Nationalism has a prize *

SriLanka is a beautiful country. Well, I know this comment is very common and offended. But we are a wonderful country. Fortunate. I am serious. Not trying to be rhetoric or poetic. No exaggerations for God’s sake. I mean every word.

Let me say this. We have all the needed things. For instance rivers, streams, waterfalls and every other resource which gives us water. We produce our own water. We have a fine climate where no one can experience elsewhere. It doesn’t snow here. It’s a plus point. No transport hazards, no snow gales, people won’t suffer from unbearable cold temperatures. And still there is a chance of experiencing the cold weather and to get away from the dust and heat if you travel to Nuwara Eliya. Then we have places which are not so cold and no so hot. There is Indian Ocean giving life to all fishermen , helping sea transport, helping to carry cargo and reminding us of vulnerabilities , destruction and demise  in life , like the sea wave that is calm once but disturbed , troubled and anguish another time. Our country is a melting pot of different cultures, customs, traditions and languages. We have a rich history of a west – east mix. There is magnificent archaeology starting from temples to monarchs, Hindu Kovils, mosques and museums .And not to forget the rich bio diversity and Eco- systems which ranges from thick jungles like Sinharaja to Horton plains, marshes and mangroves. We have Youth who are politically awake. I think this is more than enough for a nation to be proud of.

Oh wait! We need good leaders. Good governance will lead to prosperity. Even successful and happy people.

This country has gone through all kinds of terror even after Independence. We thought that having a State Council to represent the majority Sinhalese and the minority Tamils will strengthen the unity. But things changed. The natural outcome of colonialism devised 'kalu suddhas' , the 'English educated' , wealthy  and classy people . The State Councils only had the English educated officers. English education was ardently desired for public service. To the minority Tamil population this rule didn't affect much. Tamils took readily to western education.Thus a greater proportion of Tamils held pensionable public service posts by then. The Judicial Service included two thirds as many Tamils as Sinhalese. With Independence , the westernized middle -class politicians came into undisputed powers. The Sinhalese  traditions were onslaught. With English as a language of administration , people found themselves aliens to the Government. They thought they were blocked by the Government functioning. A greater number of difficulties were faced by Tamils and Sinhalese when filling licence permits , petitions , appeals and even to work on court proceedings . English wasn't enough to satisfy the people. It did not diffuse to every village and town. Concern over language rather became a major political issue.

I never saw these tantrums. I was born only after the damage.  I know that lots of damage has happened. These are facts for me.

Sinhalese self awareness rose. That was in 1950’s.The elements of Sinhalese awakening include Bandaranayke’s 'Swabhasha movement'. There was a heavy demand for 'swabhasha' or the ' peoples own language'.There was a greater need to protest against the inequalities resulting from linguistic and educational bifurcation in this country.

Language is a fundamental for Nationalism. It’s a demarcation to identify a community.

A week ago, I had  a short conversation about Jeremy Bentham’s view on Utilitarianism. Utalitarians believe  that humans are influenced by pleasure and pain. To rephrase it better, it says that the law should ultimately benefit the society and people’s wills, that it should provide the greatest happiness to the greatest of people. Soon after the chat, a colleague seated next to me questioned, if the law to make Sinhala the official language in this country truly benefited and wouldn’t have it oppressed the Tamils. It means the law did not make people happy. 

I had my take. My true feelings over her question were these.

Nationalism has a prize. Bandaranayake was a true democrat. His efforts to bring the swabhasha gave a great deal of opportunity for both Sinhalese and Tamils to perceive better jobs. Mostly in public service. University education and schools which were only for the elite later catered all Sinhalese and Tamils.  Education got widespread because fees weren’t levied unlike English schools that charged a fee, which wasn’t affordable to many people in this country. Swabhasha movement drew strength from the earlier Sinhalese national resurgence, which had sentimental attachment to Sinhalese language and Sinhalese cultural heritage to the distinguishing attribute of a national group. As a result, the so called aristocracy in this country was destroyed. Elitism was broken and a middle class emerged. The middle class became the hub between elite and poor, not so rich and not so poor. They won ‘education for all’ and ‘jobs for many’. We got to take free education seriously. I am a beneficiary of free education and many of us. Even today, the government spends a lot on it. We are literate than many others in Asia. These are true gifts of Nationalism.

The kindling of Sinhalese awakening was not necessarily antagonist towards Tamil and other minorities. I think. It is this Sinhalese uniqueness thing. What they wanted was to build solidarity among the Sinhalese. But they went wrong in the triumph of Sinhalese – only. May be they thought it is the right thing at that time. Sinhala was made the only official language, even though Tamil was later made a medium of instruction. I think they should have made both Sinhala and Tamil the official languages that time. Things would have changed then.

 Sometimes Politicians are also helpless.

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Afterthoughts from Noon Tide toll by Romesh Gunasekara *

‘I fetched out my I-love Munchen lighter. A present from Mrs. Klein, who came down here last month looking for sun, samadhi and plush aromatherapy after her Vanni One project in the north. I had been planning to give up smoking, but it was so nice of her that I have delayed the quit-plan and started a pure air deficit plan. And I like the idea of carrying a flame in my pocket”

See, it’s not time to quit but rather have a fresh slate. Like Vasantha did. Sometimes we feel that we have nowhere to go, but keep rolling under stars. There is hope, some hope that things will change someday like Romesh says. We have paid a heavy toll, to both North and South. And now living through broken memory, trying to mend things. Along the southern coast there is still debris of Tsunami, even after so many years of that Boxing Day in 2004 when the tide played hell. It may sometimes frighten us to think whether we can totally get rid of that monstrous past. Because still the scars are left . For some the future is another country, like for the boy Vasantha meets in the Jaffna library, who reads Dante, learns Italian and make plans to go to Italy. Because a thirty year war has left no good future but damaged hearts and lost roots.

Romesh Gunasekara’s Noontide Toll is a collection of many stories of post war in this country. Vasantha took me miles passing Killinochchi and Omanthai upto Jaffna and a right turn from its tip to Delft and Kayts islands. Then back to Galle fort, the lighthouse and the Dutch ramparts where rich history is still alive. At least there is old brick and structure remaining, let’s say. Vasantha being the protagonist and the narrative, is a retired worker from a Corporation, unmarried and prefers to rest his hands on a steering wheel. He is not the guy who likes to stay behind a desk. He buys a Van for himself with his savings and works as a Driver for hire in SriLanka. He ferries Entrepreneurs, charity workers, playboys across Europe and people from wayfaring families around the country. For Vasantha there is much to learn from the eye of a visitor. He is born after a lot of damage that took place in 80’s. There is lack of knowledge and curiosity that Romesh loads in Vasantha. To us there is history that can be easily grabbed from him. Vasantha is packed with every tit bit about the uncertain lives, terrorized by the lived long war.   

There are things that we don’t like to speak of, we carefully try to forget, places that we don’t like to stray into. Every one of us has a private past; we are a store of thoughts, feelings and sensations. Things we have gone through more than decades can possibly hurt. No matter the new buildings, paved roads, new houses, clean water or everything else new we get .Romesh, in that case brilliantly depicts the true catastrophe, the fear mingling minds, misfortunes and scattered future running through new roads in Jaffna. The general psychology of men left in war is deeply moving and inspiring. Romesh is effortlessly successful in bringing out the human vulnerability.

Miss Saraswati is a phenomenal character in his collection.

Saraswati sits with her legs crossed in the main balcony of the hotel. Bent down. When she straightened up again, she has something in her hand , looks like a revolver but when clicked there is a beam of light that runs along the fence at the end , sweep around the pond . The light is steady as a military searchlight. She switches it off then. It’s darker than ever again.

Romesh illustrates the distress and horror that is still lingering within. There is uncertainty, whether a man with gun will appear the next moment. Vasantha is often alarmed by the dead blackness that covers Jaffna soon as twilight arrives, unlike Colombo. Vasantha confesses that the drivers’ rooms in Spice Garden Inn has something prison –like in the air. Though they look harmless. Even rice is felt like eating pebbles. Everything is rough and rubble like. There are remnants of a thirty decade war. Still hanging. Romesh’s diction is enough convincing to outline the struggle to get away from the phantoms of the troublesome past.

Vasantha and his van become significant. Symbolic perhaps. Vasantha travels from Mullativ to Jaffna, to Killinochchi, then to Galle and back again to Jaffna. He is overwhelmed by different encounters of people. Romesh Gunasekara is subtle enough to bring a van down and  to portray  the whole scene on a journey where some meet with collisions, some gets bumped off and some getting off the ride knowing that where they are heading can be wrong.

Youthful lust is dragged in and left in corners. For Soldiers, it’s fucking in a coffin. There are walls built and jumping over them is hard at times. Love is impossible when it is the enemy. Especially when you try to cross a border which was once built to protect yourself. Walls are walls, human heart is something else. Human heart will never know what a wall is and vice versa. Sometimes keeping one ignorant about ‘some’ things is better than revealing the truth. There is no more war. No enemies. But truth hurts. And hearts can drift sooner.

Romesh knows it.

All over he voices through Vasantha if the past should be kept aside, whether it should be buried and begin building a new future. But the question is, should one know the past to not to let things happen again like it did?

He is vague though. Anyway highways are coming up. No curfew. No roadblocks. Traveling is easier than before. Locals are often making trips to north. Mahen’s father thinks of settling back in Jaffna in his childhood home after spending many years in Colombo. Residues are altered into Guest houses. There is anticipation left for the Nation.

There are roads in both dismal and cheer, poignant and heart rending.

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If Happiness Happens

Photo Courtesy - www.grassroots.org

This August somethings are going to get better for some people. It is not because it’s August. Life has lots of months that are not August. So when August comes, it is like that for everyone. “August is the best month for me always in my life... Let it get better this time,” one of my friends added.

My ‘these days’ are heart threatening days, colorless days.  There is absence. A lot of window gazing. I count each rain drop that falls, wishing that a happy day will come. Surviving 12 months is hard. They are almost the same. It’s all about exams, mostly, one after the other. That’s too much to think about.

I was left with a comment by my friend.

‘You are depressed. Don’t hate August when all months are the same for you. Exams are a decision you have taken in life. The month is not to be blamed’

There were tears running down my cheeks. Grief isn’t shared. Only happiness is shared. There was a happy smile at the end of her comment. I knew I‘ve got to tackle the rest. She is right, I think.

There is trouble in my happiness department and I’ve got to sort out things.

The word ‘happiness’ is confusing. We find happiness in different ways. There is happiness in food we eat, a drink that we have, a dress we like or a place we like to visit. Happiness can be just a vehicle that we drive, a pet dog, a cat, a glass of wine, sometimes a cigarette, a book or at least, a little break or sleep. These are simple things that satisfy us.

Happiness is a pursuit. Does happiness actually matter? Happiness is a tremendous advantage in the world. It improves performance and achievement. On average when people are happy about what they do, they get better performance reviews and satisfaction in every way, whether it’s a job done or the social life. It is not justifying things to the world. Plenty of parents see a meaningful life defined by accomplishments and success, not happiness and positive emotions. Money, power, status quo or a way of living is action. They are not the real feelings that make one happy. Only you will know what makes you happy. Once you reach that world you need, life is peaceful and better.

Naturally, when we become lonely, we start pondering over cracks and broken shutters. The daybreak is the ideal time that wakes up all demons. It’s by night we see our true desires. Night is when we plan what is really needed to be done to find happiness. It’s when we form profound hatred over people who have hurt us. It’s a time we choke on tears and have deep sobs that the rest of the world will never know. But the dark pillow cases will.Happiness matters. It makes living worthwhile, instead of loathing life. It adds purpose to life whereas unhappiness makes you feel that you are just a piece of wood floating on water. It’s empty.

Happiness for me is always the momentary things shared with people I meet every hour and everyday. Some people become the most wanted in life, because their caress has terribly orphaned in the most needed times. And those moments spent become happiness. Sometimes we crave for more. It’s a combination of knowing and adoring. I like to call it that way. Finding the people with whom we like to be is critical for our ultimate happiness. If we cannot reach the people we like, in least romanticizing such relationships is important.

I think. Happiness isn’t a frivolous notion. It is an important thing we have to foster in ourselves, because it contributes to every other thing we do in life, like academic and professional accomplishments.

Featured in "The Nation " newspaper on 10th August 2014

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'Yaksha Sutra'

We pretend to be ‘arahats’. In an instant we fail. There is hatred stored in corners of hearts. We always carry chips on shoulders. The difference is the degree to which anger heightens. There is a Yaka (in other words ‘devil’) within you. Even me.  A little less than a monstrous face, hairy bodies with long, sharp teeth. Ah, and big ears too! Wait, but their gleaming red eyes can resemble us at times. We are full of bloodlust like yaka.  In Hindu mythology, Yaksha is an unrighteous spirit. A mythology that made its way to other religions. Later, Yakshas was incorporated into Buddhism.

The balsa -like wood of Goda Kandura was shaped into Devils. They hang on lines and walls of shops with lolling tongues and popping eyes along the streets in Ambalangoda. They frightened me when I was a kid. As a habit I use to cover my eyes when passing these carnivorous creatures along the Galle Road. Over the centuries, yakkas and rakshas often lurked. As kids we’ve been threatened that devils will eat us if we do bad. Masks evolved in differing mask drama too.

Time and legend tells us about demon worshippers who conquered a part of this island. Rakshas were more mythical. They were shape changers. After the disappearance of yakkas and rakshas, early tales tell how inhabitants worshipped trees believing that yakshas and rakshas are living in trees.

I remember, a devil’s mask was hung just above the entrance to my uncle’s house in Rathnapura. On a rain threatening day, I got scared by the yakka spirit that hung on wall, which flared like fire just as a lightening strucked. The tusks that protrude from his upper lips terrified me. It was a wet April. Everybody who had arrived to Uncle’s place to celebrate Avurudu had fallen into beds. I was left alone in the living room playing.

Pic by Muditha Dilshan

Devil memories are written, to be reclaimed the next time the spirits manifest themselves. I’m still reminded of this whenever I visit Uncle in Rathnapura. I learned that devils were a living tradition, hung in houses to prevent danger and for protection.  Yakun natima or devil dance is not something designed to entertain. It’s a carefully crafted ritual that runs back to histories even before the existence of Buddhism in this country. There is disease causation and Ayurveda concepts combined with devils. Lasting up to twelve hours, it mixes inharmonious humor with deep rooted fears and anxieties to create a healing catharsis for both patient and community.

Twelve’o clock strikes. Crowd gathers. There is fire lighting the earthen arena. There is patient dazed with some psychological trauma or illness, mostly which cannot be cured. The drum beats , beats and beats again. Thick smoke rises. The devil enters the patient. The patient swirls and swings .Hands up. Screams and mourns. The drum beat intensifies. It is the mask or vesmuna that heightens the fear of both patient and audience. To the Sinhalese this disfigured, terrifying face represents both cause and cure. The traditional Ayurveda  studies state that illness and mental trauma is a result of demons that enter bodies and the devils can be summoned and expelled with the mask dance.

Cosmology of traditional SriLankan beliefs is a complex mixture of native vedic gods , spirits and demons , overlaid with imported Hindu and Buddhist deities , beliefs and practices .The foreground of all demons is a spiritual landscape where Buddha resides supreme . The day to day is a fight with danger from the yakku ( devils) and other malignant forces which seem to afflict man with  quarrels of every kind. In this world , life is nothing but a constant struggle against such demons.

Focusing this thinking , devil dances cure disease , help failing crops , prevent droughts , help troubled pregnancies . It moves through village and woods , where the threats of animals are resembled to the terror of devils and demons.

Science is growing taller. Devils and demons are now away from our popular consciousness.  Even villagers depend on English medicine and prescription. Masks in Ambalangoda  are only  a  showcase for tourists and outsiders who read the potency , vitality and the artistic aspect of kolam anddaha ata sanni yakku.

A photograph which I came across in Facebook took me back to my childhood rescues from  the vesmuna and yakku natima  which I have only pictured through books and TV. 

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ජීවිතේ කඳු සිරස උසයි ඈතයි

වහින ඉල් වැහි 

සුසුම් පොඟවයි

දුකම අවැසිව 

ලය රිදුම් ගෙන දේ 

භව කතර ඉම 

දුර බව හැඟෙ 

ජීවිතේ කඳු සිරස 

උසයි ඈතයි 

-මෙලෝ රහක් නැති ජීවිතේ රසවිතක් සොයා යන මම

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Like naked like wall-less

Drop the towel!

Being naked is the best feeling ever. Rather than to get covered with cotton and linen. Not only that, it is sexier. There is comfort. Naked time is good. There are things we like to do naked. To share each other’s flaws and just do what we like. When things come in ‘open,’ love giving is easier. To remove clothes off is a has-to-be done thing when it comes to love, I think. The more we peel out things, rip things off, the lighter we become and less complicated, hardly anything to cling on. This is what the enlightened one has taught us.

But to be naked on social media? Something is fishy.Just as I started my second year in university, I decided to drop Chinese and instead picked three modules each from Mass Communication, Marketing Management and Human Resources Management. A week ago, I sat for the second paper in Mass Communication. The very first question was to do some serious discussion. It reads as following;

“To what extent social media helps day-to-day communication, politics and socio-economic development? Do you think social media is doing bad than good? Critically discuss along with examples.”In a parallel universe, no university student would it expect critical discussions or ‘new’ questions to appear on a paper. A little change can create rages. Social media was never taught and no such question appeared in last semester’s paper. Neither in 2013. It is unfair. This was the common feeling once the paper was done.

It was too funny to me. Even those who have nothing to say about social media are spending more than half a day on Facebook. Everyday people waste time to make sure that democracy is rooted properly. Everyday they worry about the state’s structure. Nobody will like to break the continuity and try something new. Anyway we’ve got to live with these lunatics and vandals. A change is a difficult thing in our society. Same with these question papers. Students like ‘ragged’ questions. Never mind. As long as we can pass, let’s say. But it’s good when things get real in exams.

This question took me back to the days of Aluthgama, the Bodu Bala Sena, Sharpova and even reminded me of President Mahinda Rajapaksa. We know how to troll and to keep trolling safe. There are enough and more funny pictures and memes full of satire about Ministers and President that go viral on social media. But hardly war is raged in public. We don’t know if personal attacks happen outside social media. But there is a less possibility. Almost every President and Minister on Earth now uses Twitter and Facebook. It has become an ‘online parliament’ to pass laws, amend laws or to repeal them. We are all altered into instant critiques, watching fights and creating fights about pictures and statuses.

Social media is so popular that it even goes finding personal routines ranging from celebrities to the average citizen. Ever wondered about celebrities and reputed idols giving birth to sons and daughters? Their dieting schemes? What they do on weekends? How many girlfriends? How many exes? People are keen and happy to know about these. We have reached a point where we make others know how we feel, what we watch, eat, read or where we are and what we are up to in an instant.

We live at a time where one updates on Facebook ‘in a relationship’ today and tomorrow it turns up ‘single’. They even verify for robots, especially when dealing with passwords, surprisingly. Facebook and many other social networks have conquered our lives, histories and private stuff. They have their policies to own the data we feed on these sites. Even photographs.

Privacy is invaded. Still anybody can look for you. Anybody can view you being tagged or what you share despite the privacy settings available. They will show for how long you have been active online, the time you saw the message or whether it was unread.

Social media lets people around to have a close eye on us. We don’t like being watched by others. There are things we don’t like to talk about. We all prefer to have something only for us, unless we feel comfortable to share them with another. But more or less social media has taken all control that unthinkingly we give information out.

Many who are a part of social media are naked. A few will know to shut their mouth and keep the private things private.Gates and walls are useless. More or less we are wall-less in social media. We welcome thieves willingly. So it’s ok. Even the wall around National Archives Building in Colombo has been taken off. No more cage-like buildings. Looks nicer than it was. Yet social media will require steady and strong gates.

Cables are too mainstream to share information so fast. Especially things we don’t like to make public. Only if there is a network breakdown, you are lucky then.

Featured in "The Nation" newspaper on 3rd August 2014

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For You

This is for you, 

for your breath, 

whose absence 

makes heart grow fonder 

in colour ,

in picture,

in words, 

textures,

wind,

rain,

the clouds,

the sun sucked by sea wave,

and candles nodding in dark.

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