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Men and matters by Kautilya Islamic fundamentalism.... surely no columnist in this small town has given so much time and space to this topic than this journalist, who has borrowed the name of the man who wrote the Arthasastra... Call me, Art, if you like. Though I do prefer to discuss the phenomenon as the dramatic post-Ayathollah Khomeni revival of Islam, the Western press, that is to say the media of the Christian world, persisted in calling it "Fundamentalism". Israel was the first to make the term a propagandist weapon. Any radical or nationalist politics in a Moslem country became the work of the new devil. Israel is always one step ahead of the rest of the pack. The Israeli agit-prop agencies, which have a full-time job in abusing the poor/helpless Palestinian whose land Israel had seized, turned its heavy cannon on a new dragon identified by the elite Western and Israeli press as "Islamic Fundamentalism". Of course, the Israelis never waste their powder. They had recognised a new, potentially powerful enemy - ISLAM. And then a stunning shock Ñ the Prime Minister of Israel, a much-decorated war hero Ñ is assassinated by a young Jew. But it was no lonely fanatic. He was a member of a secret cell... Jewish Fundamentalists! Yes, there are fundamentalists bred by every religion, including Buddhism, though I prefer to call it the teaching of the Buddha, not the Buddhism marketed to maximise sales. And there can be no doubt, Islam is the top target. A Good many people think that the war between Communism and the West is about to be replaced by a new Jihad not declared by an Islamic state but by the Western media. Hindu Bomb Ahmed Hasan Sheikh, columnist and news analyst. India's True Face Ñ Myth And Reality. And his 'first strike' is quite devastating. He cites the renowned Indian writer Nirad C. Chaudhuri. Bold man, he goes for the jugular: "The current belief is that the Hindus are a peace-loving and non-violent people, and this belief has been fortified by Gandhism. In reality, however, few human communities have been more warlike and fond of bloodshed. I know this will not be believed for Hindu militarism lies buried under a mound of mythical notions like ahimsa, non-violence". The object of their new militarism says Chaudhuri was "putting an end to the existence of Pakistan by what they thought would be a walkover" Walkover what? Hundreds of thousands of dead bodies? Politicians are politicians, from the Korean peninsula and Japan to the U.S. of A., now the sole superpower. See the fate of President Bill Clinton but at least he is no sanctimonious humbug is the line of argument that the writer pursues in his hard-hitting booklet. It is a pity that author Ahmad Hasan Sheikh, who speaks of New Delhi's Chanakyan statecraft, did not refer to the birth of L.T.T.E. terrorism and the role of Indian agencies. Author Sheikh is surely a researcher and analyst! Sri Lankans, overwhelmingly Buddhist rather than Islamic or Hindu, know about the birth of the Liberation Tigers and the object of that monstrous exercise Ñ teaching independent Sri Lanka a lesson and imposing 'Big Brother' hegemony. Apart from all that students of regional politics must be prepared to accommodate Hindu fundamentalism, along with the Islamic variety. As that humble thinker, writer and revolutionary Comrade Mao said - let a hundred 'isms' compete, though 'terrorism' is its main by-product according to Ahmed Sheikh. Terrorism threat What was on show at the industrial exhibition were methods of preventing harm and damage to property. Students of this global problem Ñ and Sri Lanka has produced in Comrade Velupillai Prabhakaran a practitioner worthy of the title once held by Abu Nidhal Ñ the prime exponentof pure unbridled terror Ñ should read Walter Laqueur on "Postmodern Terrorism", an essay published by the journal of the U.S. Council on Foreign Relations two years ago. Reconsider Norochcholai power plant siting Addressing the press on 21 Sept. 1993 the Chairman COB Arjun Deraniyagala said: 'Any protests leading to the non-implementation of the proposed 300MW coal fired power plant in Norachchalai Kalpitiya will result in the people having to face power cuts daily in the year 2004.' Regarding security to which I have been drawing attention since the proposal was taken to Kalpitlya the CEB says that security will be looked into by the Defence Authorities, but that does not mean that security will be enhanced to an extent that normal fishing activities will be affected in any way. But the CEB seems to over look the fact that the coal unloading pier which site on pillars and extends 4 Km into the Kalpitiya sea is exposed to great danger. The danger is not to the power plant itself. If the fishing boats are allowed to pass through this pier can it be protected and fully guaranteed from a fishing boat loaded with bombs blasting the pillars and bringing down the pier and the Huge coal unloaders. We should be fully aware that we are dealing with Suicide bombers. Every boat has to be checked day and night 365 days a year, can this be effectively done? This target is easier to attack than all the targets which have been subjected to terrorist bombs. Consequences Coal power is base load energy and all the industries will depend on this plant. Surely the results wild be catastrophic if such a large power source gets crippled? All the economic activities will grind to a halt. How can the large coal unloaders and the pier be replaced? How many years will it take? These are questions which have to be answered. The plan is to extend this plant to 600 MW and then to 900 MW. These will produce 3600 and 5400 million KwH units respectively. Compare these with the present generation from about same 16 power plant which provide about 4000 million KwH units. Our authorities never learn from experiences. They/confidently under estimate the enemy and suffer disasters. I recently happened to see some MBA lecture notes of the Colombo University. One point struck me where it was stated that we are poor strategists while Prabakaran on the other hand is a very clever strategist. The CEB's choice of Kalpitiya for a large coal power plant proves this point. This inspite of the fact that there are more superior and safer sites for coal power plants Mawella in the South and Dungalpitiya/Negombo on the West Coast. Go Coal Now the CEB is well and truly cornered. In place of a reliable coal power the CEB is now saddled with a large number of diesels and gas turbines which are more polluting, not reliable, not ideal for cheap base load operation in the long term, have high operating costs and make the country dependent on high cost fuel oil from chiefly a volatile region - the Middle East. Performance According to the CEB, the coal power plant has become essential to meet a power demand growth rate of 8%. But if coal power is introduced, this reliable source of power will enable true industrial development to take place and it is almost certain power demand growth will rise to 10%-12%. To meet this demand the CEB will have to established a set of coal power plants. For this identified good coal power plant sites should be preserved. Sadly this is not happening now. Fate The next best site for coal power is Mawella. Here coal ships can be brought close to the shore in Kudawella Bay avoiding fang coal unloading piers in the sea as at Kalpitiya. According to newspaper reports a fisheries harbour is to be set up in this Bay which will make this site unavailable for coal power. The third best site is Dungalpitiya/Negombo. Here the CEB is planning to set up a Barge Mounted power plant. The question is, why is the CEB not reserving these sites for coal power if they are genuinely interested in providing an excellent power system. Are we not specialists in self destruction? Strangely Kalpitiya, the worst site is taken up for this very important power plant to develop to 900 MW. Good sites for this power plant are not easy to find. Even at this late stage the CEB should see that these excellent sites for coal power plants and reports on these sites are made known and preserved. In this context it is essential to set up coal power information centres in Matara and Negombo to undo the damage cane by the foreign funded environmentalists over the years. Bold decisions In the 1960s when the Boeing Co found its supersonic aircraft project SST was not an economical proposition, it was cancelled. The result was that the 60,000 work farce in its Seattle factory was laid off and the $ 100 Boeing shares dropped to $10. Bechtel Engineering Co recruited engineers even from the UK for the construction of a chemical factory in the USA. A Sri Lankan engineer was also one of them. Most unexpectedly at a Board Meeting, as the viability of the project was in doubt, it was cancelled. The Sri Lankan engineer had to go back to the U.R. When the Naptha based Urea Plant in Sri Lanka was taken up for implementation I pointed out that naptha is a very precious commodity and should not be used for fertilizer manufacture. I even got Mr. Denzil Fernando MP, to raise this matter in Parliament on 10 December 1974. Later when the UNP came into power its Finance Minister Ronnie de Mel urged the Government to cancel the project, which was then under construction. But no bold decision was made and the project continued. No sooner the project was completed it was found urea made from naptha was too expensive. So none was produced. Urea made out of waste gas in oil producing countries could be imported very much cheaper. A few years ago this massive 300,000 ton factory was sold to Indians for junk value. I understand they very wisely dismantled it and installed it in an oil producing country in the Middle East to produce urea from waste gas available there almost free. At today's prices this valuable project would cost in the region of Rs. 25000 million. Feasibility studies If the authorities neglect these excellent sites by giving into the obvious lies and anti national attitudes of the foreign funded environmentalists the result will be 'NO' coal power and a continuation of quick fix diesel and gas turbine additions in large numbers. This is exactly what happened in the Philippines resulting in 12 hour power cuts and zero economic growth. The Philippine economy was finally revived by going in for coal power. Those who cannot learn from history are condemned. E. Carlo Fernando From the book 'The Palm of His
Hand' by E.C.T. Candappa Continued from yesterday
Dimly he saw the swinging doors of the theatre. The theatre. The operating theatre...starched, aproned figures coming and going, some with long white gowns, like angels. Was he dead already then? He felt being turned around and being wheeled along the corridors, past wards. Was it all over? He hadn't felt a thing...oh, the good nurses. The very kind nurses...or were they going to bury him...it felt so good, so good, so smooth and fine. Then a male nurse was hovering over him, dressed in white, with a fine, almost pencilled moustache and fine, well-groomed black hair: will there be-hee any brylcream up in heaven? He giggled at the thought of the parodied song because it was funny. He knew he wasn't dead... A little urine, Mr Indra, just a few drops...they raise him, there were two of them, they came on either side and took his arms round their shoulders...he felt limp and his legs were rubbery, and they piloted him to the toilet. He giggled again, the male nurse was from the air force...and again...just a few drops...they untied the lace of the sterile pyjamas and searched for the means to the end...the abbreviated instrument was now further expurgated...at any rate they got what was left over the edge...just a few drops...he tried, heaven knows he tried, he tried, he groaned and sighed and strained, but he was so dry, so dry inside...he looked at them helplessly and shook his head. One drop...I'm sorry. 'My God, I hope you're not diabetic. We haven't got a sample of your urine!' It didn't seem to matter to him at all. Back to the trolley and back to the theatre. It was his time, and they wheeled him in. Chapter 37 Wipe that silly grin off your face. Sometimes said in jest, sometimes in deadly earnest before some dreadful punishment is meted out, by a sadistic police officer. A favourite practice among lower-rung Ceylonese police officers to elicit a quick confession out of hardened criminals to whom psychological intimidation was insufficient, was to get a suspect round a desk, open a drawer, place the man's genitals where they would get caught and shut the drawer suddenly and violently. Hard men were as putty in their hands after that. How did human beings think up such tortures, he wondered again half sleepily, and not with any conscious effort because the question was one which had engaged his mind often and one which he and some of his friends had discussed fairly often and profoundly. He had a flash of full consciousness. Genitals...torture...oh, God, no, no. He raised himself on one arm. A nurse quietened him and lowered him. He was rolled along further until the trolley was level with the operating table, and then adroitly placed on it. Like a space ship, the thought floated across his mind. The large lamp bright over him, the cloaked masked figures hovering above like weightless beings. There were two on either side and one at his feet, Where was the fourth? Four angels always round me spread, Two at my feet and two at my head... He grinned at the recollection of a rhyme remembered from childhood. A moment of panic. He looked archly at the figures again. Were they really angels? In that case, was he...? One of them spoke in very human speech. 'And how are you feeling?' The man's mask was off and he recognised Dr Juriansz. 'Oh, not too bad,' he said. He seemed completely alert by now. He heard the clatter of surgical instruments, of metal on metal. A little ball of small talk was tossed about. It was not the solemn, sweaty-faced scenes he had seen on the cinema. The surgeons on either side kept talking to him. Then one, in a most casual manner, picked up his forearm and probed with a syringe to find a vein, then prodded it into the crock of his elbow. He didn't feel it enter. They kept asking him questions, not any that taxed his wit or superior knowledge. He kept answering them. Then the masked man on the other side, he didn't know which one was Dr Juriansz now, things were getting a little fuzzy again, probed the other arm and stuck a syringe into another vein. More questions. He took longer to come up with the answers, but he did satisfy his examiners. He was grinning again. 'How are you feeling now?' He felt the standard answer would do. Not bad. Evidently they didn't like that. From somewhere, from some recess unseen by him, a long tube with a mask at the end of it was lowered towards him, and with unbecoming haste the mask was fastened over his mouth and nostrils fairly firmly. He could only describe what happened long after it occurred, and then however hard he tried he could think of no better way of describing it than in the well-worn cliche: he went out like a light. He thought he was in a narrow, white grave. That was all right. He could see and he could breathe. There was nothing heavy on him, nothing at all. That was good, too. Maybe now they would start shovelling in the earth. He waited for the final hymn which was always Nearer my God to Thee. He always cried when they played that. Would he cry too? At his own funeral? Did people do that? I am the Resurrection and the Life... Did that Life start so soon after death? But then one never really died, did one? To those who believe, life does not end, but is merely changed... Where did that one come from? Good. So they can start shovelling it in then. But hang on? What were these people doing inside his grave? There was his mother, his father, his sister. There was a slight opening in the wall of the grave and in that he could see a part of a man, his ruddy-complexioned face, a couple of nurses...he heard their voices... 'only his family...no other visitors allowed...just coming out of his anaesthetic...' A male voice then 'just for a second...very urgent...please...won't take longer than a second...' The ruddy face was peering in through the wall...no, it wasn't a wall...certainly not a grave...the mist was clearing...yes, it was a partition like the one they place round patients when they are examined by the surgeon, or being shaved in the nether regions...he wasn't dead then...that was very good indeed. His mother came over warm and round and comfortable and held his hand, and a silly tear rolled down his cheek. Then his mother caressed his hair. He felt so small and vulnerable and grateful. He smiled up at her. His father smiled, too, and brought his head closer. His grey eyes edged with blue were full of tenderness. The smile was gentle and comforting, and the aroma of a recently smoked cigarette came down to him, reassuring as always. His sister came along, her short, black plait tossing about. There was so much affection and relief in her eyes. Her dark eyes shone bright with relief and affection. He was all right. He had not died after all. He then noticed the red, nervously-smiling face peering round the screen again. Vaguely he recognised it as belonging to Bob van Dort, the man who tried to help him have his operation earlier through his influence. He was sincere after all, Raj guessed dreamily. Somehow he had followed his progress at the hospital and he had come on the day of the surgery and he had come in during the visiting hour and now he was trying to see him along with his next of kin. Good man, he thought. Eventually a nurse came to him and said, 'Mr Indra, there's a Mr Van Dort who says he has to see you on something urgent...' Raj smiled. The usual ploy, he thought, of unauthorised visitors. 'I'll see him' he said. Within seconds the man had bounded up to Raj. The same practical smile was there this time edged with nervousness. He darted a glance or two at the others, and once over his shoulder at the nurses visible beyond the partition. 'Hello Raj, how are you?' Before waiting for an answer, he moved right up to the bed head, and bending down to his ear, he got straight to the point. 'Sorry to trouble you at this time, Raj, but can you spare me a thousand bucks?' Raj turned round and gave him a long, long stare. Then his eyes began to brim over with unwanted laughter. 'Please,' he said, controlling his mirth with considerable effort, 'it really is bad for me to laugh at this time. My stitches will give way.' 'Raj, I'm not joking. I really need it. I can give it back in a week. I promise.' Raj put his hand out and touched van Dort's hand. 'I know you are serious but it's so funny. How can I give you a thousand bucks at this time?' 'You can get your pater...' Raj's father had picked up the conversation and he came alongside. 'Who is this man? Does he have no sense?' 'It's all right, Papa. I'll speak to him. Sorry, Bob. I really don't have it.' The man looked terribly disappointed. With the ghost of a smile still fading on his face, he left. And soon Raj was alone, with nameless fears lurking about him. He lay still, trussed up in the same heavy sheet in which he was brought in from the theatre. The pillow was beaten and hard. Underneath him he felt a rubber sheet, going down from under the rib cage down past his feet. This was to prevent patients wetting the bed immediately after surgery. It felt slightly damp from the warm afternoon. There was about his nostrils a strange blend of medicinal smells, part of the odours of the theatre. The screen was off now and a few of the patients came up to his bed and looked silently and went away. Some scanned the history sheet at the foot of his bed. This also recorded the fever. He knew from experience of other patients that his would be between 102 and 104 Fahrenheit. This could go as high as 105 in some cases but it would fluctuate around 103. By morning, after he had passed urine, it would go down and by the following evening it would be around 101. The fever would not return to normal until three days had passed and there was no fear of any infection. He felt the fever on his brow, and the dampness in his hair. Nurses came and went but spoke no word. They smiled, touched his brow, dampened it sometimes with a wet cloth or moistened his lips with a dab of cotton wool soaked in water. He looked up at them and smiled weakly. Often he fell into a doze for a few minutes and woke to a sense of uneasiness. And the fears came out into the open and started marching round in a small circle in his mind...what will happen when the anaesthetic wears out, and the anaesthetic is wearing out, he told himself. Slowly the numbness is fading and then the pain will rise from the great gash he knew not exactly where but he knew the surgeon had cut deep into his abdomen, pushed his guts back in place and then sewn him up. A memory from his childhood...a large coconut plantation...an idle morning...a group of boys wondering idly what they should do...three dogs at their feet waiting for them to come up with a suggestion...and he was whittling a very young coconut with a pruning knife; whittle, whittle...then he sliced an edge off his index finger and the separated flesh hung over while the blood darkened the brown earth... It was staunched with...but that night he lay awake while the finger throbbed like a living thing with pain. (c) E. C. T. Candappa Continued tomorrow History, Anthropology and Tamil Separatism by Kamalika Pieris Let us stop at this point and examine these assertions. Firstly, the British did not need to find any civilizations. They were out to exploit the colonies commercially. They did not care two hoots about ancient culture. It is however greatly to their credit that while exploiting the contemporary environment of Sri Lanka, they yet managed to conserve the ancient element, such as Anuradhapura and Polonnaruwa. One of the reasons for this was the interest taken in the matter by several Governors, notably, Sir Henry Ward (1855-1860), Sir Hercules Robinson (1865-1872) and Sir William Gregory (1872-87). Several of the administrators sent to Sri Lanka, as Civil Servants, were highly educated persons, with a training in classics. They were not ignorant people with a crude approach to ancient cultures. C. E. Godakumbura, writing on the 'History of archaeology in Ceylon' points out that from Portuguese times, writers have provided descriptions of the ancient cities and buildings of Ceylon. These description were made for the benefit of those who had not seen them. The list of such writers includes the Portuguese writers de Queyroz and de Couto. Also the Dutch writers, Valentyn and Baldeus. (Godakumbura. Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society, Ceylon Branch, Vol 13, n.s. p 2-3). Thereafter, Godakumbura continues: "Ceylon had a good fortune of having here at the end of the 18th century, and the beginning of the 19th, a number of men, chiefly military officers and others accompany them who took a keen interest in describing our ancient monuments. This certainly was a result of the artistic inclinations of these people, and not a requirement of their profession.'' (Godakumbura p 4). In this manner, Captain Colin Mackenzie described the temples of Dondra in 1802, Capt. Maloney describe Kataragama (1803). Liet. Barbut described Kandy, Senkadagalanuwara, in 1803. (Godakumbura p 4). In 1817, an army officer came across the ruins of Polonnaruwa. T. R. Backhouse, Collector at Mannar in 1899 made measured descriptions of some monuments and tank bunds at Anuradhapura (p. 5). Thereafter came the travel writings and memoirs of Britishers who had returned from Ceylon. For example Major Forbes in his book ''Eleven Years in Ceylon'' gives us first hand accounts of several sites in Matara, Dondra, Mulgirigala, Kurunegala, Yapahuwa, Kandy, Dambulla, Polonnnaruwa, Mihintale and Anuradhapura. (Godakumbura. p 8) Anuradhapura was the centre of archaeological interest for government in the middle of the 19 century, but officers continued to visit other sites and produce accounts of them. (Godakumbura p 8, 10). Therefore the first point to note is that the British were soon aware of the widespread nature of the ancient civilization of Ceylon, and the fact that it spread from the north, in the Jaffna peninsula right down to the south at Dondra. Thereafter let us look at the scholarly monographs written on Ceylon during British times. The leading work of this period, which eclipsed all others, was Emerson Tennant's ''Ceylon'' (1860). Tennant was the colonial secretary in Ceylon, 1845-1850. This was treated as the definitive work on Ceylon. This book carried out two functions. It was the much needed reference work for the British administration. In addition, the 'comprador bourgeoisie' emerging in the native community, in the 19 century, also got hold of this book and clung to it as a sort of bible, during its nationalist phase. Tennant's ''Ceylon'' could be found on their bookshelves in the 1930's. However, historical research went much further than that in the British period. H. W. Codrington, another British administrator in Ceylon, published in 1920 a ''History of Ceylon'' which was far more scholarly and based on newer research material. Codrington's work has the starting point of modern historiography in Sri Lanka, not Tennant. The manner in which these writers approached the ancient civilization of Sri Lanka could be gauged from K. M. de Silva's comments on Emerson Tennant. ''Some of the most interesting sections of his book are devoted to a description of the ruined cities in or near which these reservoirs or tanks were located—Anuradhapura and Polonnaruwa. At the time Tennant visited these places-1848-their ancient monuments were still covered, indeed smothered, for the most part by a dense tropical forest. Small patches of this dark dank arboreal canopy had been cleared to reveal glimpses of the architectural splendour of these ruined cities, adequate evidence to impress a sympathetic observer like Tennant of the flourishing civilization that had produced these monuments in ancient times and the sophisticated technology displayed in the architecture and sculpture of these times no less than in the irrigation systems that lay neglected and served as breeding grounds for the malaria mosquito. ''Part X of the second volume of Tennant's Ceylon is the most elegantly written account we have of the desolation to the north-central regions of the island before the jungle tide began to recede. He was among the first British administrators to urge the regeneration of the region by the repair of some of these tanks and canals. By sheer coincidence Tennant's Ceylon was published just at the time Governor Sir Henry Ward had initiated the restoration of some of the tanks. The attention that Ward focused on this region was the first phase of a process that led eventually to the creation of the North Central Province under Governor Sir William Gregory a decade later. Through his chapters on this region Tenant contributed not a little to awakening the consciousness of colonial administrators to its architectural and sculptural heritage no less than its agricultural potential.'' Journal of Royal Asiatic Society vol 41, 199 p 26. The second approach is to declare that history is a fluid thing, capable of many interpretations. Valentine Daniel states that 'today history is not unitary in form or purpose. It is fractured into a complex of complementary and contradictory sets of postulates about subjects, objects, and method.'' He says further, that history in Sri Lanka is simplex, based on chronology and the logic of cause and effect.'' (Daniel p 49, 52) (Jeganathan argues that 'multiple, indigenous conceptions of the past clearly existed at the time, and while some conceptions overlap with the Mahavamsa text, others do not.'' (Jeganathan p 112). However he is unable to support this conjecture with any evidence. Elizabeth Nissan remarks that if the Abhayagiri Vihare chronicle had been available to the British historians, not just the Mahavamsa chronicle, the history of Sri Lanka's ancient period may have been different. (Nissan p 27). She does not say why. Not only the Abhayagiri chronical but several others are also known to have existed. However the works that have been found all support a centralised monarchy, with a single consecrated king, with delegated authority and patronage of Buddhism. Secondly even if the Abhayagiri chronicle were found, it would only have strengthened Sri Lanka as a Buddhist community. Mahayana and Theravada are major sects in Buddhism. It is suggested that the British historians and the Sri Lankan historians who succeeded them, inherited a rigid tradition of historical writing from the west. This focused narrowly on political history and the data were largely continued to selected texts. Michael Roberts, who is a very good historian and a very unconvincing anthropologist agrees. He says that the western approach discourages flexible thinking. The local historian, certainly, has got it all wrong. He himself was trained in a narrow rigid approach.'' (Roberts). This question of multiple entities and histories has been concocted by these anthropologists in order to lead into their sole focus of study — Tamil ethnic identity. ''When the ideology of western colonialism demanded a great past for Sri Lanka, both Tamils and Sinhala were able to present a golden past age of culture and fame'' (Hellamman-Rajanayagam in Spencer's ''Sri Lanka History and roots of conflict'' p 109) Nissan argues that 'anthropologists have long stressed the plasticity of representation of the past, and their relationship to changing collective identities. As values change, so history too changes. In several works on Africa and India, the colonial period appears to have been one of extraordinary flux in colonised societies as new institutions, new histories and new colectivities were created. (Continued tomorrow) The kind of leader the country needs by Prabath Sahabandu First I did not want to believe my ears. A dream? I tried to deceive myself. Fatgued by a hectic journey the previous day and the foretaste of a heavy day ahead of us, we had been enjoying a sound sleep. The newly elected government of Chandrika Bandaranaike Kumaratunga had been inveigled into talks with the LTTE. And what we were there to cover was to be the second round of the talks. "Better get going, " urged the fatherly figure that stood at the door, "there might be troubles. Who knows?" What about others? I heard them bustling themselves in adjoining room. Bad new has wings. An aircraft flew over the hotel and the LTTE cadres who stood guard ran out shouting in Tamil. That the peace process, if any, was doomed was clear. Dawn gave into a bright morning. The LTTE hustled us into a bus and dropped us at Point Pedro, where it had its self styled visa office. The ICRC ferried us across to Kankesanthurai, the same route we had taken the previous day. And from the ship we saw the flight we were to board disappear in the clouds like our hopes of the talks. Colombo. The following day. Preparations were afoot for Gamini’s funeral, the Leader of the Opposition and the UNP’s presidential candidate. Flags of different colurs were imbricated all over the city - blue and red, green and white. 50: A beginning His real beginning was however in 1970 at the age of 27, when he burst onto Sri Lankan politics. Of the 17 seats the UNP managed to retain, his was one. As it often happened to him bad luck and good luck took turns in his life. He was unseated in 1971 in an election petition. He was back to the hustings. The monstrous wheels of the newly elected United Front rolled and an otherwise by-election that followed was transformed into a mini general election. Gamini stood in the breach. He bounced back magnificently as an MP. Past student of Trinity College, alumnus of Peradeniya and Cambridge and gifted orator, he strode the political firmament gracefully like a panther through a jungle. Came 1977, the year of the Elephant. The United National Party routed the Front that was not united any more. The SLFP was relegated to the political wilderness. Gamini’s talent and experience stood him in good stead. He was made a cabinet minister of the Jayewardene government. He was only 35 years old. A bulwark of JRJ’s new UNP, which ripped open the country’s economy in an inordinate hurry, Gamini had to cut short the 30 year Mahaweli plan to 6 years. The river Mahaweli, the source of fame and criticism for him was tamed in an astonishingly short period. An act that has vexed environmentalists. Ten reservoirs were built within 6 years and Mahaweli was made synonymous with his name. The higher he rose in politics the more enemies he made. Steeplechase Gamini had put the part before self and thrown his weight behind Premadasa. The decision had been very difficult for Gamini and would cost him his political future. Gamini was made the Minister of Plantation Industries. He was made of the stuff that restrained him from being Premadasa’s stooge. And, as Lalith once told the writer, he used to call President Premadasa by his very name. The relations between the two thus naturally turned sour and the cabinet reshuffle saw Gamini removed. He was now yet another MP. The moribund democracy never recovered under Predmadasa’s rule. And a mutinous group tried to oust Premadasa. And it was an ill-fated attempt which cost the rebels their parliamentary seats. The rest is history. The breakaway group formed the Democratic United National Front (DUNF) and fired the first shot in what was to be a movement for the demoractising of politics. The task was shouldered by a trio, Lalith, Gamini and Premachnadra. Of the trio two were from Oxford, and Cambridge and the other who had graduated from the University of Life and a veritable dynamite who would tear with his unmatched diatribe any leader to shreds. The most feared speaker of the day. An explosive combination this surely was. All however did not end well for this trio. Green eyed monster wooed two of them, Lalith and Gamini. Magnanimous and faced with a common threat, they managed to translate the struggle for leadership into leadership for struggle. Pressure mounted and President Premadasa became tougher. The opposition of which the trio was part and parcel now came under ruthless suppression. The tougher Premadasa grew, the better were things for the trio. The terror strengthened their position that Premadasa had to be ousted. The once lethargic opposition was shaken awake. Came 1993, Lalith was felled by an unidentified assassin identified only by the UNP of the day as one Ragunathan. Mystery of his death however remains. Fingers were pointed at President Premadasa and his allies. But nothing is known as yet. Gamini took over the reins and faced the Provincial Council elections. The DUNF’s debut in an election was a success although the UNP bagged most of the councils. The UNP was his home. And Premadasa was no more. Gamini came back home much to the consternation of many others, who remain committed to the cause that Lalith espoused. At the general election of 94, Gamini was returned with a large majority and he was elected the Leader of the Opposition. Again he made enemies within the UNP. There was not enough breathing space. The Presidential election was round the corner and Gamini was the party’s choice as the candidate. The new Chief Minister of the Western Province and daughter of two prime ministers and widow of the popular politician, Vijaya was basking in popularity having won the general elections a few months ago. Gamini must have had a foretaste of what would happen at the election. "It will be a tough fight, " he told the writer in Parliament a few weeks before his death. Someone patted me on the shoulder while walking down the corridors of power on the Diyawanna Oya. It was Gamini. "How are the things?, I asked. "Well, we are campaigning hard," he said. "How confident are you of winning?" "It will be a tough fight, " he paused, "we will see." We met again at his residence a few days later. And that was the last meeting. It was neither defeat or victory that fate had for him; but death and a irrevocable loss to the country where leaders are fast becoming extinct. He was blasted by the terrorists. And in one fell swoop, the terrorist felled most of those who mattered in the UNP. His faithful friend, Premachandra was by him to the last and took the full blast of the directional bomb. Thus departed a man from the centre stage of politics who had achieved a lot at 52 years. He had removed the L-plates from Sri Lankan cricket, as someone said in his biography. And today our boys make the Mohammed Ali’s of cricket eat humble pie at Lords, the Mecca of cricket. In the same way Gamini made hostile critics of Sri Lankan cricket who denied her test status, swallow their words. Among them was Robin Marlar, who pooh poohed Gamini’s claim that Sri Lanka was testworthy saying that ‘status seeking is the favourite pastime in the Orient." It is sad that when our mighty atoms explode on the turf and send cricketing Ali’s on two or three day leather hunts or when the two dynamites who open for us make a red ribbon of the ball on the field, no mention is made of the man, who enabled them to play with dignity. He telescoped the 30 year Mahaweli plan into 6 years. And made Sri Lanka a test playing nation. He helped democratise Sri Lankan politics and absolve himself of the political sins the party had committed. He was not an infallible man. He had flaws but this is not the occasion to discuss them. But a remarkable leader he was, the kind that this country needs. Tragedy occurs, it is said, when a person is nobler than the forces that destroy him. And Gamini’s death was a tragedy. Lessons Talking while fighting helps none but the enemies of the state. And Gamini was killed while talks were on and the newly elected government and the LTTE were on a honeymoon. Isn’t it anything but harum scarum behaviour of those who propose that talks with terrorists be held again? And when will they learn their lessons? The death anniversary of Gamini, Premachandra and others who were felled on a day like this four years ago, is the occasion for them to rethink of the foolish course of action they have in mind and to abandon it and help adopt a total focus on the need to defeat the LTTE. |
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