in 2010 and not in 2014/15. Rewarding the leader of such a party is කඩේ යෑම (shopping, or acting like a domestic aide who does someone’s bidding) to use a Sinhala term that has a lot of political currency. It is as though the වලව්වේ හාමුදුරුවෝ (Lord of the Manor) is getting a village boy to pluck some coconuts which he, the Lord, will then sell and deposit the money in a bank.

He could have elaborated on the notion of an interim arrangement or a ‘national government’ that presides over constitutional reform and thereafter seek fresh mandate through a General Election. Instead, he reduced what is essentially a regime-changing exercise into an individual’s political project. He dwarfed himself. And his dwarfing got worse when Chandrika had her say. Hers was an unqualified lament of the worst kind. There was no මෛත්‍රී there. There was වෛරය (hatred) and clear revenge-intent. Hardly the stuff that could bowl the electorate over.

Now contrast this with an alternative head table composition where the candidate is flanked by Anura Kumara Dissanayake (JVP), either Champika Ranawaka or Ven Athureliye Rathana Thero (JHU), Ranil and/or Karu Jayasuriya. That’s formidable. In contrast, what was ‘on show’ on Friday was pathetic. Such a panel would indicate the forces arrayed against Mahinda Rajapaksa. What was on show was a bunch of disgruntled incompetents.

Maithripala has to look and sound presidential and he doesn’t have too much time to do so. He has to re-articulate the project in clear democratic terms where individuals and their petty political objectives are completely left out of the story. He has to drop his liabilities. It is clear that Chandrika Kumaratunga, motivated by whatever, played a crucial role in this maneuver which some people already call ‘a coup’ (a bit early for that). That’s it. Her role is over. At least in the public eye. Someone commented on Facebook, ‘each time she speaks Maithri loses 10,000 votes’. That’s exaggeration and not a substantiated claim, but that sentiment does have currency. Yes, she can address a particular voter segment. The problem is that when she addresses them, there are others listening.

Early days. He can still re-constitute his head-table, so to speak. Maithripala likened Ven Athureliye Rathana Thero to Kudapola Hamuduruwo, acknowledging the key role the thero played in the political upheavals that culminated in him being nominated as the ‘common candidate’. Now if you have Kudapola Hamuduruwo backing you, it would be plain stupid not to get the Hamuduruwo on stage.

Similarly, if he thinks an appeal to the SLFP and UNP voter in the form of clinging on to Chandrika’s sari pota and promising Ranil the premiership would do the trick, he’s sadly mistaken. Voice-cut politics won’t deliver anything. There’s a campaign to be carried out on the ground and the likes of Harsha De Silva, Eran Wickramaratne and Rosie Senanayake will not do it. Maithripala needs active JVP support (meaning, not the lukewarm hurrahs that party gave Sarath Fonseka).

You can have 50 MPs crossing over, but unless they become campaign foot soldiers, that’s just 50 votes you are assured of. A general sway on the ground will not necessarily follow these political defections. Hard, tough, persistent campaigning at the grassroots is non-negotiable. And here the JVP will be a significant factor. Remember, also, that it would be wrong to ‘use’ the JVP. They must have a central role in the campaign and they must have prominence in the post-election phase in the event that Maithripala wins. You can’t promise Ranil the premiership, Chandrika her pound of flesh and toss some crumbs the JVP way.

Maithripala Sirisena has a case. There is widespread disappointment and even objection to the regime. It’s not about Mahinda Rajapaksa alone. He is liked. Widely. Despite his faults. It is not about the Rajapaksas alone. Gotabaya and Basil may be resented by senior members of the SLFP, less for wrongdoing than for what they effectively deny. Few would deny that they work really hard. It is the Rajapaksavarun (let’s say ‘the Rajapaksa hangers-on’) that are mostly resented. ‘Intensely’ would be the correct word. There are not necessarily blood relatives. It’s the Mervins, Sajins, Dumindas, Rohitha and the countless thugs and thieves in Parliament, Provincial Councils and Local Government Authorities that are insufferable.

‘What is the President’s greatest strength and what is his biggest weakness?’ is a question to which a retired soldier who now works as a driver and who even today says he will give his life to Mahinda Rajapaksa responded as follows: ‘ලෙන්ගතු කම. හොරු ටිකක් වටකර ගෙන ඉන්න එක’ (his affability or warmth and the fact that he has surrounded himself with rogues). On Friday night, one of these worthies shot at a political opponent. That’s not a ‘first’. It is just one of countless examples of thuggery to which the President has for whatever reason turned a blind eye and thereby creating, reinforcing and perpetuating a culture of impunity.

That said, incumbency, gratitude for defeating terrorism (which Maithripala himself acknowledged) and sheer personal charm, not to mention all the usual tweak-n-abuse we see at election time, makes Mahinda a tough candidate to defeat. Maithripala cannot afford to dwarf himself (vis-à-vis Ranil and Chandrika). He has to understand that the President has almost full control of the state and private media. In fact, Maithripala has to see himself as the Mahinda Rajapaksa of 2005 and of course see his opponent as the Ranil Wickremesinghe of that same election. Mahinda won. Barely. He did so because all the money that Ranil could pour into his campaign was effectively countered by the one asset that Maithri can secure: the people. Mahinda could do this because of the JVP. Numbers. Active. Spirit. He could do that because he had in the JHU someone who could write his manifesto (Champika Ranawaka). Mahinda had Wimal, but that was a different Wimal.

‘Early days’, true. They can fast turn into ‘too late’. If that happens, Maithripala would be another Sarath Fonseka. Ranil would remain Leader of the UNP. A winner all the way.

After weeks of speculation the Opposition has come up with a name. A solid one too. Maithripala Sirisena. It’s a name calculated to split the major partner of the ruling coalition, i.e. the Sri Lanka Freedom Party (SLFP). Some MPs have already crossed over. Other defections are on the cards. It is a time of speculation, of risks and of calculations.

It boils down to ‘winnability’. In an ‘iffy’ situation the risk is naturally greater. The ruling coalition will not twiddle thumbs. The initial surprise and of course dismay will soon shift to closing of ranks, damage control and eventually counter-punch; the last literally as well, if the antics of a UPFA strong-man in Kalutara on Friday (immediately after Maithripala announced his candidacy) are anything to go by.

Already sweet sounding terms such as good governance, democracy, rule of law, constitutional change, abolishing of the executive presidency etc., are sounding hollow as people unable to contain individual ambition talk of ‘high posts’ in a post-Mahinda scenario. Maithripala’s first press conference as candidate lost a lot of gloss when it became as much a candidacy announcement as it was a blueprint regarding Ranil Wickremesinghe’s political future (read 'Maithripala: King in Waiting or Ranil's Pawn'). It was also, as Dayan Jayatilleka argues well in an article titled ‘The Sirisena surge and why Mahinda is still way ahead,’ about Rajitha Senaratne unrolling his political autobiography and Chandrika Kumaratunga’s ‘prolonged and self-justificatory lamentation’.

Early setbacks notwithstanding the coming weeks will see intense politicking by both parties and their respective backers because everyone involved has much to win and a lot of lose. It’s investment time, clearly. The problem is that if you just count Parliament, there can only be 224 ministers. People can speculate of course, but people must understand that there will be hundreds of others who will also be calculating.

It is in this context that it makes sense for politicians at lower levels (provincial councils for example) to think money instead of position. The going rate for a provincial councilor is said to have moved up from Rs 10 million to Rs 25-35 million. Rest assured, those ‘on offer’ will be going the way of the highest bidder. It goes without saying that those who are ready to bribe will not be averse to take bribes in return. This being the case, we can take the democracy rhetoric out of the equation. It is not about lofty ideas. It’s about personal glory. Perks. Frills. Tidbits. As has always been the case, one might add.

Those in power will not let go. Those out of power want it badly. The voter has to choose between such persons. Track records will come into play. Personalities too. Friends of each candidate will be looked at closely. What is promised will be considered. Gratitude will come into play. Punishment for wrongs done will also be factored in. The crimes and virtues of coalition partners will not be forgotten. There will be talk of devils, known and unknown. Some will weigh the virtues of political stability against the need to correct flawed structures. ‘Doability’ will be assessed. All this in the coming weeks.

And there will be those who will try to convince, cajole, trick, intimidate and cheat the voter. And there will be those who will be suckered into voting for those who promise the undeliverable, those who auction non-existing resources and those who promise heaven over hell or heaven over a would-be hell as the case may be.

It is an exciting time, no doubt. All the more reason to be alert. Politicians, after all, are made of promises. This is the month of the voter. Let the voter strive to be a hard purchase.

The Jathika Hela Urumaya (JHU) made a decision. The party decided that those who hold various positions in the government will resign forthwith. The party further decided that it will remain in Parliament as part of the ruling UPFA coalition. The party reserved the right to decide on a course of action in the event a presidential election is called, whether in such circumstances it would field its own candidate or support a ‘common opposition candidate’.

The JHU made this move without a presidential election being called. It did so before the Opposition came up with a ‘common candidate’. As such it is a preemptive move as much as it is anything else. How did they arrive at this juncture? Well, IN A PARALLEL UNIVERSE they would divulge stuff. Here’s what a pre-announcement conversation might have been like.

‘We cannot support Mahinda this time,’ Ven Athureliye Rathana thundered.

‘Yes, you’ve said that many times, ape haamuduruwane,’ Udaya Gammanpila observed. He added, ‘In fact you have with your caustic statements which have not been sanctioned by the party, trapped us into a process we can’t turn back from!’

‘You tell me, Udaya, on what grounds we can support a Government and a President that has failed to deliver on promises made on two occasions. This time also they have promised. We would look fools if we believed them. So even if I was silent this is what we would have to do,’ Ven Rathana Thero defended himself.

‘What’s happened has happened. We have to look ahead,’ Ven Omalpe Sobitha Thero wanted to infuse some sobriety to proceedings.

‘Ok. Let’s recap. There is talk of a presidential election but it has not been announced. The Opposition seems confused and unable to come up with a name that is acceptable to all stakeholders. There’s no guarantee that the candidate they pick would be someone we can support. If it is Ranil, then we can either boycott or field our own candidate. If it is Karu, we could consider supporting him. If it is…’ Champika Ranawaka wasn’t allowed to finish the sentence.

‘There’s no one else worth considering,’ Nishantha Sri Warnasinghe said.

‘Correct,’ Champika continued. ‘There are too many factors that are out of our control in this equation, I feel.’

‘Exactly! That’s why we should not bother about those other factors,’ Ven Rathana Thero showed agitation and excitement quite at odds with the content of his bana deshana.

‘That’s easy to say. We have to think about our political future,’ Udaya said.

‘Your political future?’ Nishantha asked with a sly grin.

‘No, no, no. The party’s political future. The future of the Sinhala Buddhist nationalist movement. Our ideology, out party constitution,’ Udaya quickly pressed his ‘political correctness’ button.

‘The truth is we have no choice now. True, we really didn’t expect the SLFP to jump up in joy about our proposals. We know Basil, Dullas and others well enough to know what they want and how they calculate. It was a proposal they just could not accept at this point. The truth is we didn’t have a choice when we submitted the proposals either and that’s not because Rathana Haamuduruwo’s Pivithuru Hetak operations. Anyway, now we have to make something out of this,’ Champika said.

And so they went into a long huddle. And decided to call a press conference to announce the decision of the party.

Late that night, ‘the team’ met up again at the Sadaham Sevana to assess the outcome.

Everyone seemed to be in a good mood.

‘We ended up positioning ourselves ahead of the Opposition,’ Champika observed.

‘Early days, though,’ as always Ven Omalpe Sobitha Thero’s was the voice of reason and calmness.

‘I think Mahinda must be pleased,’ Udaya was going with “may all beings be happy,” one would think. “After all, by taking a stand we are showing up the Opposition. Their indecision and confusion seems even bigger now. Therefore the gap between Mahinda and Whoever has expanded.’

‘But that makes us and our decision non-factors if there’s a presidential election, right?’ Nishantha was curious.

‘Well, we don’t really hate Mahinda, do we? We just don’t like him. As long as the JHU acquires new value that can translate into a better performance in a General Election, why should we worry about Mahinda being re-elected?’ Udaya argued.

‘Hmmm….’ said Champika Ranawaka softly.

‘We have only started!’ Ven Rathana was not ready to do a sit-back-watch.

‘We started a long time ago and we have quite a long way to go,’ Ven Omalpe Sobitha Thero said quietly.

Other articles in this series:

The Bourse is ours!

You name it, Kolombians own it

We shall not be re-named
Get off my walkway!
Thank you Mahinda for the Avacado Prawns!

English is a feel-good thing na?
*Everyone takes note. Some keep notes. Some in diaries and journals. Some in their minds and hears. Some of these are shared via email or on Facebook or blog; some are not. Among these people are Kolombians, people from Colombo who know much -- so much that they are wont to think that others don't know and can't think. This is the sixth in a series published in 'The Nation' under the title 'Notes of an Unrepentant Kolombian'.

One person is not a front. Sometimes a single person can make a big difference, but if you want radical social transformation that (hopefully) lasts, you will need some pals. The problem is that when you do need people, they are not there or they are not ready to ‘take the streets’. Issues have a way of arriving when we least expect them. Therefore it is not easy to anticipate and plan when it comes to objection and protest. You turn around and you find yourself alone.

So what do we do? We post a protest-notice as an ‘event’ on Facebook, email, share, invite, tweet the works. There’s a lot of cheering. A lot of ‘likes’ and ‘shares’. A lot of people will say ‘I will be there’. As you get closer to the event you get some comments such as ‘I will be there in spirit’. Come event and you wonder what happened to the cheering squad.

When conditions mature towards what could be called ‘a revolutionary moment,’ friends become comrades, association based on similar likes and dislikes turns into association marked by shared political believes and ideological preferences. But ‘revolutionary moment’ is something that takes years to mature. Only very few would design their lives in anticipation of such a moment. In general people not only have multiple personalities but have multiple interests, politics and ‘rebelling’ being just a couple of aspects among dozens of ‘concerns’. So how do you ‘recruit’?

There’s no easy answer. And there’s no ‘perfect answer’ either. But there’s something people tend to forget. In politics, what really, really counts is often assumed to be shared believes or rather similar outcome preference, and ideological agreement. Something that is often discounted is the fact that people join people, people stand with other people, not just on account of political loyalties but rather personal friendship. You like someone, trust him/her, believe him/her to be a good person, and you are more likely to stand with him/her. If you don’t like someone, similarly, you might be reluctant to join him/her in a demonstration even if you were in agreement with the relevant politics.

Of course this is not to say that people don’t factor in their own political preferences when deciding to join others. They do. Saying ‘comrade’ is not the same as ‘feeling’ comrade. People will follow and stand by those who think they way they do, but when it comes to crunch point, that place where the faint-hearted pause or second-guess themselves, that’s when both leader and the led are tested. That’s when courage comes into play. And that’s when the heart of the leader gets factored in. He or she is followed not just because he or she is thought to be doing the right thing but because he or she is seen as a good person, a person of heart and a person who deserves to be supported.

In the late eighties, not all students, including those who considered themselves ‘radical’, supported the student movement, which was essentially an arm (a pawn?) of the Janatha Vimukthi Peramuna. And yet, even those who ideologically opposed the student movement would on occasion march with the leaders or join in some awareness-creating campaign. Why? People the particular leader making the request was considered to be honest, good and even ‘pure’.

It is not something that’s easy to cultivate and it would sound silly to cultivate goodness or heart just to help along some political project that might be picked at some point. But there is virtue and profit in being good. In being honest. In being a person of word. In being generous. In being a friend regardless of the other person’s political beliefs. Most importantly, in being all these things with ‘recruitment’ being the last thing on your mind.

Then, when ‘moment’ comes and you look around, friend will find it easier to become comrade, enemy will be neutralized or at least reluctant to fight you. In the end, the world is changed for the better by good people who are prompted to go an extra mile at critical moments.

Why do people like ‘Che’? Why do people like Bob Marley? Why did people like Vijaya Kumaratunga? Why was Sarath Muttetuwegama’s untimely death lamented by people across the political spectrum? Why would you follow one person and not another?

Goodness. It counts.

There are times when we wonder if things are as they really seem. Think of something. Think of just one thing. Let’s say…hmmm…a coconut tree you can see from your window. If there’s no coconut tree, think of whatever tree you can see from your window. If there are no trees then think of whatever you can see, even if it is a blank wall.

Now here’s an exercise. Look out of the window the moment you wake up (it is better if it is before sunrise). Remember what you see. Then look again when the first light touches the world around you and of course the tree (or whatever it is) that’s outside your window. Return to your window from time to time throughout the day. Does it look the same? Are the colors the same? Check out if the shape is the same. Remember that things look and feel different when they are perfectly still and when they are moving in the wind. If it’s a light breeze the leaves will rustle but if it is stormy weather, rain and wind will make things dance.

What is the color of that thing outside your window when the sun moves over the horizon? What does it look like at dusk? Look again just before you go to bed. Same? Different? And if you happen to wake up in the middle of the night, look out of your window again.

The leaves of a giant mango tree look so different in the middle of the night. If there’s a bit of moonlight, it gives a silver edge to leaves, branches and the tree itself. If there’s only faint light because it is a cloudy night, there won’t be silver, but you will still find patterns.

Nights are about silhouettes. The leaves of the mango tree from a certain distance will look like an intricate patter in lace. The leaves of the kohomba will look like different. A different pattern in lace. A different embroidery.

Night removes depth from objects. Things merge. Roofs with treetops, bridges with buildings, houses with houses, walls and tree trunks, wires and vines. You see things in bunches. And in the bunching, there are patterns and images. There are faces and animals, dragons and gargoyles. There are angels too.

Things are not the same when the light that fall on them changes in intensity. Things are not the same when they are moved by breezes of different strengths. Things are not the same when we see them at different times.

And at night, all things change and the world seems to have been rearranged and renamed. And it is a beautiful thing.

* This is the ninth article in a series I am writing for the JEANS section of 'The Nation'. The series is for children. Adults consider yourselves warned...you might re-discover a child within you!

The Bourse is ours

Conversations with Sarath N Silva

When the 'boys' of '83 and '89 turned on the freshness

It is cool to slosh around

Rohana Wijeweera’s fading political signature

Dear Rebel, P is (also) for Proportion

Some run, some walk, some crawl and some stand still

Sampanthan’s non-aligned bluff

English is a feel-good thing na?*

Name-calling is a fun game

Heroes and heroism are great but…

Still looking for that secret passage?*

"Kasurige Kolama": more than a collection of laughs

Maithripala: King in Waiting or Ranil's Pawn?

Mahinda-Maithree and the hour of the voter

The Jathika Hela Urumaya decides

Dear Percy, your Membership Card is ready*

Recruiting for a rebellion

The world is rearranged by silhouettes

The story of a puppy dog, a calf and an infant