Introduction.
Vannathikulam, my short novel, was initially jotted down as notes when I had just been initiated into the Veterinary Profession, and later worked at Medavacchiya from 1980 to 1983.The events I saw and experienced formed the nucleus around this short novel, which was written fifteen years later in Tamil. The events visited by me in this short novel were between 1980 and 1983, and these are three important years for those who are bent on writing Sri Lankan history.
During my work, I visited the Sinhala village’s border with the Tamil areas of the North and East. Many incidents that occurred during my stay at Medawachiya deeply affected me and left indelible marks on my memory.
The Sri Lankan racial riots of July 1983 were not accidental. or spontaneous. It was meticulously planned and carried out by many politicians of that era. Seeds of discord sown in the early 1980 resulted in the pogrom of 1983 and subsequent armed violence. .
Although politicians among all communities followed the policy divide and rule for their benefit, ordinary people went on with their day-to-day work without racial differences. I, too, during this time lived and worked among humble Sinhalese folks through sheer necessity
This novel is an admixture of true events and a fictional love story where two souls from different ethnic background fall in love and want to live in a bond while overcoming many problems arising through ethnicity
I am very grateful to Mr K Kumarasamy, , for translating my original Tamil novel into English. He is equally at home in both English and Tamil. He has already translated many works from Tamil to English and vice versa.
I am indebted to my friend DBS Jeyaraj, a renowned political commentator and regular contributor to newspapers, for kindly writing a foreword to my book, as he had already done for my Tamil Version.
I would like to thank Ambi Ambikaibalar going through the manuscript and helping with many suggestions.
I am wish to express thanks to Lionel Bopage for kindly writing a forward and comments
I am also grateful to Mr. HLD Mahidapala, one-time editor, Sunday Observer, Sri Lanka for giving final touches to the manuscript and valuable comments, and his act of generosity is not easily forgotten
Chapter One
Medawachchiya
The Yarldevi train crowd had eased at Vavuniya. It was not troublesome to get down at Medawachchiya railway station. I had luggage in both hands, but I was able to get down from the train on to the platform without any inconvenience to other passengers. Only five passengers got down at Medawachchiya. They had only hand luggage and appeared to be in a hurry. I was able to understand that they were Government employees.
I walked slowly while looking at them. Only one of them smiled at me. I did not know whether the others were worried about some domestic problem or they had some anxiety over the two holidays that lapsed in the weekend. Their faces showed signs of tenseness.
I decided to talk to the person who smiled at me and introduced myself. “I am Sooryan. I have come to Medawachchiya as a Veterinary Surgeon.”
“Nice to meet you. My name is Suppiah. I am working as a clerk in the Labour Office.”
“This is my first appointment.”
“Oh! I see.”
Both of us got into a bus.
“Mr. Suppiah! Can I find a place here to stay?”
“You can stay at our Government Quarters. I will meet you in the evening. You see the Veterinary Office over there,” said Mr. Suppiah walking towards his office.
Mr. Samarasinghe greeted me at the entrance to the office. He must have guessed that I am the newly appointed Veterinary Surgeon. Both us went inside the office. Two employees, Menike and Jeyawathy, also welcomed me.
I spoke to them in the ‘Sinhala’ that I knew and took my seat. While I was attending to some files and letters, Samarasinghe gave me a lunch parcel. I took it and thanked him. After having lunch I felt relaxed and comfortable. Several thoughts crossed my mind.
I was born in the Jaffna Peninsula, and I had my education too in Jaffna. I had no opportunity to familiarize with the Sinhalese people. While studying in college, I heard about students being victimised by the introduction of language-biased standardisation by the Government, I started to hate Singhalese. I showed my hatred by showing defiance at several places. However, when I went to the University I was able to understand certain aspects better. I understood that the pressures of politics were different from Governmental rule.
Medawachchiya was an electorate where Singhalese farmers lived. When I got into the train I had in mind my father’s advice to work very carefully with the Singhalese.
In due course of time, I inquired about the employees in the office. Menike came to the office daily fromAnuradhapura. She dressed according to the Kandyan custom. This was more attractive than the way the low-country Singhalese dressed.
“Menike! Are you married?” I asked her casually.
“Not yet,” she answered shyly. Jeyawathy was about 40 years of age and she had two children.
Samarasinghe was a jolly good fellow. He spoke very freely. I heard that he got married very recently.
I came out of the office at about 4.00 p.m. The sun was bright. I saw Mr.Suppiah coming towards my office. I took my bags and walked towards him. He took me to the government quarters.
The government quarters consisted of several rooms. I saw many slippers lying in the portico. Mr.Suppiah took me inside the quarters and showed me a room that was allocated to me.
After keeping the bags in the room, I came out., Three inmates came to me and introduced themselves.
“I am Rukman, working in the Ceylon Transport Board,” said one. He looked like a college student.
“I am Gamini and I am attached to the Irrigation Department,” said a short person.
“I am Gunadasa, working in the Public Works Department,” said a middle-aged person.
While we were talking, Rukman went towards the kitchen saying that it was his turn to cook. Though he looked like a college student, he showed determination in his voice. Serving me food Rukman said that I was their guest. His cooking was excellent. I thanked him for his superb meal.
A person came hurriedly and said, “ Sir! I am fromDelft.” The moustache and holy ash on his forehead showed that he was a Tamil. His name was Ragavan. Later I came to know that Ragavan and Suppiah were the only Tamils who lived in the Quarters.
Continues
http://www.asiantribune.com/node/5897
http://www.geotamil.com/pathivukal/kss_on_nadesan_book.htm
http://tamilweek.com/news-features/archives/988
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