On Tuesday, Sept. 22, a senior Cabinet minister, acting on behalf of Deputy Defence Minister Anuruddha Ratwatte, tabled in parliament a document giving the Supplementary Estimates for the Ministry of Defence.

The total that Minister Ratwatte is asking parliament, over and above the Rs. 44 billion, which was approved last December in the 1998 budget, is a staggering Rs. 12.2 billion!

This brings the Defence budget in 1998 to an all time high of Rs. 56.2 billion, a far cry from Deputy Finance Minister G.L. Peiris' promise that expenditure on the war would be lower than last year's Rs. 47 billion.

As a responsible national newspaper with a decade and half of service to the nation, we feel it is time that someone serious questioned the progress of the war this year, and asked what this huge amount of money has been spent on.

As far as we can see, judging from what the Defence Ministry tells us in its daily communiquŽs, troops of Operation Jaya Sikuru are in almost the exact place that they were in January. No towns have been captured since then, and no territory that we know of.

No other operations have been conducted in the country, which have actually gained significant amounts of land area from the Tigers, or captured towns from them.

So why is the defence budget at an all time high?

Up to this year, there had been significant gains in territory, towns and villages, since the LTTE went back to war in 1995.

In 1995, the Valikamam region of the Jaffna Peninsula, which included Jaffna town, was liberated by the armed forces.

In 1996, the rest of the Jaffna Peninsula was taken, with dozens of towns and villages, including Chavakachcheri, coming under government control. In addition, soldiers began moving south from Elephant Pass that same year, taking the key towns of Paranthan and Kilinochchi, which included a significant land area.

Last year, the gains were even more impressive. First there was the operation which cleared the Mannar road, effectively throwing the Tigers out of the vast jungle area of the Wilpattu National Park, gaining one of Sri Lanka's major roads, with all the small towns that are on the route. Then there was the launch of Jaya Sikuru, with troops making steady progress up the road and taking such towns as Puliyankulam.

Every year, we could measure the progress of the war, in towns and land area recaptured. But not this year.

Granted, the year is not yet over. But why do we get the feeling that 1998 will be the worst year since Eelam War III began? In January, the army was knocking on the door of Mankulam, confident that it had taken two thirds of the road to Jaffna, and that the Tigers were weakened enough for the troops to rapidly capture the rest. Promises were being made of lorries filled with essential goods and building materials flowing to Jaffna, while civilians streamed south. Plans were already being drawn up for who should be in the first lorry across, with Rupavahini cameras telecasting it all live like a cricket match.

But according to the Defence Ministry, troops are still knocking on the door at Mankulam. And knocking, and knocking, and knocking, · A look at the number of combatants killed, on both sides, also tells a strange story. Censorship forbids us from giving exact figures, but the number of soldiers killed is less this year is lower than in 1995, 1996, or 1997. The same goes for the number of wounded. In the same way, the number of LTTE cadres that the armed forces have claimed to have killed this year is the lowest in Eelam War II.

The LTTE's claims also back this up. Tiger claims of the number of soldiers killed and wounded, and the number of its own cadres killed and wounded, is the lowest since April 1995. So where has all the money gone? Salaries and other benefits of the armed forces have not increased significantly from last year to this year. Salaries form only a small part of the defence budget. This was always the case. In addition, the army didn't have any camps overrun and armories looted like in previous years. The navy didn't lose any ships, and the air force lost only a few aircraft when compared to the previous three years.

So there wasn't much equipment that the armed forces needed to replace. So where did all the money go? We could tell our readers the answer to this question. But this is likely to land the staff of Upali Newspapers in a remand jail or worse, since the censorship prohibits us from speaking on such matters.

Meanwhile, it is pertinent to ask the question of how well the economy can bare the weight of this huge cost. For starters, economic growth is down very significantly. Ask any economist about growth these days, and they all hang their heads in despair. This includes the pundits at the BOI and the Central Bank who measure these things in tangible numbers. Attempts to streamline other government spending haven't got very far this year.

Remember, the government needs to find money to offset the increase since last year. In other words, it needs to do better in this department than it did last year. This clearly is not happening.

Meanwhile, there appears to be a curious apathy on the part of the government regarding clear wastage's of money, with little or no action being taken against the offenders. Last Saturday's disaster in the port of Colombo is a clear example. The port is going to lose millions of rupees due to large parts of the state of the art Jaye Container Terminal, which is the most modern area of the harbor, being shut down due to the sinking of a container ship there, and the efforts to salvage it, which will take at least a month.

Yet, up to now, no one in the government has chastised anyone for this ghastly mistake. Frivolous excuses such as ``only 150 meters of the terminal have been rendered non-operational'' have been trotted out with gay abandon. The larger ramifications on the economy are not being shown to the public. No one in the Sri Lanka Ports Authority has even thought of resigning, and mark our words, no one will. The ships, they are a-sinking, but it's a clear case of ``Navver gilunath baan choon.''

Earlier this month, this column showed in clear detail how badly the economy is doing, and its struggle to sustain the war effort. That situation has now got worse, with the increase in defence spending, and the debacle in the port.

Yet, Ministers such as Ratwatte and Peiris continue to spout their rubbish about ending the war soon, and spending all that money on development. Do they really believe that the public, hit by increased taxes like the wonderful GST, will buy this?

Minister Peiris has repeatedly spoken of lowering the budget deficit, which has the direct effect of increasing development and lowering the hardships of the people. But at every budget speech, he turns around and very apologetically tells us that the increase in defence spending has wrecked his plans for the deficit, and that the country will have to bear with this for another year. I'm sure we'll hear the same thing again, when November comes. Meanwhile, how is Peiris going to make up the shortfall? Where is he going to raise 12 billion rupees? Whether it's by increasing taxes or borrowing from banks, the public has to pay.

Enough is enough. Spending money on winning the war is one thing. Spending more money than ever before and ending up at the same place, namely Mankulam, is not acceptable.

It is time for the government to explain what has gone wrong with the war, and change its course in order to win it. This is not a Test cricket match, where a draw against a mighty opponent is an honorable thing. We need to win, and win it now.

Prologue
I should like to add a footnote to the revelations made in Jeyaratnam Wilson’s article appearing in “The Island” of 19th April 1998 based on my recollections of the incident involving Sir John, as it transpired at “Newlands” 26, Alfred Place, Colombo 3.

An offer rejected

As I remember Sir John was accompanied by more than one person, and I recall the phrase he kept using in re-iterating the terms he was allegedly authorised to offer, “You can have anything you want — anything.” The unfavourable reactions of his host may be gauged by the lament Sir John raised when his hostess arrived on the scene looking, as always, “all roses and lilies”. “See Mrs. Naganathan how Naththu is treating me in his own house”. It transpired that Naganathan had been a contemporary of Sir John’s in London and had been having his lunches at Mrs. Alice Kotelawala’s, who had been running house there for her 2 sons, Lionel and Justin. Naganathan was inclined to be rough in striking a negative note in regard to the on-going negotiations for reasons which we shall see below, but he was to live to rue it to his dying day, not only for himself and family, but the rest of the Tamil people as well. He chose to speak in parable to Fr. Peter Pillai concerning the “Temptations of Christ”, referring to the offers of office made to him and other F. P. members little realizing the Crucifixion which awaited them and the Tamil people in general in the Sri Lankan political context where virtue is its own reward, and penalties — not prizes, await those who turned down such opportunities.

An offer accepted
In contrast, a more lenient destiny awaited the Father of Marxism in this country, to whom a similar proposal was made in his home in 1965 by the same interested parties. In this case although initially hesitant about throwing over board his ideology and all that it stood for, his scruples were overborne by his dutiful and sensible wife. “Think of the children” was her theme. A ministry offered and accepted with the lady taking up post as Private Secretary was the turning point in the family fortunes which had reached a low ebb despite great mineral wealth inherited. So the properties got developed in Colombo 5, one member’s share of which was recently acquired for a public purpose for no less than Rs. 38 million, as reported in the papers and not contradicted. Foreign education and the launching of two sons into politics (always an expensive business) was rendered feasible.

Opposition Malaise
Both households had 5 children each, and in both cases the finances had grown precarious due to politics in perpetual Opposition, where impoverishment — not enrichment is the price exacted. The left escaped this predicament by climbing aboard the SLFP/UNP wagons and sharing the spoils of office. But the FP was debarred from the same manoeuvre by being, like the SLFP and the UNP itself a “people” or mass party and bound, therefore, to its pledges to the people — from which it could not retract, not as in the other case, a matter of a mere ideology or doctrine, easily dispensable. Hence, the pauperization of a whole generation of Tamil gentlemen espoused to the Federal cause.

In fact, the Tamil analogue of the Party’s name, “Ilankai Tamil Arasu Katchi” which loosely translates into English as the “Ceylon Tamil State Party” is very expressive of the Party’s populist base and very correctly describes its historical role. Today 50 years after the founding of the Party, the Tamil people’s nationhood and right to statehood are no longer called in question by serious people, but it was the F.P. that first articulated these truths in the political forum.

F.P.
Wilson is right. From the beginning the F.P. leadership relied on the SLFP’s word to implement the abrogated B.C. pact of July, 1957. This is the only explanation for their otherwise inexcusable attitude in the face of the options open to them. In the event they were, in the words of Sir John in another context well and truly led “up the garden path”. The incident illustrates the 2 mutually divergent character traits of the FP. The one was almost fanatical purity of personal conduct in their dealings with their own people, the Sinhala people and the Governments of the day; The other an almost pathetic innocence in judging the intentions and motivations of others in the political game. Of them it could be said “they always played the game and lost it”.

This predilection for taking people at their face value is brought out in Chelvanayakam’s last meeting with C.P. at Felix Dias’s place where he blandly (or blindly?) accepted C.P.’s undertaking of “sticking to his bargain” without any conditions or guarantees. The S.L.F.P. negotiating team however evidently agreed with the advice given by Napoleon when commenting at St. Helena on his proclamation to the people of Egypt, showing plainly his deliberate appeal to Muslim feeling curiously combined with the catchwords of the French Revolution, and admitting that it was a piece of charlatanry, “Well, in this world one has got to be a charlatan. It is the only road to success”.

It served C.P. right that the Governor-General should have “agonised” as if it was his private “Gethsamene” over calling him to form the Government for some obscure sociological reason, and instead dissolved the House thereby providing Mrs. B with her cue. He met with his desserts when she in turn gave him his marching orders soon afterwards. But these were private tragedies in no way comparable to the Nemesis that awaited the entire Tamil nation. One is reminded of the Greek saying, “Against stupidity even the Gods are powerless”. It is a consolation that the younger generation of Tamil leaders of the newer parties bearing the name “Eelam” show a much more practical, realistic and common sensical approach. In this connection we may compare the haste on the part of the late Sarojini Yogeswaran (aged 65) in taking oaths without any definite commitments as to Government funds for running her Council, with the forbearance shown by Douglas Devananda (aged 38) in with holding his horses until assured of the availability of the necessary funds.

Mass Parties
Like a thread through Wilson’s narrative runs the FP’s concern for giving the SLFP a chance to make good their late leader’s promises. More important was the axiom of never thwarting the declared wish of the Sinhala people as a whole by reaching political arrangements with any parties of the day that ran counter to such wishes. With the benefit of hindsight it is clear that the FP leadership did not consider the hung parliament of March 1960 as reflecting or representative of the Sinhala people’s wishes as a whole, which appraisal was amply vindicated by the SLFP victory of July 1960 under Mrs. B. Themselves the mass party of the other, historic nationality indigenous to the country, the FP was very sensitive to “grass roots” democratic sensibilities. They had no wish to exploit the March 1960 situation to their advantage. This is illustrated by Chelvanayakam’s “dilly-dallying” in Tellipali and his reply to his detractors that “there would be many such opportunities and there was no need for him to offer support to any of the contenders”.

Naganathan
More than perhaps Chelvanayakam the initiative in providing the Sinhala masses a further opportunity of expressing their collective will in a more stable and less confused state of mind than had prevailed at the March elections was Naganathan’s. This is the rationale of the scene at Edward Jayatilleke’s construed by Lalitha Rajapakse as “insulting” to Dudley, whereas it was simply an attempt to set the record straight as to the rumours floated by the Governor — General to the effect that the FP had given him “assurances” favourable to Dudley. To persons like Jayatilleke and Rajapakse accustomed to regarding the Tamils as a deferential lot, Naganathan’s behaviourism may have seemed “lese majeste”. But as he was a Hensman from the Sangilithoppu, and been born and raised at “Lanka Lodge”, Madras and had much of his education in Britain, besides owning an international sports profile, having played hockey under Dhayan Chan (Indian Olympic team 1924), rugger under Wakefield (St. Bart’s Hospital, London) and cricket under Pataudi (Indian Gymkhana Club), these local social inflexions cut no ice with him and he was well placed for finding his level with those who really mattered.

For instance, cheerily addressing D.S., who bestrode the political arena as a colosuus, as “Papa”, there was the episode where at an M.C.C. — All Ceylon Cricket match at the Oval D. S. unseated the person next to him in the special enclosure and calling Naganathan to sit beside him, turn round to Mrs. N. and said , “I will keep him under control here. You control him outside”. The liberties he took with D.S. and after him Mr. B. and J.R.J., none of them person to be trifled with, were interns of todays political “etiquette” unbelievable. For example, when he took his family to view “Temple Trees”, unintentionally on the same auspicious day and time that Mr. and Mrs. Senanayake were taking up residence, and formed an unofficial reception committee on the front verandah as the P.M.’s car swept into the porch, with the couple in the rear seat, D. S. with his pork-pie hat on and Mrs.. Senanayake rosy in pinkish voile, and the ayah in front with the necessary paraphernalia for the ceremony — a deliciously domestic scene with no official trappings. Mrs. Senanayake seemed a trifle disconcerted but D. S. took it in his stride and was affability itself. Those were the days of truly democratic mores, with only a single policeman on duty at the gate, and no armed escort.

The secret lay in the intuitive realization by D.S., Mr. B. and J.R.J. that there was no malice in the man. Naganathan was an open book — epitome of “transparency” which is perhaps why the Nallur voters in 1970 rejected him in favour of Arulampalam, who coming in on the Congress ticket promptly crossed over to the SLFP newly in power. His attitude towards Mrs. B. never swerved from a blend of chivalrous courtesy and avuncular affection, as Barnes Ratwatte Dissave and he had been together in the Senate and had developed a cordial friendship and understanding.

Congenitally buoyant he took in his stride the stripping at the Galle Face satyagraha, the baton that was broken on his back, and the tramplings by her minions N. Q. Dias and General Udugama at the Jaffna Kachcheri satyagraha, and the detentions at home and at Panagoda, as it was not in his nature to harbour animosities. Unlike some others who admonished her to retire from the world as a “sil matha”, one of whose heirs ironically enjoys “most favoured status” under the President, her daughter, today.

“Typical” Tamil
Taking the mickey out of the mighty was his permanent contribution towards the evolution of the self-image of the Tamil man away form the servile adulation of his “betters” which had been his stock-in-trade up to that time and the buttoned of much scurrility at his expense on the part of the Sinhala establishment. Thanks to Naganathan and his political successors among the younger generation of leaders of the new Parties with the name “Eelam” the stereotype of the Tamil man is no longer as depicted in the “Ralahamy” plays of De Lanerolle and Ludowyke, a figure of fun, with a bundle of drum-sticks in one hand, and a wad of tobacco in the other.

Finale
Sad to say and the disappointment is all the more tragic where high hopes and expectations had been entertained the record of Mrs. B. in power was the beginning of the end for the democratic path to Tamil politics. Its effect on Naganathan, personally was shattering, as all the suffering and sacrifice of the extra-Parliamentary action launched by the Party in protest was no compensation for the sense of remorse of having let the Tamil people down at this most critical juncture in the post-Independence history.

The acute racism that prevailed at that time and persists to this day in influential lay and clerical circles is perhaps incomprehensible to those who forget M. P. de Zoysa declaiming at the Accident Ward, where Mr. B. was being prepared for emergency surgery, “It is a Tamil Catholic dressed in robes who did it “till N.M. shouted him down. Of course the F.P. then and now , was everybody’s favourite scape-goat and whipping boy. This trend persisted in full force from 1958 through to 1994 and lingers on, orchestrated by powerful forces within the S.L.F.P. and the U.N.P., whether in power or in opposition. As for the S.L.F.P., can we forget the “Masala Vadai” line, and Dambassara Thero etc when “Sivagamy” became “Verina” and “Muthulakshmi” dropped the “Muthu”? Mr. N. U. Jayawardene’s sage observation that burgeoning Sinhala business was struck down by the present President’s parent’s “nationalisation” policies is complemented by Naganathan’s comment, in expression of the Tamil point of view, that “nationalisation” was “Sinhalization” in disguise, in other words, politicization of the economy, a process which under the De Silva “Unitary” Constitution of 1972 was enlarged to include the public service and, in a sense, the judiciary — of course without a referendum and without the participation of the main political party representative the North and East — from the evil effects of which we are yet to recover.

4 - Points
The FP’s 4 point demands expressed in a nutshell the whole gamut of Tamil interests when and now and there is nothing to subtract or add to it for the present purpose of expressing the “grievances” of the Tamil people, for the benefit of those self-confessed ignoramuses who still doubt the existence of such. There is a Catholicity about a programme that gave priority to the re-entrenchments of the disfranchised Tamils over even parity for Tamil with Sinhala, and in the spirit that prompted Chelvanayakam’s request of Dudley to appoint Aziz and Thondaman to Parliament (at the disturbed meeting at Jayatilleke’s).

Epilogue
It is the most damning indictment of the majoritarian democracy that has prevailed in this country since Independence that 38 years after the events described by Wilson, with 16 years of SLFP and 22 years of UNP rule, the express demands of the Tamil people as encapsulated in the FP’s 4 points, remain unresolved. Even with the most generous interpretation given to the Devolution Package, presently before the country, as subject to amendment by the Opposition, it is a moot point whether these will be realized. If not, what then? This is really the question to which the world must address its mind. To the rational objective on-looker, the present debate on devolution seems to be one aiming at no more than making Sri Lanka a successful majoritarian democracy, and where, with that in mind, the emphasis seems to be on the creation of structures rather than the actual shifting of power through federalism, consociationalism, and other options, and where the increasing politicization of the state and the role of political patronage is a threat not merely to devolution, but to democracy itself.

In this scenario the recent observations by the visiting US Ambassador to the UN, Bill Richardson and Asst. Secretary of State, Karl Inderfurth need to be taken with a big pinch of salt, unless of course they were made with tongue in cheek.

(Continued from yesterday)

But the man was known to lean heavily towards the Soviet Union and was dragging Nehru and India in that direction.

So Bandaranaike had chosen to look to the east, and even to the Soviet Union, rather than to the west, for direction and even protection. Until he became Prime Minister, all previous Governments had kept clear of the ‘Red bloc’ for a variety of reasons; a genuine fear that freedom and especially freedom of religion would be suppressed. But mostly it had been through a fear of losing the right to private property and a privileged lifestyle.

Sir John Kotelawela had pleased the Americans by a statement that he would align himself with the devil to fight the Communists, whom the contemporary Burmese Prime Minister U Nu, a gentle Buddhist had termed, "sons of bitches for distant aunts."

"What I am thinking of in foreign affairs is a state of neutrality in foreign affairs, not a static neutrality but a dynamic neutrality, or more accurately stated, Non-Alignment in international affairs," the PM continued.

"While taking a strong stand on certain principles such as unyielding opposition to any form of colonialism and the principles of Pancha Seela, the five principles, agreed upon by the twenty nine signatories to the Bandung Declaration, we will assess every international situation and crisis on its individual merits and remain free to take whatever stance we wish to take in accordance with our own sovereignty and political principles."

Once again the newspapers had declared cynically that such a policy suited the "spineless Banda" who wriggled out of trouble or a principled stand by the force of his oratory and casuistry.

"It must be emphasised that our position is not taken out of moral cowardice but out of a sense of self-respect and maturity.

"It is our intention to maintain friendship with all countries while reserving the freedom to criticise them when necessary, to bridge the gap between the power blocs and to help maintain peace in the world.

"To this end it is my hope, along with that of so many of my counterparts in this region, to weld Afro-Asian solidarity so that together we will be able to present a formidable front to the Super Powers in their own battle for supremacy. Together, our nations in this group count millions of people and vast natural and human resources. If we stand together we cannot be ignored. Indeed, we will have to be reckoned as a powerful third force.

"Together we can in mutual self-respect come out of the dark night of colonialism and emerge into the bright dawn of a brave, new future."

He said all this in conversational tones, but Raj thought: "The man cannot talk except eloquently."

He went on like this for a further half hour, and Raj wondered whether this would form part of his address to the United Nations.

"I have waited for this moment to tell the world of our aspirations. For too long we were denied this opportunity. You know for how long the Soviet Union barred our entry into the United Nations by repeating the stodgy ‘niet’ each time our application came up because of the vigorous anti-communist stance adopted by the earlier Prime Ministers.

"In the event, we were sponsored by Communist China as a reward for our trading with them in the very teeth of opposition by the United States. That incident ought to demonstrate the benefits of dynamic neutralism. Well, my good man, you have had a long day and so have I. We have but a few weeks to go to keep our date with destiny. Perhaps, when all this is over and you set down your reminiscences in your mellow years, perhaps you will record this moment."

He rose and extended his hand in a western manner, unlike the customary folding of hands in the oriental fashion.

"Goodnight," he said, giving Raj a firm handshake, "and get your hernia mended in good time."

Raj thanked him and left.

Chapter 8
Carolis Amerasinghe awoke far from refreshed. He had always been pleased with his ability to sleep soundly even during his brief afternoon siestas. He had the reputation within his family circle and among his close friends of having slept through a strong earthquake that had shaken Colombo and its environs.

He was happy about the gift of sleep. It indicated a harmony of body, mind and spirit.

He sat for some time in the verandah, still groggy with sleep, contemplating the unruly garden before him. The hedges both at the outer boundary and outside the portico were uneven and unkempt. Fallen leaves were everywhere. It disturbed his sense of order.

He was a successful and contented man though in a middling and somewhat colourless way. He was too humdrum, too addicted to routine to get anywhere near greatness. But he was happy and, had he been of a reflective nature, he would have concluded that being happy was what mattered to him.

But all this had been fouled up by that strange and unexpected visit by the chief monk of the Kelaniya temple and by all their mysterious comings and goings.

He was keenly aware that something important was under way and that it was not something pleasant, that it was something quite dangerous, and finally, that it would not do him any good whatsoever to be associated with it.

Such thoughts had troubled him all morning at the council office. And when he had returned home he had eaten a pensive and troubled lunch and taken a troubled siesta. Then, shortly after two in the afternoon, the next act of the drama began to unfold.

Once again Buddharakkita and Jayawardene arrived in the cream Opal Kapitan, both men sweating out their corpulence and tensions. Apart from bland smiles from the monk and a taciturn silence from the other, neither said anything about the purpose of the visit.

Tension was tightening Amerasinghe’s stomach and his throat became dry. Still, a blend of courtesy and fear of offending the powerful monk stopped him from asking outright what they were up to.

After fifteen minutes of such discomfort and desultory conversation Somarama, the lean monk, arrived. Shortly afterwards Inspector Newton Perera in Police uniform came in a Police car, which he sent away. The inspector had a whispered conversation with Buddharakkita and Jayawardena. Amerasinghe knew what would happen next, like the unfolding of a surrealistic dream.

Buddharakkita asked him to lend his car, yet again, to Newton Perera. Once again he acquiesced, and once again Newton left with Amerasinghe’s chauffeur.

While they were away Amerasinghe served tea and biscuits to the remaining visitors. Less small talk, more restive silence. Traffic rumbled outside. A cow munched grass noisily in the garden and a green astringent tang of fresh dung wafted towards the group.

It must have been twenty minutes later that Amerasinghe’s cream Kapitan crunched up the drive with Newton Perera in it, now after a change of costume. He was dressed in a bright, green sarong and white singlet.

What sort of charade was this? What, indeed, was going on? Amerasinghe permitted himself a frown and a puzzled smile.

The big-boned Buddharakkiita was suddenly seized with urgency.

"Apoi, it’s getting late. The sun will be setting in a little while. Hurry. Hurry."

The rest followed him to the car. By now Amerasinghe’s curiosity was like an overblown balloon. He had to know or burst.

"Where are all of you going?" he asked. Surely, thought the hapless man, if they were using his car he had a right to know.

Nor were they lacking in candour in informing him.

"We are going to Muturajawela for firing practice," Buddharakkita replied simply. "You may accompany us if you wish."

Muturajawela was an extent of paddy cultivation nearby.

Thus encouraged Amerasinghe pursued the matter, but in a politely guarded manner.

"What tools are you taking?"

"We have the necessary equipment," Buddharakkita replied in similar vein.

They waited for Amerasinghe to decide. Amerasinghe, for his part, wanted to be a far as possible from the proposed exercise.

He used his patients as an excuse, and the party left.

Just two days later Amerasinghe had an opportunity to have his curiosity completely satisfied but at the expense of much agitation of mind.

The lean monk, Somarama, had arrived at Amerasinghe’s residence, evidently by himself and by public transport.

As he was alone Amerasinghe skipped the preliminaries and asked him outright, "What was the purpose of that firing practice?"

Somarama said nothing but moved uneasily in the chair wringing his hands vigorously. Amerasinghe watched fascinated as the long fingers twisted and twirled like a coil of serpents.

"To shoot the maha eka, the Big Fellow," Somarama replied eventually, with some heat.

Amerasinghe asked the question to which he already knew the answer.

"Who is the big fellow?"

Somarama replied simply: "The Prime Minister."

Amerasinghe moved quickly to distance himself from this talk.

"If you people are conspiring such matters, then do not do it in my house. Please do not come here again."

Somarama said nothing but was obviously disturbed. He kept arranging and re-arranging the folds of his saffron robe.

Then Buddharakkita and Jayawardena arrived and seemed quite upset by the presence of Somarama.

"Let’s go, let’s go," Buddharakkita said curtly, hustled Somarama into the waiting car, this time his own, and sped off.

For a week Amerasinghe was not troubled by such visitations. He supposed they had heeded his warning.

Then, once again Buddharakkita called. This time it was a very brief and brisk visit. It was clear he had come to allay Amerasinghe’s fears.

"Don’t believe what Somarama told you," he said wiping his bald, podgy head and brow with a white handkerchief. "It is true we were thinking of such a scheme. But we have abandoned all such thoughts. Don’t breathe a word of all this to anyone."

He left without waiting for the customary civilities and cup of tea.

Amerasinghe smiled wryly. Surely I’m not a child, he told himself. What is all this nonsense? And why must they come here? And why do they tell me all this?

He was frowning again.

Chapter 9
Ossie Corea was sweating uncontrollably. He was relaxing in one of the countless social clubs that dotted the fishing town of Negombo. It could have been the suffocating heat of the evening or it could be the heat of events in which he was getting embroiled.

From his youth he had lived in the company of danger, with sudden, violent death riding beside him constantly. Sleep to him was not a path to repose but a minefield with barely concealed terror.

The creak of timber on a hot night made him spring to wakefulness and reach for the revolver under his pillow.

He had been drinking heavily. He could have bought the best whisky, but like millions of other tipplers he preferred arrack, the local brew.

A few regulars were out on the verandah trying to catch some passing breeze. Inside, in the large lounge, some were standing at a bar and talking loud while others were playing snooker or cards. The air was stagnant with the stench of stale beer, stale breath and cigarette smoke.

Ossie Corea, who sold the arrack to this club and who was treated with more than passing deference, had a special room at the back of the building for himself and his guests.

He always locked it behind him and only the proprietor could enter while the gangster was there.

He always laid his revolver on the table with the drinks. It completed him. If during these bouts he was contacted by any of his close friends, and he had a few who doted on him, who looked upon him as a patron, whose children knew him only as a benevolent and generous ‘uncle’, he would instantly sober up to attend to whatever request was made of him. For behind all this hardness and cynicism there were areas and moments of extreme tenderness and gentleness.

He was especially considerate towards the disabled and it was incredible to see this man who would not hesitate to blow, or cause to be blown, a rival or an enemy to smithereens, shepherd a blind or crippled person to safety across the road.

The short-sleeved white, black pin-striped terylene shirt was hardly the garment for an evening like this. But that was his style, exuding wealth anytime.

He was aware of what was happening. There was a plot to kill the Prime Minister. He had been asked by Inspector Newton Perera to lend one of his revolvers for the purpose.

This was more than his usual level.

But what could he do? Anytime he refused anything to the Police, his picture would be posted in every station. They could charge him for a litany of crimes.

But the idea of getting involved, of actually lending one of his own firearms for the assassination of the Prime Minister, appealed to his grandiose ambitions. He was quite content to be the man in the background. Heaven forbid that he should want open credit for it. But how else could he get such a tremendous boost to his ego?

He knew the game. Those who pulled the trigger would be the last to confess from where they got the gun. So he would be safe.

But now there was another development.

There had been a murder in a village called Kimbulapitiya, not far from his tavern at Daggona.

Because his car, the highly conspicuous green Opal Kapitan, had been seen in the vicinity of the crime about that time, he was considered a suspect.

He knew that sooner or later his house would be searched. And he did not want the police to discover his private cache of arms.

While he drank, the solution struck him. He lit a cigarette and smiled. His companions relaxed.

He would hand them all over to Newton Perera.

Where else could they be safer?

He closed his fist and admired the ring with nine precious stones adorning his black, bloated hand. He clenched and unclenched his hand, then banged it on the table. The glassware and cutlery rattled.

He poured more liquor into his glass and took a long draught from it.

Chapter 10
The knowledge of a plot, of being obliquely a conspirator, clung to Amerasinghe like dirt, like dog dirt one trampled on the street and which left its print of stench till it was scrubbed and washed away; or like the grime that adhered to the body after a long day’s work in the field, invisible till touched but ever present. Nothing, however, that a bath would not remedy and remove.

But waking and asleep, the guilty knowledge that some persons thoroughly well known to him were planning to assassinate the Prime Minister of his country, his Prime Minister in a specific way, for he had fought to have him installed with much labour and hope, that these persons had invaded the sanctity of his home and assailed the norms of hospitality by talking, by daring to articulate such dreaded thoughts to him, such knowledge caused a vein to quake in him, a vein that throbbed all the time but erupted in terror and trembling while awake and roused him from his slumbers in a wash of sweat and choking breath.

The effort to suppress these fears changed his serene nature and disordered the even routine of his life.

He stared often in distraction, failed occasionally to hear when people were addressing him directly, and gazed at people, sometimes his wife of twenty seven years and his children and the servants of his household with sightless eyes as though he was seeing them for the first time.

It was while he was attempting to quell the turmoil in the mind and staring at his desk calendar which indicated the twenty-fifth of August in his consulting room at home that he heard the gate creak open.

(C) E.C.T. Candappa

(Continued tomorrow)

About the author E.C.T. Candappa was one of Sri Lanka's been feature writers in the mid-fifties till the seventies. He was an outstanding journalist at Lake House and distinguished himself as a reporter and feature writer. He is now domiciled in Australia but still very much interested in his country of origin. He visited Sri Lanka last year and interviewed many of the personalities featured in this book.