A man loved by all

You may have seen air balloons darting in the sky. Bright and pretty. Air balloons have a burner below its envelope. When profane is fueled into the burner, the balloon goes up, up and away. Air balloons fly when hot air rises. Science has taught me that hot air is lighter than cold air, which means it rises. Air balloons fly high and they fall. When balloons are swaying, crosswinds, rain and storms can bring them down. Like air balloons also giants fall. Heroes leave us.

Many Thursdays ago, a giant fell, coming down gently, rocking and looking for his destined destination. Sidewalk signboards, walls and broadways changed for the first time on Friday. This time they lamented.

It read, ‘jaathiyata jeevaya dun sonduru minisaa numbayi’ (you are that beautiful man who reawakened this nation). The other side of the road carried a quote ‘oba paraada natha’ (you haven’t lost). I was on my way to the supermarket. Religious lessons have their variations. A day without wine is a day without sunshine, I thought. All quotes portrayed the ‘respect’ that all Sri Lanka’s people had for this statesman. It also glossed over the boxing days we have had. For thirty decades. And then suddenly the lifetime peace struggle. It didn’t FIT the image that majority had sketched of him during the recent years. 

Yes, he destroyed the LTTE. He built expressways. Constructed walkways. Built markets across the country. But he was a cult leader. They said.

But during later days, soon after elections, it was different. For a moment even Facebook was stocked with posters and images of Mahinda, his sayings and letters of tribute to him. 

Maithri won the presidential elections. There was enough sing song about winning. On the main street men, in shorts, who were passing groceries and fashion boutiques, lit firecrackers. It’s the practice, when someone wins or when something ‘new’ arrives. Like New Year it was a new regime. These incidents also give us a reminder that Sri Lanka has not always been as peaceful as it’s today. 

There was a divergence in views of the old, who once voted for the opposition, and the young, who have only heard of New Democracy recently in their lifetime. 

‘It’s really sad,’ I heard an older fellow say in a shop. 

‘Mahinda was a rare politician. I don’t think there is no person who wouldn’t like him.’

Some want him back. Just to make sure that the country is in safe hands. Born a few years before me, a friend said she wants no war. She thinks if Mahinda remained, it would have been great. But down the road some others had a different talk on Mahinda.

‘There was a time when people thought he is a harsh, oppressive politician. Now they think he is God’

Someone else confirmed that he was no ordinary man, but a statesman. He was a good leader. And then he changed, someone said adding, “but you have to obey the law in land. No one should act according to his whims and fancies.’

 

There was a time when people were dismayed by our political leadership. Some wished they were born in India, where there was a greater struggle. Some idealism. Gandhi. Bose. You know, those men who worked for their country. We have been having lackeys. Everyone wanted to be the Head Boy in the government. They lacked vision. I remember someone telling me that he wished Ven. Sobitha was a Statesman. 

But Mahinda went into greater lengths. We won against terrorism. And it made the country open to all Sinhalese, Tamils and Muslims and every other community in the island. This won over many distrustful politicians. Won against international politics. Mahinda was exceptional. A good orator. A fine, well tuned persuader. He knew the art of compelling. He knew how and well to address his people. 

Breaking up is not just about giving up a person whom you have loved. Love broken isn’t cold and heartless always. A break up does not make you run around easily and move with another. There is chance that you will stick around the same person again. And leaders are loved.  Even after they are gone.

The politically vocal are adored. They keep leaders on a pedestal, trusting and agreeing with them to make the right decisions for you. There is love in politics. And there are sensual leaders. The more we love, the more we want them. This is why I think love poetry often carries a sense of belongingness. Like ‘Oba mage, maa obe’  (you are mine – and I’m yours).

Two days ago I thought for myself, “there are no songs saying Chandrika is ours, or we are for Chandrika. But Mahinda, certainly is for us.” Love needs no publicity. Still Mahinda is owned. He is claimed by some, kissed by many and loved by all.

Courtesy - 'The Nation' newspaper , 1st March 2015 titled 'An ordinary man loved by all'