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Businessmen and the public good
by K. Godage
(Formerly of the Sri Lanka Foreign Service)Because of Dickens, perhaps, tradesmen have been seen through the years, as sleazy characters, bent on cheating the customer out of his money. The trader was not even entertained at the front door. Even today the rear entrance to a hotel or a stately home is referred to as the ‘tradesman’s entrance’. The world has of course come a long way from those bad old days and the old trader. Today we have Business houses, with budgets far bigger than our national budget, but the old stigma has not yet been completely erased, perhaps, because they have emerged as a new power in the world. Some of these business houses combine to even control governments.
The first priority of any business is the maximization of profit, not the development of a country or the prosperity of the people. It is an understandable fact that the private sector’s interest is to make profit for if they do not do that they would go bankrupt. But for many years during our socialist years, ‘profit’ was a bad word. In these circumstances, the aspersions, the suspicion and the furore in certain circles over the initiative taken by business leaders of Sri Lanka are understandable but it is unfair as they are men of integrity who seek with the best of intention to make their contribution to the national well-being.
What is particularly tragic is the fact that in some quarters this initiative is being transformed into a political football, to play out their power game. The politicization of everything is the curse of this country. It is rumoured that one political faction saw the initiative as benefiting the other and must therefore one to be scuppered, whatever may be its merits. That is one attitude. Then there were others who in absolute good faith no doubt, not wanting the attention of the public to be diverted from the most vital factor for our national well-being — the fight against terrorism. (One should not here forget the fact that Lalith Kotelawela was himself the victim of terrorism).
There is no question that if the people directly or through their representatives demand a total mobilization of all resources, which should include conscription, then we must put everything else aside and take the war to the LTTE (I personally believe that there is no other way) but until such time, the country and the people must address themselves to other pressing issues that also confront us.
Let us examine the ‘Ten Points’ of the business community (forgetting for the moment their parentage),
1) "The effective resolution of the north-east conflict". Could there be any quarrel about that? All of us seek an "effective resolution" of the conflict. They too want the same for it is undoubtedly the pivotal issue and all else follows. I shall return to this after discussing the other issues identified in the ‘Ten Points’.
2) "Ensuring that there is no discrimination. Ensuring equality for all Sri Lankan citizens irrespective of their race, gender. Political affiliation, religion etc."
These are rights assured under the Constitution so we cannot have any quarrel with that either.
3) "Ensure personal security and peace for all Sri Lankans"
Considering the level of violence prevailing in the country we should demand the provision of better security for our people.
There is nothing objectionable in that either.
4) "Introduce the use of English as a link language and legislate for English to be an official language"
English is already a link language in terms of section 18 (3) of the Constitution. It is undoubtedly the most important language in the world today and every effort must be made to empower the people.
It is equally important and in our security interest, to ensure that the Sinhalese empower themselves with Tamil, the language of 52 million people in the region as a whole and of almost 2 million people in this country.
5) "Ensure the power and independence of the Public Service Commission, Judicial Services Commission and the Police Service".
No citizen or group should have any quarrel with that but suffice it to state that the framers of the Ten Points have significantly left out the Elections Commission, a National Education Commission and the Bribery Commission.
6) "Ensure that White/Green Papers are published prior to legislation for open public debate on all important national issues."
A practice followed in many countries in the interest of better legislation but not resorted to by governments here. The practice for parliamentary committees to ‘hear’ the public on all before the House, a practice followed by many countries to ensure better legislation should be introduces here too.
7) "Agree to a set of common policy criteria which would remain unchanged for a minimum term of 15 years unless otherwise agreed to by both Government and Opposition, thus ensuring continuity of policy with regard to the following:
a) Agriculture
b) Industry and
c) Trade and Commerce"
For too long have we had new governments completely undo the work of their predecessors in office. Domestic sector agriculture is a, for instance, has suffered immensely on account of such actions.The two main political parties in the country must arrive at consensus on Policy on identified issues. There is no doubt that there must be continuity and predictability to create confidence for investment or any form of economic activity.
8) "To introduce reforms in labour laws and practice to conform to current business needs. Specific areas requiring urgent attention are -
a) labour market flexibility
b) Reduction in the number of holidays
c) Equality of rights and obligations of both employees and employers and
d) Linking remuneration to productivity"
These are politically charged contentious issues and should be settled at a meeting between the main political parties, the trade unions and the chambers. They are indeed important issues for the well being of the country.
9) " To support and implement the adoption of required educational reforms" (sic)
It is absolutely essential for there to be consensus on a National Education Policy.
10 "Formulate and implement National Economic Plans in consultation with the chambers of commerce and industry, employers organizations and trade associations".
Governments have particularly after 1977 abandoned classical planning, perhaps, because, as a concept it is too close to the now discarded socialist system. Even our National Development Council has only come up with some sectoral plans".
There is no doubt that our private sector has come of age after 20 years of the free market/open economic system. A certain maturity appears to have entered into their affairs and they at long last appear to be prepared to shoulder social responsibility. This is extremely significant. The private sector seems to be seeking to forge a new partnership with government, political parties and the people at large. This is a new development and must be welcomed.
In all developed countries and also in India the organised private sector is an important partner with whatever government is in office, working together for the better governance of the country. Therefore the call of the business leaders for "a common policy framework to enable the private sector to perform its role more effectively" is both legitimate and justified. This is in a sense a challenge, which the Government and the Opposition must accept.
This initiative is indeed a historic one, for the business community has hitherto danced to the tune of the ‘politician piper’, even though they it was who paid the ‘piper’. They have quite suddenly emerged from the closet to be counted as a factor. I do hope that they would not lose their strength and staying power and fold up, or allow themselves to be manipulated by designing politicians for their purposes.
It has now been revealed that the business leaders have been requested to concentrate on ‘the first item on their agenda’ namely "the effective resolution of the north-east conflict" and drop the other nine. Certain politicians appear to have given them the impression that they could play the role of ‘Facilitator’, still others have made them believe that they could act as ‘Mediators". It may not be long before someone requests them to negotiate! I do hope they do not bite the bait. The politicians are desperate and may be seeking to use the businessmen for their own purposes.
Finding a lasting solution to the north-east problem is certainly fundamental and pivotal to the resolutions to all our other problems, but the businessmen, with all respect to their abilities in their own fields, should not be asked to undertake more than they are capable of. They have neither the competence nor the experience to undertake such a task. They should use their good offices first to bring the two main political parties together and no more.
The LTTE has already rejected the so called ‘package’, which is only a trifle short of complete autonomy, so where is the space to negotiate unless the LTTE is made to climb down. And what leverage has the business leaders to get them to do this? Have the business leaders the capacity to face ‘street power’? Let us not forget the spontaneous eruption in ’87. Asking the business leaders to get involved is akin to throwing lambs into the ring with lions and tigers. They do not possess the competence nor the experience to walk this perilous minefield, (some may perhaps entertain visions or delusions of greatness, of playing the role of a Kissinger, but I hope that sanity prevails).
They certainly have a role to play; they must tell our political leaders that they have a responsibility to create the right ambiance for cooperation to find a solution to the northeast problem and for the solution of other national issues.
Most unfortunately, to me it appears that this good initiative is badly timed. With elections approaching the political climate is not right for bipartisan action, however urgent the situation may seem. What was said by "someone" on the 21st October, about the UNP, would sound like a statement at church, when compared with the statements yet to come, from both sides, in the days weeks and months ahead. Our politicians put power, themselves and the party before country.
A Tamil heroine unmourned and the sociology of obfuscation – Chapter 03
The Mayoral career of Sarojini YogeswaranIn many ways Sarojini Yogeswaran, nee Ponnambalam, was an ordinary middle-class Tamil woman. Born in 1933 she spent her early life in Malaya where her father worked, and returned home to Nallur, Jaffna after the second World War, as the daughter of a Malayan pensioner. She earned her BA (London) and taught at Vembadi Girls High School. Her inherited wealth ensured that she would be relatively comfortable in life. Her induction into Tamil nationalist politics was through her husband V.Yogeswaran, who became the charismatic TULF MP for Jaffna in 1977. Her rise to greatness was on account of her clearly thought out response to a challenge resulting from a traumatic event in her personal life. In the account below we will refer to two excellent detailed articles about her. One is by D.B.S.Jeyaraj (titled ‘Death of a True Heroine’) in the Island of 20th May 1998 (referred to as [DJ]) and the other by ‘Roving Correspondent’ in the Sunday Leader of 24th May 1998 (referred to as [RC]).
During the period of the Indo-Lanka Accord, the LTTE targeted the TULF leaders. Through Yogeswaran who naively attempted to bring about amity between the TULF and the LTTE, the latter tried to lure the TULF leaders into the Mullaitivu jungles, but they declined. Eventually talks were arranged at Yogeswaran’s flat in Colombo. During this period ( 1989) the LTTE were freely moving around Colombo as they were having talks with the Premadasa government. Although security was provided for the TULF leaders on the initiative of Gamini Dissanayake, a government minister who was himself killed by the LTTE in 1994, on Yogeswaran’s instructions the LTTE delegation led by its intelligence chief Visu was not searched. During the meeting Amirthalingam and Yogeswaran were shot dead in the presence of Mrs.Yogeswaran who had just served refreshments to the killers. The latter in turn were shot dead by the police security who came rushing upstairs upon hearing gunshots. Thus the Tiger Leader completed the act of political parricide on which he had set his mind, by using his chief henchmen in a suicide mission.
"After Yogeswaran’s death Sarojini was quite demoralised for awhile. The Yogeswarans had no children and Sarojini was all alone now. She was not in financial difficulties because of the substantial property inherited. Had she wanted to, Sarojini could have led a peaceful, comfortable existence. Yet her politicisation because of her late husband and desire to carry on his work motivated her to dabble in politics. More importantly she, like most responsible TULFers, was burdened with a "political cross". It was the TULF that radicalised Tamil politics and fired youth imagination with the vision of EelamÉ She became totally disillusioned with the so called armed struggle. She felt that the only way out for Tamil redemption was the for saking of violence and returning to democracy. She realised that a negotiated settlement followed by development was the only solution.......
"Sarojini wanted some development-oriented action. An opportunity arose when local authority elections were announced. She staked her claim for the Jaffna municipality. Under the circumstances she was the best bet for Jaffna from the TULF. When party colleagues became worried about her security, she told them bluntly, "Don’t worry about that. That’s my problem". Her courage was inspiringly overwhelming. She got her nomination". [DJ]
A technical hitch in the TULF nomination which had to be resolved in Court left the TULF with only ten days of campaigning. Sarojini undauntedly led her campaign with almost no resources or infrastructure and with people being afraid to identify with her openly. One man who supported her and paid a heavy price was S.Namasivayam mentioned earlier, who became vice-president of the TULF branch. He was a long standing TULF supporter, known as a good man in the locality, was munificent in contributing to local charitable causes and was in the forefront in addressing local problems.
Another circumstance about Mrs.Yogeswaran which is generally unknown deserves mention. After Yogeswaran was killed, from the end of 1989 until June 1990, the Tigers reigned all-powerful over the lives of Tamils anywhere in this country, with the active backing of the UNP Government. Many TULF cadre were arrested by the LTTE and taken to their notorious camps through Government check points. At this time Mrs.Yogeswaran was among the few we know of, who was sending information out of the country about this outrage.
Marwaan Macan Markar who covered the Jaffna elections for the Sunday Leader was moved by a particular incident he witnessed. On polling day a policeman shooed away Mrs.Yogeswaran from a polling station in Chundikuli, not recognising her as a mayoral candidate. Sarojini smiled it off. There was no self-pity. What came from her was concern for the people and reflections on the uphill task ahead. Under the circumstances her election as Mayoress of Jaffna was a handsome victory and a demonstration of hope.
"Sixty year old Sarojini Yogeswaran knew death was inevitable. Knowing the Tigers well she had no illusions about their sparing her. But she may have thought or hoped that the LTTE would have let her alone for some time at least so that she could get the municipal council to initiate some rehabilitation and reconstruction work that would have alleviated the suffering of the people. But to the LTTE any countenancing of civil administration in Jaffna was anathema. It had to be nipped in the bud and the easiest thing was to gun down an unarmed old woman.
"Sarojini Yogeswaran was not an extraordinarily brave person. But in coming forward to be elected as Jaffna mayoress in a climate of fear and violence, she displayed supreme courage and dedication. She had a vision of restoring on ‘unarmed democracy’ to JaffnaÉ Her vision of an unarmed democracy in effect meant a departure from the ecology of the gun that bedevils traditional Tamil homelands, under the guise of liberation struggles. So great was her commitment that she refused armed security while campaigning as well as after being elected. She refused to have bodyguards. Sarojini also turned down an offer by the military to establish a checkpoint close to her residence. This was not due to foolish bravado but to a deep conviction that a genuine farewell to arms was absolutely necessary to bring about a constructive change on the path to self-destruction....
"It was this knowledge that the chariot of death was drawing near that imbued Sarojini Yogeswaran with a sense of impatience. She was stridently articulate about the needs of Jaffna. But some of her recent interviews suggest that she was terribly disappointed by the attitude of the Government in this regard.... So great was Yogeswaran’s anguish that she went on record saying that [President] Kumaratunga had not delivered all she had promised at a recent meeting.... [However] Sarojini Yogeswaran’s interaction with NGOs and foreign missions was becoming successful. Finances were being sanctioned and promises made for a number of ventures in Jaffna - when the LTTE made its strike. The LTTE’s killing of Sarojini Yogeswaran was a predictable action. The spirit of democratic assertion that was developing in Tamil politics seems to have evaporated at least for now" [RC].
Thus Sarojihi who had been seen as a pretty average middle-class woman, through a singular act of courage for which the conditions were created by the nature of circumstances surrounding her husband’s death, was rising to heights of sacrifice and nobility. To many who met her after she became a mayoral candidate, she was a woman with a mission in the face of stalking terror of the most inscrutable kind. She was playing the life-giving role of a mother outside the narrow confines of family. She was trying to give life to a dying people.
Here was how she struck Bandula Jayasekera who interviewed her for national television, which also shows her keen awareness of danger: 'The moment I met her she became amma [mother] to me and I became putha [son in Sinhalese] to her. She was loving and motherly. She requested me before the interview not to ask certain questions due to fear of threats to her life.
'Son, if you ask me those questions I have to give direct answers and certain elements will not like what I have to say - so let us avoid them', she said. She wanted to live with the people who elected her to office. 'I am moving to Jaffna [from Colombo] with all my pots and pans', she told me.... She was a brave woman, a Mother Courage, a symbol of peace, who wanted to serve the people of Jaffna, and rekindle the spark of democracy in the land of the broken palmyrah....' [Midweek Mirror 20.5.98]
We had observed in "Living through Jaffna’s Sultry Sunset" that soon after the local elections there was relief and even optimism. The LTTE had drawn back from outright confrontation. Also before the elections notices of threat and intimidation against participating in, or co-operating with, the elections was issued in the name of "Sangiliyan Force". The local population and the journalists covering the elections identified this with the LTTE. Nothing more was heard of this group for two months after the elections. A lady, a foreign correspondent based here, observed that the people in Jaffna did not in general seem to realise that Mrs.Yogeswaran was taking a tremendous risk. When Sarojini on a trip to Colombo was delayed from returning by a minor accident, several people complained.
During the first two months after the elections the LTTE which was present in Pungudutivu, an off-shore island of 10 square miles, 15 miles from Jaffna town and linked by road, concentrated on summoning influential officials and traders for meetings. ‘Sangiliyan Force’ made its reappearance through letters in mid-April, threatening senior officials, traders and individuals not to co-operate with the Army. All councillors were asked to resign. The columnist ‘Paasupathan’ writing in the Sanjeevy (Saturday edition of Uthayan) of 8th April quoted what he termed ‘biased’ newsagencies in Colombo and the local military authorities as identifying ‘Sangiliyan Force’ with the LTTE. Cont
His failure to say what he thought or to offer an alternative suggestion was a clear indication of his thinking. The LTTE was clearly getting worried about ‘democratic assertion’.
This was about the time the Jaffna Municipal Council had its first sitting. An LTTE threat to Mrs.Yogeswaran had appeared in hideous Tamil verse in its journal ‘Liberation Tigers’before the elections, which referred to Vettivel’s daughter-in-law whose eyes have not been opened. It added: "The lady who roams the streets of Wellawatte and lived in luxury in Colpetty, wants a throne it seems.... Say we will come! We will comeÉ" We have here a good indication of how the feelings of ordinary LTTE cadre having a tough life are deliberately aroused against civilians they target. Mrs.Yogeswaran was shot dead during the morning of 17th May by two killers who called at her residence. She had been talking to the deputy mayor. When she came out, the second person who was behind the first pulled out a T56 (as reported) from hiding and sprayed Sarojini, after which they escaped through the back. The same day a note claiming to be from the Sangiliyan Force was delivered to Uthayan press next door to Sarojini’s - in a lane in front of Kailasapillaiyar Kovil. The note stated that the victim had disregarded their warnings to resign, including the final one, and they therefore ‘dispatched her to the world of Yama’.
To those journalists from Colombo who heard about the Sangillyan Force during the elections, the note confirmed their earlier suspicion that the LTTE were the killers. The claim was bound to be authentic as no one trifles with the LTTE. The fear in Jaffna and the reluctance of people to go to her home was again a clear indication that they believed it was the LTTE. The BBC Tamil Service, also on the same day, interviewed the TULF Secretary and the Jaffna based reporter whom they regularly contacted. The latter had until the LTTE quit Jaffna in 1995, worked for the LTTE paper ‘Eelanatham’. The lady from the BBC (TS) asked the party secretary, "who killed Sarojini?" The Secretary replied, "I have no authority to say who did it"; He was then asked what they were going to do about the vacancy created by the murder. To this an indefinite answer was given.
The reporter from Jaffna answering the question who were the killers, said that it could not have been the LTTE! His reasoning was that since there was a sentry point at the junction, LTTE cadre carrying a T56 could not have come that way. This was obviously not a seriously thought out answer if the truth was the objective, since many other questions arise: Did the assassins have to pass the sentry point?, Were bags being checked?, Who would then be allowed to pass the sentry points with a T56? etc. To those who are politically alert, the TULF Secretary’s answer indicated his belief. But the effect of the second interview sowed confusion.
Two days later (19th), Uthayan received a second letter from the Sangiliyan Force written in cruder handwriting. It made the following claims: "All local councillors who have been sent warnings by us, including Sarojini Yogeswaran, are on our hit list. As we were about to deliver our punishment, somebody else cut short our work by killing her, for which we are very grateful. This killing must have been the work of one of the Tamil parties greedy for ‘position-chairs’. Since Sarojini Yogeswaran was leading our list, on hearing of her assassination our Jaffna district leader issued a statement to the Uthayan on the mistaken premise that we were responsible. We express our deep sorrow for this. We deny that there is any connection between us and the Tigers as alleged in the press and broadcasting media. We have had no contact with the Tigers from the time we started functioning on Jaffna soil, but we fully endorse their policies which are in agreement with ours".
On 19th May, the same day the second letter was delivered, a staff member of the Uthayan (evidently Paasupathan, the columnist) went to Pungudutivu to meet an LTTE leader (evidently Thooyavan). Such meetings are sought from time to time by the LTTE. As reported in the Uthayan the following day, the spokesman declined to comment on the alleged connection between the LTTE and the Sangiliyan Force. He accused all Tamil parties of co-operating with the Government to show that there is normality in Jaffna and so betraying the struggle. The pertinent comment he made was: "It is inevitable that when selfish people like Mrs.Yogeswaran try to seize positions against the wishes of people in order to quash their struggle, there will emerge from among the people as a countermove, organisations like the Sangiliyan Force. That such selfish persons would be killed by such Forces is also inevitable".
This amounted to an admission by the LTTE that it was they who killed Sarojini Yogeswaran. For the reasons we pointed out earlier, the LTTE admitting an independent force sharing its ideology and objectives is sheer nonsense. Ample confirmation that the LTTE were the killers was available when the Uthayan was distributed in Jaffna on the morning of 20th May and in Colombo the same afternoon. But this confirmation was totally ignored by the Tamil press columnists and the TULF. We will subsequently examine the consequences of this. Even the second letter was often distortedly reported by merely saying that the Sangiliyan Force disclaimed responsibility, while it conveyed much more.
Why the LTTE went through this rigmarole is a question that naturally arises. We can only make a fair guess. The LTTE being accused of the killing in international news networks and broadcasting media seems to have rattled them. This arose from the first letter and the fact that foreign correspondents who covered the Jaffna elections had already linked the Sangiliyan Force and the LTTE. That the LTTE was getting worried and hence the second Sangiliyan letter is suggested by its reference to the press and broadcasting media. The LTTE in Pungudutivu appears to have overplayed this game in summoning the Uthayan.
Continued tomorrow
Religion
A brief biographical sketch
Venerable Walpola Rahula
By Udaya Mallawarachchi
Editor-VimamsaWalpola Rahula was born on 9 May 1907 at the village of Walpola in the Galle district of the Southern Province of Sri Lanka. As a child he attended the village school, but had to leave after a difference of opinion with his teacher who decided to cane him for some prank. Rahula refused to submit to any corporal punishment; the schoolmaster insisted that he should. So ended all his official schooling.
The boy then entered the Buddhist temple in his village. From that time, until he was admitted to Ceylon University College, almost all his education was private. At the age of about thirteen or fourteen, with his parents’ encouragement and approval, Rahula was admitted into the Sangha (order of Buddhist monks) at the temple. After a course of training in Sinhala, Pali, Sanskrit, Buddhism and Buddhist history according to the traditional monastic system of the island, Walpola Rahula matriculated privately and in 1936 became an undergraduate at the Ceylon University College, then affiliated to the University of London. He thus became the first Buddhist monk to enter the University College as a student, making news at the time which was not appreciated by some conservative elements.
Rahula began to study English and the normal secondary school curriculum rather later in life, about the age of twenty or so, after completing his traditional monastic training. During this period of his struggle for knowledge, he was helped by, among others, Dr. E. F. C. Ludowyk, at that time Lecturer, and later Professor of English Language and Literature at University College, who took a hand in Rahula’s education in English; and Mr. S. Thangarajah, Lecturer in Mathematics and Science at St. Joseph’s College, Colombo. The latter shared a house with Rahula for several years and took a particular interest in the young monk’s study of mathematics. Both these friends, who helped Rahula in his academic career, are non-Sinhalese and non-Buddhist, indicating that he was regarded and appreciated as a person whose interests were not confined to any religious or national boundaries.
During the early 1930s Walpola Rahula became a well-known preacher; criticizing some popular Buddhist practices, and publishing a series of pamphlets under the general title Satyodaya Patrika (truth-revealing pamphlets, 1933-4). These, freely distributed, contained Rahula’s religious views, revolutionary at the time, which stimulated the re-thinking of many people in Sri Lanka.
In the thirties Rahula’s interest in the social and economic welfare of the country led him into the political struggle for freedom. In the forties he actively supported the working-class movement and workers’ strikes and found himself in the remand jail in Colombo, confined there for three days in the interests of ‘law and order’ (1947). He encouraged Buddhist monks in keeping with their ancient historical tradition, to leave their secluded life of leisure in monasteries and to devote their energies ‘for the good of the many, for the happiness of the many’. It was during this period that, in reply to his critics as well as a manifesto for his movement, Rahula published Bhiksuvage Urumaya (1946) which became a manual not only for young monks but also for young social workers and politicians. (This is now available in English under the title The Heritage of the Bhikkhu, Grove, Press, Inc., New York, 1974).
In this political period Rahula attended the Inter Asian Relations Conference in New Delhi in 1947, and came in contact with many Indian leaders including Pandit Jawaharlal Nehru, Rajendra Prasad, Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan, Jai Prakash Narain, Acharya Naredra Deva and Dr. Ambedkar.
Walpola Rahula obtained the B.A. Honours Degree (Indo-Aryan) of the University of London in 1941 and proceeded to the University of Calcutta on a Ceylon Government scholarship for post-graduate research. There he worked with two internationally renowned professors: the late S. N. Das Gupta and B. M. Barua. When work at Calcutta University was disorganized by Japanese occupation of neighbouring Burma during the Second World War, Rahula returned to Colombo and worked with the late Professor G. P. Malalasekera on a thesis on the History of Buddhism in Ceylon and obtained the degree of Ph. D. of the University of Ceylon in 1950.
After his return from Calcutta Rahula became a Senior Teacher at Vidyalankara Pirivena, one of the two leading monastic colleges in Sri Lanka, holding the posts of Academic Secretary of the College as well as the Secretary General of the Governing Body.
In 1950 with a French Government post-doctoral research fellowship granted at the initiative of Professor Paul Demieville of the College de France, Dr. Rahula went to the Sorbonne to engage in research on Mahayana Buddhism, particularly the works of Asanga. There he worked mainly with Professor Demieville, and also with such professors as Louis Renou, Olivier Lacomb, Jean Filliozat, Marcelle Lalou and Andre Bareau. Professor Demieville introduced Dr. Rahula to Mgr Professor Etienne Lamotte, the renowned Buddhologist in Belgium, and they became very cordial and intimate friends. During his stay in Paris Rahula made valuable contacts with several leading Orientalists and Buddhologists in Europe including Miss (Dr.) I. B. Homer, President of the Pali Text Society in London, a very devoted and loyal friend.
While in Paris Rahula translated into French one of the most important and difficult Mahayana Buddhist philosophical texts, the Abhidharmasamuccaya of Asanga, written in Sanskrit in the 4th century A.C.: Le Compendium de la Super-Doctrine (Philosophie) (Abhidharmasamuccaya) d’Asanga, Ecole Francaise d’Extreme- Orient, Paris, 1971. This was the first time that this work had ever been rendered into any modern language. Professor J. W. de Jong, in a review published in T’oung Pao (vol. LIX, pp.339-46), suggested that the two glossaries, Sanskrit-French and French Sanskrit, given at the end of Rahula’s translation (pp. 189-216) could well form the basis of a dictionary of Buddhist terms in French.
Rahula was a member of the Ceylon delegation to the UNESCO General Conference in 1958. During this conference, which lasted several weeks, he had the opportunity, practically every day, of meeting and working with Angelo Roncalli, then Papal Nuncio in Paris, later Pope John XXIII. They became good friends, and at a reception given at the Vatican Embassy in Paris the Nuncio embraced Rahula and introduced him as ‘the real universal ambassador- no frontiers’.
In 1964, on the proposal of Edmund F. Perry (Chairman of the Department of Religions), Northwestern University, Evanston, Illinois, USA, invited Dr. Rahula to be the first Bishop Brashares Professor of History and Literature of Religions, a newly created Chair. He became the first bhikkhu (Buddhist monk) to hold a professorial chair in the Western world. Since then he has been a Visiting Professor at Northwestern University for one or two quarters a year almost annually for more than ten years. During this long period a deep friendship and understanding developed between Rahula and Perry. It is not surprising therefore that Rahula’s latest book, Zen and the Taming of the Bull, was dedicated to the Reverend Edmund F. Perry, a Christian Methodist minister, with a quotation from the Dhammapada: Vissasaparama nati, (trustworthy (friends) are the best of kinsmen), signifying the value of inter- religious friendship and understanding.
Sri Kalyapi Samagri Sangha-sabha, the Chapter of the Order of Buddhist monks in Sri Lanka to which the Venerable Walpola Rahula belongs, recognized his profound erudition by conferring on him in 1965 the highest honorary title of Tripitakavagisvaracarya, Supreme Master of Buddhist Scriptures, with the qualification, Sri (Gracious): a title held by only two or three scholars in Sri Lanka.
In 1966 the Venerable Professor Rahula accepted the invitation of the government to become the Vice-Chancellor of Vidyodaya University of Sri Lanka. He resigned in 1969 in order to return to Paris and continue his research work there.
In 1970 the Sri Lanka Academy of Letters recognized Rahula’s scholarly eminence by conferring on him the Honorary Membership of the Institution.
Professor Rahula left Paris in 1974 and went to reside in London. His nephew, Mr. Arthur Hettigoda, a finance and insurance consultant and journalist in London, and Miss (Dr.) I. B. Homer, President of the Pali Text Society of London, encouraged and helped to make this move. Since then he has been working in collaboration with Miss Homer in connection with the Pali Text Society of which he is a Council Member. Together with Miss Homer he is also a Patron of the British Buddhist Association in London.
In 1977 Dr. Rahula was Cornell Visiting Professor at Swarthmore College, Swarthmore, Pennsylvania, USA.
The University of Sri Lanka honoured Professor Rahula by conferring on him the degree of Doctor of Letters honoris causa in 1978, and in the same year Nava Nalanda Mahavihara of Bihar, India, one of the oldest universities in the world, conferred on him the degree of Vidyavaridahi (D.Litt.) honoris causa. The following year he received the degree of Doctor of Literature honoris causa from the University of Oriental Studies in Los Angeles, California.
In 1979 Dr. Rahula was at the University of California, Los Angeles (UCLA), both as the Regents’ Lecturer and as the distinguished Visiting Professor of Anthropology.
During the last fifteen years Professor Rahula has travelled widely both in the East and in the West, and has taught, delivered lectures and conducted seminars in many universities in various parts of the world, from USA to Japan.
He is now Chancellor of Kelaniya University of Sri Lanka as well as President of the Paramadhamma Buddhist Institute of Sri Lanka, an international centre for training young monks both from home and abroad for the purpose of spreading the message of the Buddha among nations.
In 1980 Professor Rahula received the degree of LL.D. honoris causa from the University of Kelaniya, Sri Lanka.
From the book 'The Palm of His Hand' by E.C.T. Candappa
The excitement of returning homeContinued from yesterday
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.Raj was aware of all the intricacies of Christian theology. He could argue about the niceties of Buddhist and Hindu philosophies but not with people who had not studied these subjects as extensively as he, with people like Miss Hapangama. The practice of religion was quite simple, he thought. The theory was quite complicated.
At a few minutes past nine, the Catholic chaplain arrived. He was a big framed man with a small ungainly paunch, completely bald, with shining, oily face. He knew Raj quite well but spoke not a word of greeting or comfort. He spoke business. "I'll bring you communion at seven. You want to make your confession?"
As it happened Raj didn't need to, and said so.
The next moment, without the least reaction, the priest turned abruptly round and left, carrying his bag in a limp hand.
My God, thought Raj, what of people who might meet him, the last human being, as they hovered on the verge of eternity?
He admired efficiency and professionalism, but this...
Then again, he excused him. Routine can deaden anything. There was also the human factor, the human toll.
The following morning, after the priest had been and gone, he had left, in spite of himself, a sense of life and peace and strength behind him. Miss Hapangama called.
The sun had not reached the wards yet but there was no need when she was there, Raj thought.
"Good morning," she said, her voice full of light as well, "how are you now? I can see you are much better. Fever is going down well. Can have a good breakfast today. Aaaanh, where's the thread?"
The moment he had feared had come.
"Under the pillow," he said.
"Aiyyo, must tie it on the wrist. Shall I tie it?"
He choked for words.
"No," he said softly.
She was still smiling but a shadow of pain crossed her eyes.
What the hell, he thought, I'll tell her. Then perhaps she won't be offended. She'll understand.
"We...I mean...Catholics are not allowed to do that...thank you very much for caring so much...very nice of you, but..." he blundered on, "it would be a sin for us to do it...I'd do it if I could just to please you..."
Her smile was a frozen mask. She seemed to freeze, herself. Oh, how can I explain to her? How can I make her understand that in refusing this gift I do not mean to repulse it, that I do not reject her, do not mean to hurt her, even inadvertently, even in the very least, this gentle being, this tolerant, considerate, caring person...
She touched his hand, then turned and walked slowly away. At the door, she did not turn round as she usually did.
He thought of the millions who were divided in different ways and of all the pain that such divisions caused; and the weight of that sadness was crushing.
Jinasena, the union leader, was on duty that night.
"I hear you are leaving tomorrow" he said. "Go with the aid of the gods" he said. Deviyange pihiten yanna.
A traditional mode of dismissal in Sinhala or Tamil is to say literally "Go and come." It contains the hidden wish that the parties will meet again.
Raj noted that Jinasena did not repeat that part of the phrase. It was omitted when patients were leaving hospitals. Even if the patients said, "I will go and come," they were instantly corrected. "Do not say you will come back. You must not come back here again."
Raj marvelled anew at the manner in which the culture of a people entered the niceties of the language.
When the lights were out and Raj still lay awake with the excitement of returning home and to work he saw three shadowy figures enter the ward. They approached his bed, and by now he recognised Jinasena.
"Are you asleep?" he asked, redundantly.
"No," said Raj.
"I have brought the vice president and secretary of our union to meet you," he said.
The others were all clad like Jinasena in white shirts and cloth with the coarse overalls of attendants.
For a moment a tiny cloud passed over Raj's mind. Did they want to keep in touch in order to obtain press favours?
The next moment he felt ashamed of himself for entertaining, even for a second, such an unworthy thought.
For the attendant said, "I have brought them to meet a niyama mahatmayek, a regular gentleman."
Raj did not know what to say. What worlds divided them. These men were different in race, creed and social standing and political stance. He wondered what he had done to be esteemed by them, and in this manner.
He reached out and clasped Jinasena's hand. The man placed his hand over Raj's.
"Sir," he said, "we are called minor employees." The Sinhala term sulu sevakaye with the emphasis on sulu, which also meant trifling or slight, carried a note of contempt.
"But you, sir, you treated us as human beings. You listened to us. With a heart like yours we know you will prosper in whatever you do."
The other men said nothing but their eyes shone in agreement.
Tears filled Raj's eyes. He stood up and embraced each of them. Then, abruptly, they turned and left very quietly.
Chapter 41
Departures from hospitals are invariably better vertically. The sneeringly cynical thought awoke almost as soon as Raj did the following morning.Horizontal exits are better left for pubs, he thought. He had heard many of his colleagues brag that they could drink anyone under the table; and their friends had borne them out.
Some parties, some wild farewells he had seen in his time.
His pulse quickened at the thought of getting back to the swing of things in the busy mart of journalism. Unfortunately it was where news was bartered for reputations and souls were sold for scoops. Odd, he thought, to be in such a cynical mood, but then again it was not possible to deal in journalism without being seared by the heat of its pace or alternately numbed by its cold, hard touch.
A priest had once defended Raj when he had been called by that commonest of all descriptions, "hard- boiled journalist."
"Raj, hard- boiled?" the priest had said. "He'll never be that, if you mean hardened and without feeling. I've known him for some time, and I know he will always represent the human side of journalism."
Raj had treasured that and, indeed, it was often hard for him not to go ‘over the top' when writing of a tragedy, not to get too involved with the heart. Yet it was that trait that won him several prizes at a national level.
He half-knew why the cynical side of his was getting turned on. He feared the moment when he had to say goodbye. He would shed a few idiotic tears, for sure. It always happened after a fortnight's holiday, with strange people, when friends migrated, when the migratory birds returned to winter in the warmth of Sri Lanka, at weddings when the bride began to cry, and ah, of course, at all funerals. Was he less of a man because of that?
Shortly after John F Kennedy's assassination, a friend of Raj, a professional singer, had bragged to him, "The Kennedy's don't cry."
At that time it profited the media to portray the Kennedys as the soul of universal goodness and the epitome of all that was excellent in American manhood. It was profitable to the same media to discover some years later that they had human frailties and splash them in letters of mud across the world's headlines.
Raj had told the singer: "There's nothing wrong in crying. The Bible records in the briefest sentence in it, ‘And Jesus wept'." It had shut the Kennedy fan's mouth for a few moments.
And then Miss Hapangama walked in, preceded as often by the scent of cologne, and talk and the warmth of her smile. There was nothing amiss there.
"You're going today."
"Yes."
A long pause in which the smile lingered but the eyes grew sad. Raj looked at her steadily. "Can I come and see you here?"
"You won't know when I am on duty."
The shorthand speech again. She did not want him to visit her.
"Then how will I know?"
Then an arrow- straight reply.
"You can give me a call at the NTS and come there." That was the Nurses' Training School, the multi-storeyed citadel of desirable spinsters. There was an aura about nurses which attracted males of all descriptions and before whose undefined charms even doctors fell.
Perhaps they represented all that was gentle in womanhood and, at a very vulnerable time, the healing touch of motherhood. But why doctors? Perhaps it was professional affinity, and more, professional proximity. For a nurse to "hook" a doctor was believed to be a good catch.
Some of them, of course, turned out to be monsters, steeped in cruelty and quite capable and competent in the art of murder, even mass murder. An interesting topic for investigation, thought Raj.
Bachelors always buzzed around the NTS like flies around a pot of honey. It was a mutually acceptable arrangement. The girls were always lonely, some coming from distant villages, others away from home for long weeks. The ‘boys' could be anyone, from other honest lonely lads just looking for companionship because the prospect of marriage was remote until the nurses completed their training, to serious boy friends who had an understanding with the girls that they could and would wait till they could marry.
In between the predators, the good time guys and hit and run lovers, married men stationed in the city, also hundreds of miles from home, looking for a little comfort and sleazy consolation.
It was the girls who had to be careful. If they got pregnant they lost their jobs and probably got kicked out of home as well, or faced death through a back alley abortion, or suicide.
Mostly, then, the associations were simple. A chat in the nurses reception rooms: dorms were strictly our of bounds, or a walk along the Galle Face promenade, very demurely, or a couple of hours in a park or a film and perhaps an ice-cream later.
This was in the late fifties, and full-scale promiscuity in public,the unsavoury by-product of full-scale tourism promoted in the seventies, was yet to come. They would indulge in a little more than ice cream by then.
Miss Hapangama left abruptly, her message transmitted. The incident of the pirith thread was apparently forgotten, or at any rate, put away.
The parting was going to be less painful for her coming, and for the promise of meeting her again.
He wondered whimsically what the other patients, especially the Indian Patil Lalchand, would say. Not that it mattered very much after he left. But he felt awkward about it while he remained in the hospital. A few moments later Miss Andradi, the tall dark nurse with the full red lips came in.
"Mr Indra, your bill," she said.
She expressed in her radiance the breath-taking beauty of the countryside. She was part of the lush greenery, the resplendent mornings, the sun-dappled terraced paddy fields, the deep ravines with the rush of running water; and her eyes, her eyes were deep, clear, brown pools of light.
"Thank you," he said, "my father will be here by ten."
She smiled and left. People can be healed by a smile like that, he thought.
His father arrived at 10. Raj was too agitated to notice how happy his father looked. Evidently visitors who were coming to accompany patients out had easy entry. Perhaps they had a pass, Raj never found out. It did not seem necessary since people had other ways of entry as well.
He came carrying a large bag and Raj knew what it contained. Gifts for the matron and the nurses.
They were all neatly packaged, boxes of chocolates for the nurses and a cake for the matron.
Money matters settled, Raj went to the small administration room where the matron had her office and where the nurses sat around when off duty at the ward. It was a pleasant place, or not, depending on the matron. This one was quite unlike the virago Raj first met at his unsuccessful bid to enter.
She was there, and so were Miss Hapangama and Miss Andradi. They had evidently been sharing a joke and their smiling faces greeted him.
The smiles stayed on and grew brighter.
"I came to thank you for everything..." Watch it, Raj, you're getting mushy already, he said to himself.
They saved him. "You have been a very good patient," the matron cut in.
"My mother sent some gifts for you. This is for you, and these..."
Oh, oh, lump in the throat.
He cleared his throat. "Please leave this for Miss Gunawardene..."
A quick glance at Miss Hapangama and he turned round and fled.
Back at the ward, his bags were packed. His father was seated at the edge of his bed, a practice frowned on by the staff. He asked his father for two ten rupee notes.
"I'll be back in a minute," he said.
He sought out the attendants.
He was glad to find Jinasena and Premaratne in their bleak quarters.
"I'm going," he told them. He had the two notes folded in his right palm. He was embarrassed about offering them cash.
Premaratne had been on duty for a while, and his eyes were red. He looked unfeelingly at Raj.
Jinasena was off duty and was preparing to leave.
"Some day we might meet face to face," he said.
"Who knows," said Raj, and then impulsively held the orderly by his shoulders.
The other drew him towards him and held him warmly against him.
"I would like to give you a little gift," Raj said, "if you will accept it."
It was the man called Dracula who spoke, evidently for both.
"No, sir," he said, "not from you."
And he walked away from the room.
Raj returned to the ward, went round the beds and silently shook hands with each patient.
Jayasinghe said, "Come and see me at the ministry. I may be able to give a story or two."
The schoolmaster folded his hands in the traditional manner. "Budusaranan," he said, invoking the blessings of the Buddha on him.
The police officer, as neatly groomed as ever, his silver grey hair framing his splendid head in an incongruous halo, was reading the morning papers.
"You're off, are you? Well, you're welcome at headquarters any time."
"Thanks. I'll see you then."
"Cheers."
He picked up his bag, waved to the others, and went out. He turned round once more and swept the ward with a glance. It rested briefly on the vase of irises at the back of the ward. Another rush of memories – Morrell's optimism, Haniffa's risque songs, the Indian's bashfulness, the headman and the soft boiled egg, the midnight feast...
"Just one moment," he told his father.
He dashed up to the next ward and looked round and saw Mr Weerasinghe propped up on pillows, chatting with a nurse.
"I'm off today," Raj told him.
"Poor fellow," he told the nurse. "They won't let him stay. Only I am allowed to stay here as long as I like. If I go they won't be able to run this place..."
His clothes were not in place and Raj noticed the pathetic plastic bottles with his waste resting on either side of his stomach.
"What'll they do without you?" he said, and bit his lower lip. "I'll come and see you soon."
"You rascal, you'll be coming to see the nurses," he chuckled.
Raj grinned and left.
As they left the hospital premises, the sounds and sparkle of life greeted him. It felt like coming out of a long tunnel.
He felt he could breathe more easily. The colours seemed more vivid, the vendors' cries more strident.
The birds in the flamboyant trees chirruped cheerfully.
Raj's father hailed a taxi and they got in. Soon they were speeding through the hum and bustle of a work-a-day traffic. Familiar stores, junctions, landmarks passed by.
He felt light, unbearably free.
He was going home.
He was alive.
Chapter 42
Home cooking never tasted better. His mother, an exceptionally gifted cook, excelled herself to please him. And not only that. Cooking, with her, was a mode of expression. She was demonstrating in the lavishness and variety of her dishes the exuberance of her delight. She cooked with the most basic equipment. The oven in which she baked the most fragrant cakes, the crispest biscuits, was a large modified kerosene can, with sand on the bottom and sand on top, fired from above and below by heat-retaining coconut shells. The heated sand gave off an even heat.There were few labour-saving devices in the Sri Lankan kitchen of the fifties, and they were to be seen only in the homes of the wealthy.
The home of the Indras was far from wealthy.
And yet people who had dined in the best restaurants of Europe, England and the United States had declared, quite sincerely, that some of her dishes excelled those.
It was hard to realise he was back home. He woke in the night and waited to hear hospital sounds, to see beds beside and before him. In the afternoons and evenings, the clanging of the bells attached to carts carrying kerosene startled him into reminders of the visiting hours.
Old familiar ways returned quietly and supplanted the memories of the past fortnight.
But with all that, the tug was there.
The stay at the hospital had left deep impressions. They would never leave him. Unlike all other experiences which dwell in the subconscious anyway, these were self-consciously accepted and deliberately recorded impressions.
There was a part of him that sought completion in a revival of the hospital experience. Meeting hospital contacts was one such means.
Part of the therapy recommended was walking to strengthen the abdominal muscles.
Raj met Patil Lalchand every evening at the Vihara Maha Devi Park to walk, and talk. He had to take a taxi each way each evening to do this.
The park was in the heart of Colombo's wealthiest suburb. But perhaps the people who frequented it least were its residents. For to be there would be to jostle with the lower rungs of society, even, as the rich would reckon, the dregs.
It was a stately park with stately trees, a large pond and fountains playing. University students liked to study in its shady nooks. Families came there in the evenings and children played on the swings and see-saws and merry-go-rounds.
Patil was not even remotely the kind of companion Raj would have chosen but he represented part of the tug. To be with him was to be reminded of the pleasant aspects of his stay in hospital.
In the two hours they spent each evening they talked banalities. Patil's conversation consisted mostly of questions designed to elicit information of a personal nature. Ordinarily Raj would have avoided such company.
Every now and then they visited Ward 37 and met some of the nurses. One of them observed: "Other patients are not seen once they leave the hospital."
Raj had grinned back: "These patients are like leeches."
They returned to see the schoolmaster and Jayawardene before they left, took down addresses, promised to keep in touch by letter, by phone, visit each other. It was like the aftermath of a pleasant holiday. Some bonding had taken place.
Going through the long corridors of the hospital and past other wards, Raj would sometimes catch a glimpse of a nurse who had served in Ward 37. He would pause and exchange a greeting or stop sometimes for a few minutes. There was something warming in the spark of recognition in the eyes of those who, up till then, had been liveried impersonalities. They now had names, identities, there was a relationship of some sort. Raj felt extensions of himself, completions in an area he never knew there would be such promise. But then, that's me, he thought. Every person I meet, however casually, holds the promise of a resumption and an extension. One of his firmly-held tenets was that there were no chance meetings at all. Every one had significance.
(c) E.C.T. Candappa
(Continued tomorrow)
