Aiming Fiction!!

I used to dread the fact that my father was Shankar. To the rest of the world, he was the champion of the Cause in SriLanka. To me, he was the man who used to wake me up in the middle of the night, once in a bluemoon, and give me money to buy sweets.

I was born in Dangyuppa in SriLanka. I wasn’t allowed to study or play in peace with the rest of the neighbourhood boys, as I had to play the real game of dodging bullets and bombs to stay alive.

When I turned 10, I was suddenly smuggled by a group of people in the middle of the night to a small boat waiting to take me to Rameshwaram. I knew they were my father’s friends, but my only worry was that my mother was not with me. When I kept crying for her, they told me that she had been killed and that I should leave Dangyuppa immediately or face the same fate.

I will never forget the journey that night, which was going to take me away from my birthplace, my mother, the only entities I owed my existence in the world to.

My mother used to despise the fact that my father used bloodshed to fight for the cause of the Tamils. She used to tell me that when she was a small child, there was hardly any hatred between the native Sinhalese and the Tamils. My mother always blamed politics to be the cause of the mutual hatred the 2 communities.

That night, when I was on that boat, there was just one thing that I was sure of, I would return back one day, suitably armed.

I got enrolled in a refugee school in Salem. That was my first tryst with the outside world. There was so much to learn and to discover. It was then that I understood that knowledge is power and if I had to lead, I had to do it by initiating the change I desire to see.

It used to hurt me to be passive about the injustice, we were subjected to by our matron. There were times, when I used to see sick boys being asked to work even though they could hardly get onto their feet, thanks to the matron, who thought he was King and the rest of us, his slaves. I launched a protest to see to it that he be removed, by getting the children to disobey all his orders. Strangely, I thought I would be the lone fighter, but was surprised by the amount of supporters I had. Though I could always live in the illusion that there were more female supporters than male, I was sure that they were only fighting for their cause. We were rebuked, beaten up, but we never gave up. After 3 long days, we won our battle. We had a new matron!

After my schooling, I knew I wanted to be a teacher, start a school, impart knowledge to those who cant afford the same and enable my people to fight for their rights. If you have ever read of stories of people who work by the night and study by the day,you are talking about me. I will not die the death of a man who did not try enough or give his best shot in pursuing his goal in life.

When I held my degree in hand, strangely enough the only person I thought about was my father. After returning to Dangyuppa, I was told that he was still alive.

When I met him, I hardly felt anything for the man. All I wanted to do was to strike a deal with him. I told him, that I wished to stay in the camp, not as their sympathizer, but as a teacher. I could tell that he was laughing at me. Not that I cared, I was determined.

I started on rather unconventional and shaky grounds.I almost felt like Bhuvan in Lagaan. My first class was held in the open, where I just went around the entire camp, talking about the History in SriLanka. Not that anybody even bothered to listen, probably they didn’t shoot me, as they knew my dad! But thanks to one enthusiastic kid, who came running after me with gun in hand, and asking me if such things actually happened in the past, the entire camp came to a standstill and I knew that this was the moment.

I was threatened to leave. I was asked if my lecture included the facts and figures of the women who had lost their dignity, of the men their families and of the children, their lives.I told them that by returning the atrocities, in all these years, did they gain anything at all? I promised them, then that the whole world would know their story and they would know what the rest of the world was upto!

After making it clear to my fellow campers that I was a non-violent person, I was the unofficial teacher on duty. My lectures catered to space, combustion engines and rockets in male dominated classes and poetry in the female dominated classes. It was a different matter that my classes lasted hardly for a few minutes. But it was a start of sorts.

My next mission was to highlight the cause of my people. The way I saw it, I could see 2 sides fighting the other and causing each other doom. My studies on the Tamil population in Jaffna, showed distressing results.It is not a surprise that we are a minority, but the appalling fact is that we are still a suffering minority, and our rights or the laws against us have not changed in decades. I do not recommend violence to be the solution. I only think that it has only created more damage than good even after all these years. But I don’t understand the government’s agenda. If they want the militants to stop terror, they must root out the cause for such terror.Who would live in a land, where the law is against them, people are against them and where they don’t have the freedom to enjoy a peaceful night’s sleep.

My appeal goes to the international community, the government and to all the people of SriLanka. Help us save our nation. Life is short. Many of us have spent all our lives, away from the solution. Talks, peace treaties and laws come and go. Soldiers come and go. In the midst of it all, I have lost my right to lead a decent life. But I will not stop all of this from ensuring that my people get their rights, where their knowledge would supersede ignorance and their hatred to peace.