Professional Manners

Every week I write about something that rankles me. Yes, I am a grumpy person (no, not really).  So here’s this week’s dose of griping:

Ever wondered why manners came into being? It’s because of people who don’t have the common sense to behave in a way that will not annoy or inconvenience those around them. Yes, manners differ according to cultural contexts but ‘good manners’ as a concept evolved universally for that reason alone. Some people simply don’t have the sense, sensitivity or lack of selfishness to not literally or figuratively step on another’s toes without those cultural injunctions.

Of course, over time, some of those ‘good manners’ became institutionalized in certain sections of society which then becomes a stick to beat someone else with. “Gasp, you used the third fork instead of the second one for that course. You bumpkin.”

Er…  No! That’s not what good manners are about. Making another person feel inadequate or out of place is in fact bad manners!

Rules on etiquette go a long way back. Right back to the start of human civilization in fact. Soon after they started cooking their meals instead of eating them raw, some of the more finicky cavemen noticed that a few of their brethren were still tearing, chomping and gulping their food in a most unbecoming manner. So they evolved some ‘table manners’, or rather cave floor manners, to ensure harmony. That way, spat out bones and skin didn’t fall on another person’s body, grossing him out or making him reach for his club to settle the issue. Makes perfect sense and all to the good.

Only each generation feels the need to ‘improve’ on its predecessor’s and so after several thousand generations of human ‘civilization’ now, we have a number of absurd rules on ‘good manners.’ They are extensive enough to fill books. Several in fact, and they have been filled; if ever you have read any of these you would know – most of it is utter rubbish.

Down the line of human evolution, good manners have evolved from common sense to nonsense.

Just for an example, I am a teetotaller so I don’t particularly care if it’s a red wine glass or white wine glass I am drinking from – especially as what I am likely to be drinking from it is orange juice. And if that offends your fine sense of ‘manners’, well tough.  If as is more likely, you are going to use the opportunity to smirk at me for not knowing my ‘fine dining’ etiquette, even more tough.

I believe in good manners yes but I believe those manners are defined by not annoying / upsetting other people unnecessarily; not by some arbitrary rules dreamt up by some jobless aristocrats, especially aristocrats from a completely alien culture and then imposed on us. So go ahead and judge me. I am judging you too.

Anyway, to get back to my original point…

Every culture evolves etiquette rules according to its environment and needs. And so there is a whole ‘office culture’ out there with certain rules on etiquette to make colleagues and visitors comfortable.

• Rule No 1

If someone walks into your office and you happen to be the only one in, you don’t ignore the visitor and go on chattering on your phone for hours on end. It is bad enough if it is an important professional call you are on; you could after all smile politely at the visitor and indicate to him / her to have a seat in the meantime. But it is very much worse when your giggling and coy remarks to the party on the other end indicates to the visitor  that you are very much on a personal call – on the office telephone during office hours.

I don’t think anyone should have to actively teach anyone this basic piece of office etiquette but since I have run into this problem again and again, in places ranging from bank managers’ and doctors’ offices to minor staff working in my own place of work, let me lay it out for you:

You can’t completely ignore visitors to your office just because you are on a call!

I simply can’t understand how bank managers and private hospital doctors got to their positions if they displayed this kind of attitude throughout their careers. You might expect this behaviour from giggly young freshers using the office telephone to take free calls to their significant others, but well placed professionals?

And that by the way is by no means an excuse for the giggly young fresher. Please perk up or somewhere down the line you will pay for it. Not all visitors are meek enough to put up with it. As a matter of fact, many of them are not. You just might get away with it as a bank manager but it is very unlikely the same leeway will be accorded to a young receptionist.

Let me share with you the story of one of my friends who was taken on as ‘front office staff’ by a private corporation too cheap to employ a separate receptionist. The innovative designation meant that she had all the normal duties of a receptionist in addition to being an all-round girl Friday.

The other thing about cheap companies is that they don’t provide orientation programs or training courses for young school leavers. So there you are fresh out of school, your first salary doesn’t cover your bus fare to work and you are in a whole new environment with no guidelines whatsoever on what the etiquette expected is.

You will learn ‘on the job’ though. That’s the Sri Lankan way. As soon as you do something you shouldn’t have, your boss or an office senior will yell at you in front of as many people as possible and then it will register with you in a way that you will never make the mistake again. That’s management, Sri Lankan style.

If you are a Business Management or Human Resources student reading this and thinking, “Hey hold on, that’s not how it works,” throw your text books away and trust me. That is how it works in most places here. Managers might prefer international qualifications over local ones but what happens in office, including management styles is quintessentially Sri Lankan.

So to get back to my friend’s story, she was answering a call when a visitor walked in. Both answering calls and greeting visitors was part of her job.

She had been told that much. Hooray for clear cut guidelines. What she hadn’t been told was what to do when occasions arose for the necessity of doing both at once. Since she was already on the call, common sense might have dictated to her that she smile politely at the visitor, indicate she was busy and gesture him to please take a seat in the meantime.

If the call took too long as this one apparently did, she might have even politely excused herself to the caller to ask the visitor what he needed. However as the wise Voltaire noted, “Common Sense is not so common.”

Hence she completely ignored the visitor, an important looking elderly man for the next 10 minutes, as she concentrated on the call. The visitor turned out to be a VIP, highly regarded by the Managing Director of the company, whom he had come to see on a professional call.

The MD when he came to hear his esteemed visitor had been kept waiting, and even more unforgivably ignored while waiting, flew through the roof. There are many people out there who will make it into middle age without learning never to ignore this basic piece of office etiquette but my friend is not one of them. She came home in tears that day.

Spare the rod and spoil the child, most Sri Lankan parents believe. Most Sri Lankan managers believe the same except that they use verbal rods and their victims are a little more grown up.

Now why do I seem to be advocating this sort of violence (I am not) and what exactly is this rant about?
Well I was kept waiting nearly 20 minutes by some silly girl on the phone, who blithely ignored my presence to flirt with her boyfriend on the other end. It would have been only the work of a few seconds to attend to me. All she needed to do was give me directions to a certain senior person’s office in the building and I am still smarting with annoyance over the incident.

What was that? It’s not polite to rant this much over a minor incident? Especially to people who have nothing to do with it?

Well, I never was good at remembering all those rules on etiquette.

Jaffna during the ’83 Riots

An account of the Four Four Bravo’s Demise in Thirunelvely and how it affected the local people

Many Tamils with horror stories to tell about the 1983 riots usually lived in Colombo at the time. This was where the worst atrocities were committed.

In Jaffna however, where Tamils are the majority, not much violence is related. I being a native of Thirunelvely, Jaffna where it all started, come from one of the very few families that do relate it.

It was in Thirunelvely, just about a half kilometer from my home, that the LTTE killed an Army Patrol setting off the subsequent violence. When the soldiers’ bodies were brought to Colombo, it set off the riots.

I was just two years old at that time and have no memory of those events. But my mother, who was heavily pregnant with my younger sister then, often recalls it with horror. As such, it is an event that is part of my psyche; something I often heard while growing up in the country my parents had relocated to, post the riots. They had grown up in a Sri Lanka they dearly loved but 1983 convinced them that the country, even the mainland of Jaffna was not a safe place for Tamils.

Here in her own words is my mother’s recollection of events, that fateful night and subsequently in Thirunelvely, Jaffna:

“I was eight months pregnant in July 1983. It was my third child and a difficult pregnancy; doctors had warned me not to do anything strenuous or worry unnecessarily. The worry part of it came because my husband had recently gone abroad to work. As a local school teacher, his salary simply hadn’t been enough to support our growing family.

So, five months earlier when I was just three months pregnant, he had gone to the Maldives as the pay was slightly better there. I lived with my old parents and unmarried sister, along with my two young children.

My worries then were simply that of any ordinary housewife; taking care of two very young rambunctious children; raising them more or less alone because my husband was away; worries about money…

The Jaffna I had grown up in was quite peaceful and idyllic. Tensions had officially started with the growth of militancy in 1977 but as at 1983, we were still having normal everyday problems like people in the rest of the country.

I was deeply asleep that fateful night of 23 July when I was woken up by my sister at midnight.  Then I heard it. Explosive sounds like firecrackers going on and on! It carried on for quite some time. We didn’t know what was happening but we were very frightened as we knew of the escalating tension between the militants and the army.

Subsequently, all these sounds – Shells, bombs, gunfire, became very familiar to our ears but this was in the beginning when such noises weren’t the norm and it was terrifying.

There were not many telephones in the area – we didn’t have one. Each house stood on quite a few perches of land, so the neighbours were not within calling distance. We didn’t have the comfort of coming out of our houses and grouping together to know what to do.

The militants had a habit of doing something to the army such as lobbing grenades at them and then running away, usually through the back winding lanes and over house walls. Residents of those houses would have had nothing to do with it, but the army in hot pursuit were known to fire indiscriminately. In previous incidents, quite a few home owners had been fired at, when the army pursued the ‘boys’ by jumping over private property walls.

As such, people thought it was dangerous to be in the house when firing was heard and generally ran out, usually into some back lanes, which our Jaffna villages are full of. It was thought the Army was familiar only with the main roads and so people – and the militants – used the minor dirt lanes to escape trouble.

On that night, my family too decided to follow the same policy. But I was terrified. It was pitch black. The electricity had suddenly gone out and it was months before it came back again. We didn’t have torches or candles (we learnt to equip ourselves with these essentials only later).

You were only two years old and whimpering. Your brother, an inquisitive four year old, was as usual demanding in his characteristic squeaky breathless voice to know what was happening. “What is that noise? Why is it not stopping? Why has the electricity gone? Why are the dogs howling?”

As if the racket from the grenades and gunfire was not enough, all the neighbourhood dogs were howling fearfully. To this day, I don’t like to spend nights in Jaffna, because if some dog takes it into its head to start howling, I wake up with the same panic I felt that day.

On that night, my 73 year old father and I were so frightened that we couldn’t run out to the back lanes immediately. Much to the anxious dismay of my mother and sister, we kept going to the bathroom again and again, sometimes knocking at the door, yelling at the other to come out soon. The fear had loosened our bowels. We were unable to run, much less walk anywhere.

The thoughts going on in all our heads were, “we might be gunned down at any minute now” and it didn’t help that my father and I were holding all the others up as well. Our house was just off the main road and thus situated in a very dangerous spot. Eventually however, we did sneak out the back door into a lane and walked nearly a mile into the interior to get to a relative’s house.

We stayed there the next few days, because it was over those days that the violence occurred. We had run off with only the clothes on our backs and when we ventured out the next day to get some clothes and other essentials, we heard shooting and ran back in.  As it turned out, we were one of the lucky ones to escape unscathed. Quite a few people we knew were killed.

In revenge, the army came firing into homes in Thirunelvely. Both families at home as well as people escaping in the lanes were shot. It gave rise to so many tragedies in the lives of families we personally knew. I still remember the wealthy old gentleman, going around begging people for money, dressed in spotless white veshti and shirt. He became a regular feature in the neighbourhood after that incident.  His only child’s death had mentally unbalanced him. I came to hear of so many other tales of personal loss and trauma but above them all, this was something that never failed to hurt me – the sight of that wealthy and venerable looking man going begging from house to house.
25 cents; that was all he ever asked for.
“Give me 25 cents. I am an orphan now. My only son is dead.”

Apparently, the parents had told the son, a good-looking and intelligent young man of whom they were very proud to run, choosing to stay back themselves as they were too old. The boy was shot down, round the corner from his house, while the parents back home stayed safe.

In the Maldives meanwhile, my husband just 42 years old had to be hospitalized when he heard of the riots. He had wanted to take the next plane out to Colombo but his friends had hidden all his money and passport to prevent it. “Of what use is your going into that mayhem? If anything has happened / is happening to your family, you are not going to prevent it by going there, so stay safe here.”

Unable to reach us as we didn’t have telephone, and unable to come to us, he developed high blood pressure, fainted and had to be hospitalized. He has had to take medication for blood pressure ever since.

It was nearly two weeks before we managed to contact him to tell him we were all right. He came that December and arranged for us to go with him the next year. The Sri Lanka we had grown up in had changed beyond recognition. It was time to go.”

The Case of Colombo’s Disappearing Dogs

For the fourth time within the last month, animal rights activists staged a protest demanding to know where the dogs they are feeding are disappearing. Ever since 2010, canines have been disappearing off the roads of Colombo according to the activists. They have been campaigning since then to get the dogs back. “These animals were not a threat. They were well looked after and cared for. They had been sterilized, vaccinated and had people feeding them regularly. Yet they have been abducted. All we want to know is where they are and what is happening to them,” says Sharmini Ratnayake, one of the activist protestors. A number of animal welfare organizations such as the Sri Lanka Animal Protection Association, Animal Welfare Trust, Adopt a Dog and the Pooch Foundation took part in the protest on Saturday. “Are they drowned or shot?”, “Develop the City in a Humane Way!”, “They have a right to live too” were some of the messages seen on the placards carried by the protestors. According to them, whenever they tried to investigate, all leads finally pointed to the Colombo Beautification Program. And so they have been trying without success to engage with the Defence Secretary, Gothabaya Rajapaksa on the issue. “We have tried calling as well as writing letters to him several times but he has thus far ignored all our overtures. We’ll continue to protest until we some light,” says Visakha Tillekeratne, of the Animal Welfare Trust. The activists, numbering around 50, grouped themselves by the Lipton Circle in Colombo 07, last Saturday carrying placards demanding to know the fate of the dogs. Passers-by, both vehicles and pedestrians gave curious glances, indulgent smiles or just went on past on their busy schedules without noticing. Some policemen stopped by to see what was happening, asked that certain specific placards be removed but otherwise didn’t stop the protests. The protesters, who say that all their efforts to talk to the authorities have gone nowhere, are determined to carry though with the protests until they know what is happening to the dogs. The first dogs to disappear were from Galle Face in 2010. The activist / animal lover who fed them saw them being bundled into a van and has been campaigning for their release ever since. Since then, activists claim, many other dogs have been abducted off the streets of Colombo in various suburbs, often in broad daylight. Since the dogs that are being abducted are sterilized, vaccinated and well looked after, the activists say there is no rationale for it. “These secretive abductions are not acceptable on any basis. It is not acceptable on the basis of the ‘No Kill’ policy officially adopted by the government, not acceptable on the basis of ecology and certainly not acceptable on the basis of compassion and humanity,” says Tillekeratne. Culling of dogs was stopped by President Mahinda Rajapaksa in 2006. In early 2012, when Minister of Health, Maithripala Sirisena announced that the ‘No Kill’ policy didn’t seem to be working, there was a huge public outcry on what was perceived to be a backtracking  on the government on its position. The minister was hasty to clarify that he had been misquoted and that the government was still committed to the ‘No Kill’ policy. Figures the Minister quoted however said that 2000 people are bitten in Sri Lanka every day and so the chances of rabies are extremely high. Sharmini Ratnayake however refutes this. “Most of the bites are owner related; i.e. it is house pets who bite the owners for various reasons. Stray dogs are dependent on the community and are usually very mild mannered.  Unless they are really pushed into it or attacked, they hardly ever get aggressive. That’s something everyone knows.” A vet who asked not to be named reiterated Sharmini’s statement: “Most of these dogs are well looked after, sterilized and vaccinated. They were not really ‘stray’ dogs but community dogs in that sense. Most dog bite cases are owner related. That too has a story as dogs are not generally in the habit of biting their owners. When we did some research, we found that the affected pet owners did some really stupid things like putting their hands into the dogs’ mouths or pulling out thorns from their paws by hand. There just might be one or two cases of aggressive stray dogs being a neighbourhood threat but I personally haven’t come across them. Most of these dogs are non aggressive and not a threat to anybody.” And so, the saga of the disappearing dogs of Colombo continues. The activists say they are determined to see it through, until they get an answer from the authorities on what exactly is happening. Colombo’s beauty to them is marred by the lack of dogs. The Ceylon Today was unable to reach anyone at the Ministry of Defence, under whose purview the Colombo Beautification Program lies, to give a comment.

Photos by Sarath Kumara

The Problem with Disney’s Princesses

Fantasy Vs Real Life

This is a story I wrote for the Teen Magazine of my Newspaper

Snow White after marriage: Indolent husband, lots of kids and house drudgery. The part they didn’t tell you about ‘Happily Ever After!’

Few of you teens out there would be unaware of the various controversies surrounding Disney Cartoons. Poor kids.  In my day, (Ahem, Ahem, as an 80s kid), I could enjoy my cartoons without guilt. Some radical ‘educationists’ had started in on Enid Blyton and fantasy stories for kids as EVIL when I was still a child, but Disney had not yet felt the brunt of it. They began to feel the heat only in the mid nineties.

As someone who grew up on Enid Blyton, Fairytales and Disney cartoons, I have always treated criticisms directed at this quarter with a healthy dose of skepticism.  They are what saved me from a mundane and often difficult childhood. As a child, they gave me many hours of entertainment and pleasure and for that, I will always value them.

So while a female – and a female from a very repressive patriarchal society and as such a budding feminist, I tend to be annoyed at feminist criticism of ‘Disney Princesses.’

The modern Jasmine; Women play an important role in the Arab Spring

Some of the criticisms are valid actually but then as a child who had not yet experienced repression, due to being female (that happened only when I hit adolescence), I don’t think I was in any way brainwashed into thinking I was a ‘helpless female’ and my troubles would only be solved by a ‘handsome prince’ galloping up, by watching those cartoons.

Some of the much vaunted negative effects on kids are highly exaggerated. Give them a break – Children love fantasy but they are also more resilient and intelligent than some of these ‘educationists’ give them credit for.

When I came across the various criticisms against Enid Blyton as a preteen, I was utterly contemptuous of the arguments – and defiantly kept on reading her books. In a world of adults who thought they knew all about what was best for me and my needs but didn’t, Enid Blyton was one of the rare adults who did understand.

And now, as an adult, I can tell you, I was not in any way adversely affected by reading those books.  Enid Blyton probably had more of a role in bringing me up than my own parents did. I certainly learned a lot from her in terms of morals and behavior. Kudos to her for doing it so skillfully and creatively without being preachy – like Aesop and his fables!

So No, though I loved the Disney Princesses, I never fantasized about being a princess myself or wearing bulbous ball gowns and crown-like tiaras. I have never waited for Prince Charming to come along and rescue me. Nor have I thought that my role in life was to stoically be a ‘damsel in distress’ and wait till he came along. So much for a damaged childhood thanks to untenable fantasies.

But…

What I did fall for was the ‘Happily Ever After!’

I didn’t necessarily want a prince or a castle but I did think I would grow up to hit a phase of no more troubles – my ‘Happily ever after’; that’s my beef with Disney. That’s the only fantasy I fell for. Though I wasn’t exactly Cinderella with the evil stepmother and stepsisters ( although, come to think of it, my mom and sis could probably give them a run for their money… …Oh All Right, they are not that bad), I always did dream of an idyllic world where there would be no more troubles. Since childhood was so full of strife – exams every three months, humourless teachers, ununderstanding adults, stupid homework,  drudging housework – I really believed I would be all right once I hit adulthood.

‘Beauties’ don’t remain beauties forever – though they can delay the process a bit with expensive and painful cosmetic help. Another dose of reality we didn’t know, growing up!

Sigh!

I want my money back Disney. I got up at 4.30 am to write this story because I put it off till the last minute and the editor will have my head if I don’t give it within the deadline.  So much for ‘no more homework.’  And I still have to make my own bed, wash my own clothes and dust, clean and wipe my room every so often. Cinderella’s drudgery stopped at a point; why hasn’t mine?

More importantly, why am I still living with the EVIL… er… I mean overbearing mother and sister? I never wanted a castle but I did think I would at least have my own pad by now. Preferably with domestic help. Is that so much to ask? You didn’t warn me about cost-of-living problems. Oh, that’s why you brought in the ‘Princes’ eh? Only Royals can have an independent life style in today’s economy.

Pacohotnas is a single cat lady. That’s probably my reality as well, something I have no problem with. Give me cats over princes anyday!

Criticisms and petty gripes aside, I valued the fantasy stories of my childhood. They provided a charmed gateway from the extreme mundanity of real life. As a city kid, growing up in rented, packed apartment houses (don’t draw on the wall, don’t play with clay; you’ll dirty the floor, don’t make any noise), I envied my parent’s tales of growing up in a rural village.

I didn’t have pets to bond with, I didn’t climb fruit trees (particularly the neighbour’s, because stealing his sour mangoes made it tastier than plucking the ripe mangoes in one’s own garden, according to my father), I didn’t swim in rivers, I didn’t run free across fields with friends…

All I had to make up for it was books and cartoons. In the absence of carefree exercise for the body, they provided wonderful exercise for the mind. It was a much needed gateway to make up for the pressure of a highly curtailed childhood.

As such I have always sympathized with Disney. In its various efforts to placate those taking issue, it keeps treading on other toes. Disney cartoons show perfect worlds and that’s bad? Fine, factor in some grief. Except… do kids really need to deal with that at such a young age? Leave them their fantasies will you! They will have to deal with real life soon enough.

I was traumatized by the death of Bambi’s mother. I just found out while researching for this story, that it was scripted as a result of Disney’s paying heed to people who said children should not be fooled into thinking it’s a perfect world out there.

Ugh.. I knew animals were being cruelly killed even as a child… I just didn’t deal with it on an emotional level until I saw Bambi. Why did I have to anyway?

Unsurprisingly Disney then drew fire from adults who think like me; Leave the kids alone to as happy a childhood as possible. We have got a terrible world for them to inherit, let them have some peace at least in childhood.

Not so Little Riding Hood – too much junk food has made her overweight.

That said, pictures speak a thousand words. Notice the pictures here? They are the work of creative photographer, Dina Goldstein. Though generally on the pro-Disney side of the fence, I have to admit to admiring these photos.

While being irritated by many of the criticisms against Disney’s traditional cartoons, even I have to bow before this powerful work of creativity. There is no such thing as a ‘perfect world,’ or ‘happily ever after.’

Ariel is the star attraction at an aquarium. For all the money she brings in, couldn’t they at least clean her tank?

Maybe that’s too harsh a realization for childhood, but now that you are on the threshold of adulthood, you better realize it.

Photo Credit: Dina Goldstein

Trees Vs Traffic – A Losing Battle?

The traffic situation in Sri Lanka is becoming increasingly unsustainable. Fed up with congested, inefficient and uncomfortable public transport, more and more of the urban middle class are opting for private vehicles as soon as they can afford it. The city infrastructure to accommodate all those vehicles is not keeping up though. Commuters out and about during peak times such as office / school opening and closing times know all about the travails of travel on Colombo roads. There is always some segment of the population agitating for something – so while one segment would undoubtedly have agitated for wider roads and better traffic control systems, another segment, the tree lovers and environmentalists of Colombo, are deeply upset over the repercussions of cutting down trees to widen roads. Felling of trees to widen roads The latest victim is Wijerama Mawatha in Colombo 7. In the green city of Colombo (which is still known as one of the few ‘green’ cities of Asia), Cinnamon Gardens is one of the greener suburbs. Though the numerous Cinnamon trees that gave it its name are long gone, it is still a high-priced residential area, and as such, enjoys comparatively better perks than most other areas of Colombo. One of these symbols of prosperity, as it were, is the number of massive trees flanking the roads, providing much needed shade. Unfortunately Colombo 7 being prime real estate, many well known schools and institutes also dot the area. Translation: large number of traffic by the vehicles of upper class parents dropping off / picking up their children from school. Result: road widening! Translation: felling of trees! According to Jayantha Guruge, Director Works of the Colombo Municipal Council, trees are being cut down on both sides of Wijerama Mawatha because of the traffic flow problem in the area. He was the only official who could be reached, to give at least some clarification on the issue. Officials at the Ministry of Defence, which oversees the Colombo Beautification Programme, kept on transferring the line until someone finally had the courtesy to hang up. A typical tactic of many government ministries when they are asked to clarify anything. Neither the Colombo Mayor nor the Municipal Council Commissioner could be reached. The head of the Environment section of the Urban Development Authority brusquely said she had ‘nothing to do with the cutting down of trees.’ Asked to clarify who was, she replied, ‘I have no idea,’ before hanging up. The Chairman of the Central Environment Authority, Charitha Herath, was more polite, but didn’t have anything to add either. He seemed genuinely surprised about the issue. “They are cutting down trees? Where exactly? I am sorry; I haven’t heard anything about this.” He said, if it was true, then it wasn’t with the concurrence of the CEA, but was hasty to add;”The CMC and UDA do not need our concurrence however. They do have the power to cut down trees where necessary. Let me check with them and get back to you.” When Ceylon Today visited the scene at around 3.00 p.m., on Monday however, the road seemed quiet and subdued. There was hardly any traffic and even the CMC workers were not to be seen. The only evidence of their work was uprooted trees, tree stumps and a bull dozer. The scene now A group of workmen and their supervisors in the area turned out to be not from the CMC, but Dialog. Apparently the sudden uprooting had disconnected some Dialog cables and so the company had sent workers to inspect the damage. Most of the passersby were students from the nearby educational institutes strolling about during breaks. When asked their opinion of the trees being cut down, they expressed dismay. “It is such a pity. These trees were massive and gave a lot of shade. They were also very pretty. They beautified the neighbourhood. We didn’t want them cut down.” Photos by Gemunu Wellage

Skzin and Bones – Beauty of the Macabre

There might be a genre of people who love the macabre; skulls, bones, skeletons – all things grotesque. I am not one of them.

Taking a leisurely stroll round the upstairs gallery of the Lionel Wendt over the weekend however, to review Dr. Milinda Salpitikorala’s much famed work, I was both fascinated and impressed by the artwork.

“What kind of a depraved childhood did you have doctor?” might be a question asked by some with a decided aversion to the sinister. In fact, he might be used as a poster boy by radical revolutionists who posit that comic books / fairy tales / heavy metal and rock music are harmful to our children. He admits that comic book reading was the beginning of his fascination with skulls, bones, monsters and devils.

But the hugely cheerful, robust young man who offers to give me a guided tour of his work is the last thing from depraved, anyone can come across.  His energy and enthusiasm is infectious and even without that, his artwork by itself needs no apology or explanation. It is both compellingly creative and beautiful. The good doctor is clearly a highly skilled artist. Many people might indulge in artwork of the macabre to appeal to those who like the macabre, but Salpitikorala’s work stands out in that it will appeal to anyone who appreciates beauty – not just those who like the genre. He has succeeded in what I would have previously thought was impossible – making the grotesque, beautiful!

Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde?
The Doctor and his alter ego!

With a decided aversion to all things macabre, I must admit to not having seen much artwork of this kind – but what few I have seen, I have not liked. Salpitikorala is the first artist to make me think of skulls as beautiful. No, I wasn’t drawn to Mumm-Ra of ThunderCats or Skeletor of He-Man all that much (though I did love the cartoons).  Dr. Salpitikorala however was apparently smitten with both.

The ‘welcoming entry’ as Salpitikorala calls it – the first entry one saw upon walking in, was a trinity of skulls – mischievously  called ‘The Trinity’ by the Doc. The Trinity might mean different things in different religions, but here, they are three, rather compellingly fascinating skulls.

The Trinity

Next is a woman’s face with octopus like dreadlocks – said dreadlocks being accessorized with tiny skulls. Apparently, it is a tribute to one of his favourite artists, H.R Giger.

Next up was an “Ancient Love Story” in three parts; the first part showed the Danda Monara Yathraya (famed flying vehicle of King Ravana) which Salpitikorala has depicted as a real bird. The next one showed a muscularly handsome Ravana flying his bird vehicle; he could pass for a comic book superhero with his streamlined, powerful body in this depiction. The last picture in the series depicts a sinisterly handsome man and beautiful woman in coital embrace within the protective coils of a multi-headed snake.  The nude couple are clearly very much in love and engrossed with each other. This is Salpitikorala’s depiction of Ravana and Sita, which he says “Some Indians might not agree with but…”

It’s still his interpretation of their love story. And certainly the three-part series makes for a very compelling narrative of the star-crossed lovers. Did history rewrite itself on the victor’s side? Makes one almost wonder.

Ravana on his Danda Monara Yathraya

Salpitikorala being a qualified medical doctor (who works by day and paints by night), the bodies depicted are also fascinating in their anatomical perfection. Most of the male bodies in the paintings, brought to mind Michelangelo’s famed David; muscular, streamlined and beautiful.

My respect for his work also increased due to the fact that there were no genitalia to be seen. Don’t get me wrong; I understand the argument for nudity in paintings but in my opinion, many artists use genitalia in their artwork the same way many novelists use raunchy sex in their prose – to ‘sell’!  And that in a way sometimes cheapens the art.  The fact that Salpitikorala has depicted beautifully nude bodies but refrained from showcasing genitals means (to me at least) that he is confident enough as an artist to not need to resort to the obvious.

That’s my interpretation of course. To someone else specifically looking out for that kind of thing, it might mean he has ‘issues.’ He has certainly been ingenious in the way he has shied away from depicting the male sex organ. I for one am not complaining – the results were tasteful and beautiful, good enough for ‘family viewing’ as it were.

Gurulu Dancer

As a child, he says he was good in both art and biology; he might have preferred to pursue a career in art but, ‘parents being parents’ as he philosophically accepts, they did not think it was a viable career and packed him off to Manipal University, India to study medicine. Anatomy was one of his favourite classes – no surprises there.

One of the drawings on display – a rather desolate scene of dead trees and a dejected silhouette, was drawn as he explains, ‘on the back benches of Manipal during a very boring lecture.’

Titled Look Again the artist draws attention to the fact that it is not really a dejected portrayal. “Look carefully through the branches of the trees – you can see a naked female form. That’s why I titled it Look Again.”

Look Again

While not immediately visible to the eye, upon closer observation, a naked female form could indeed be discerned between the outlines of the dead tree branches – so while a young man sits, apparently crushed for whatever reason – an ethereal houri is waiting for him, if only he would look.

One couldn’t help grinning at his mischievous creativeness. It immediately begged the question, “Did he ever get caught in his ‘back-benching’ proclivities?”

“Of course!” comes the reply. “Even as a schoolboy, I was forever staying after school or putting in time over the weekends, to help the custodian paint the desks I had doodled over. I was a compulsive doodler.”

It’s a good thing that all those corrective punishments didn’t put paid to his artistic spark. If anything, the spark has lit into an unstoppable flame now. Despite all the trials and tribulations of a demanding education and career, Dr. Salpitikorala is also a very creative and talented artist, who has already acquired a fan base in Colombo. And that despite never having exhibitions before – this is his very first exhibition of his work.

The exhibition, titled ‘Skzin and Bones,’ which was free of charge to viewers at the Lionel Wendt over the weekend, has opened up his work to many more potential admirers. On display were both his canvases and his T-shirt designs (he has his own designer brand called Skzin, which is already quite popular in the market).

Designs for the T-Shirt Collection

The doctor who loves ‘Skzin and Bones’ has made his mark on the Sri Lankan Art scene, with this, his first exhibition. He has had a loyal fan base for some time, but with this foray, he had made converts out of even ‘non-believers’ like this writer. If you are not familiar with the name already, make a note of it. It will be a name to look out for soon, a name that will entrench itself in the annals of Sri Lankan Art – Dr. Milinda Salpitikorala! This is the first. We certainly haven’t heard the last of him yet, if what he has displayed thus far is anything to go by.

Photos by Amitha Tennekoon 

More Pictures

Dragon

Angel of Death

Werewolf

Good and Evil have the same face

Masks facing away from each other

Star crossed Lovers: Ravana and Sita

Professor Maunaguru; Icon of Indigenous Tamil Culture

There was a time in the not too distant history of this country when Tamil culture and arts were appreciated and explored in depth; Post 1983 and the intensification of the war however, all that came to a grinding halt in many parts of the country. As Tamils dispersed both within the country and abroad, the last thing on their minds was the preservation and / or promotion of their arts.  

One man however, an acclaimed Tamil artiste and academic, kept on striving to keep preserving and promoting Tamil Indigenous Arts wherever he found himself – be it Colombo, Jaffna or Batticaloa, even during the darkest hours of the Tamils.

His single minded devotion to his cause has made him an iconic face of Tamil Culture – both to the Tamils of Sri Lanka as well as those in Tamil Nadu. This is his story!

“I come from a very ordinary family from an indigenous village in Batticaloa. I was one of the first generations in my village to benefit from the free education given by the State. I passed the fifth standard scholarship examination, and had a state sponsored education throughout to which I owe my academic credentials,” explains Professor S. Maunaguru.

Born to a rich indigenous village culture which had still remained largely free of western influences in 1943, he grew up to the sound of traditional instruments such as the udukku, savanika and Silambu at temple festivals and village square performances.

“That was my first exposure to Art and Music. That indigenous culture remains deeply ingrained within me,” he explains.
In fact, despite taking part in school plays earlier, his first motivation to be a serious performer came about due to his taking part in a village square Koothu (indigenous musical theater) performance, at the age of 17.

“Many people singled me out especially for appreciation and several hugged me in their exuberance at my performance. That sparked within me, my first interest in being a performer.”

At the same time as growing up in an untouched indigenous culture, he was also going through a very high standard of schooling, being taught and mentored by exceptional teachers who exposed him to several other worlds and views beyond his own. He had thus the best of both worlds; Shakespeare and the local Tamil culture.

When he moved to university however, he discovered he had being living in a time capsule of sorts. The more urbane parts of the country had thoroughly anglicized itself. When Professor Vidyanandan of his university started staging koothus in which the young Maunaguru took part, it was widely appreciated by the Tamils as ‘indigenous revival.’
It was the norm at the time to perform in English or at least ape western styles of productions in theatre. So much so that another giant of the Tamil literary circuit, Professor Sivathamby praised Vidyanandan for “rediscovering Sri Lankan Tamil Theater.”

The young Maunaguru, a protégé of Professor Vidyanandan’s took part in several of those koothus; by the third koothu, he had even become emboldened enough to contribute heavily towards the script. That script, Ravanesan, which he has rewritten and revised several times is considered a modern classic amongst the Tamils. In fact it is a text book for the Masters Degree in Tamil course at the Coimbatore University, India.

A young Ravanesan

Maunaguru performed his first lead role as King Ravana, in Ravanesan, at the age of 22; he has performed this role several times over the decades, mostly recently as a 69 year old at the Jaffna Music Festival. The most path breaking aspect of Ravanesan, he explains was that it evolved Koothu into drama as well.

“Traditional koothu is a form of community social theatre which concentrated mostly on music and dance. Facial expressions are a modern trend of drama which we incorporated into it.

“Koothus are still performed in the Tamil areas of Jaffna, Batticaloa, Mullaitivu, Up Country, Kalmunai and Akaraipattu – they are traditionally long winded dusk to dawn productions.

“However, at a certain time in the sixties, effort had to be made to revive them. At that point in time, we had been heavily influenced by three forms of foreign theatre – Parsi Theatre, Victorian Theatre and Realist Theatre. With all this, the local Tamil village theatre almost disappeared. It had to be revived, along with traditional Sinhala productions. Professors Sarathchandra and Vidyanandan were contemporaries working in parallel – one to revive traditional Sinhala theatre and the other, traditional Tamil theatre.”

The promising young dramatist who was closely following these developments, meanwhile finished his Tamil degree and moved to Batticaloa as a teacher in 1965. While there, he wrote and directed a play criticizing caste oppression to be staged in Jaffna, in collaboration with Leftist parties who were fighting casteism in Jaffna at the time.

“I called it Sangaram (Destruction) and showcased the farmers and middle castes oppressing the lower castes. I received a lot of support for it from the scholars and artistes of Jaffna. It was called a path breaking innovation of Koothu theatre because it depicted contemporary social problems instead of historical stories.

“I restaged the koothu in Colombo’s Lumbini theatre in 1969. It drew widespread appreciation from both Sinhalese and Tamils and made for me a number of progressive minded friends.”

Soon after, he relocated to Colombo as a Tamil textbook writer, coinciding with an especially rich period in Art and Culture revival in the capital.

“The National Identity was being thought of deeply,” he says. “This was the time period in which Henry Jayasena, Dharmasiri Bandaranayake, Dhamma Jagoda, Sugathapala de Silva, Dayananda Gunawardena and Parakrama Niriella were extensively involved in refining as well as redefining Sinhala theatre.

“On parallel lines, we had the likes of Sundaralingam, Tarcisius, Balendra, Suhail Hameed and Kalaichelvan doing the same for Tamil theatre.

“It was a Golden Period of theatre productions in Colombo with Tamil and Sinhala plays being staged on the same platforms and drawing audiences of all three communities (Sinhala, Tamil and Muslim).

“Tamil plays of both indigenous as well as modern genres had reached an exceptional quality and standard when the 1983 riots put paid to it. All Tamil cultural activities in Colombo, including drama disappeared. Most of us relocated to Jaffna and so the cultural events that had been gaining ground in Colombo, took root in Jaffna. For a period we flourished again until the LTTE grew heavy handed and shut us up.”

However there was a window of several years before this happened; intellectualism had just begun to take root in Jaffna in the form of the Jaffna University. The professor remembers a time when he as a young lecturer, together with other ‘radicals’ of the University, deeply shocked the natives with their ideas on equal rights for women and the oppressed castes.

“Jaffna was a tight knit community with deeply held ‘cultural’ values and they had a hard time digesting the ‘new’ ideas we propagated. I produced a play called ‘Shakthi,’ which was inspired by my wife Chitra, a dedicated feminist. It depicted the Goddess Kali with her several hands, having ultimate power over the people. She divided herself into individual ordinary women who then became oppressed. After many trials and tribulations when the women figured out they had to organize themselves as one again, they became all powerful and defeated their oppressors.

“It was a very colourful and vibrant production in which I employed facets of Bharatha Natyam, Thenmodi and Vadamodi traditional dance forms, carnatic music as well as folk music. But it still could not be made palatable to many people. A number of men got up and left in the middle of the production; I was heavily criticized afterwards.

“This was a people, who when they attended an international photo exhibition feting women in 1979 were horrified by pictures of Vietnamese women holding guns. This was before the time of the LTTE female cadres and it was the first time any of them had seen women depicted as anything other than decorative objects.”

Nevertheless though there was a very rigid community on the one hand and increasing militancy on the other, he has nostalgic memories of those days because of the other intellectuals. He also notes that this constrained Jaffna also gave rise to feminist intellectuals such as Nirmala Nithiyananthan and her sister Rajani Thiranagama (assassinated for her contribution to the Broken Palmyrah), who produced feminist plays of their own.

“Professor Vidyanandan became the Vice Chancellor of the Jaffna University in 1981. Professor Sivathamby became the Head of the Department of Fine Arts. They and others in the University gave me all the support I needed.

“Vidyanandan tasked me with teaching the children traditional koothu forms. He urged me to teach the people who had largely forgotten it that we had our own indigenous forms of dance and Bharatha Natyam (imported from India) was not the only form of Tamil dance. I taught some students at the Ramanathan Academy of Dance. Veeramani Iyer (well known classical exponent of Jaffna), also taught there and he heavily opposed it.

“He and other acclaimed classical music / dance exponents got together to demand, ‘Can feet that danced the Bharatha Natyam be made to dance the koothu too?’ The implication was that one was highly refined while the other was uncouth.

“They conveniently forgot that Bharatha Natyam was a courtesan dance of India which had been stylized and made socially acceptable only in the 1930s through the efforts of Rukmani Devi Arundale. I have nothing against that dance form but I opposed the myth making and the attempted burial of our own roots as not being good enough. Despite all the opposition, I coached the children and even brought them to a production in Colombo where audiences were appreciative and asked what this ‘new’ form of dance was.”

According to the Professor, the reason such indigenous forms have been suppressed in Jaffna though they have thrived in Batticaloa, was mainly due to caste politics.

“In Jaffna, only low castes still maintain these indigenous dances while in Batticaloa, all the castes do. So the higher castes of Jaffna strenuously opposed the showcasing of ‘low caste’ dances as indigenous Tamil dances.”

Nevertheless, his efforts bore fruit; many young people of all castes were inspired to learn the traditional dance forms from him. Today many of them are well known artistes / lecturers themselves continuing to propagate what he started.

He has written 30 books on varied topics but mainly on traditional Tamil dance and theatre forms, which he has spent a lifetime researching and cataloguing. Four of those books have won the Sahitya Mandal Award from India.

In 1991, he returned to his native Batticaloa as a highly acclaimed academic with the potential and powers to do far more than he had been able to do in Jaffna.

“For six years I was the Dean of the Arts and Culture Faculty of the Eastern University and for 15 years, the HOD. I had a free hand to do as I wished and promptly set about doing it.

“I guided the Fine Arts students on what the Batticaloa culture was and how best to represent it. My idea was to represent it though folk arts and music but I made sure to include the traditions of the Christians and Muslims within it.”

One of the innovations that came of this was the formation of a ‘traditional’ band for the university, using only traditional folk instruments and attire, complete with headdresses and anklets. The idea was enthusiastically embraced by the students who liked the idea of a colourful procession with flag, banner and Huge Umbrella as in courtly processions of old.

“Only problem was, the students refused to take up certain instruments associated with lower castes and exorcism like the Parai and the Udukku. With no other way to convince them other than by example, we the lecturers took it up. I took up the Udukku, fellow lecturers Jayashankar and Balasukumar took up the Melam and the Parai, and we continued the procession.

“My staff members unhesitatingly gave me their support for which I am grateful; I couldn’t have broken that societal taboo without them. It was an extremely surprising and eye-opening experience for the students who then followed suit themselves.

“I had this band preside at cultural events which was not initially acceptable to everyone due to their deep rooted prejudices but the project overall was a success. The common people were thrilled; the band always makes an impression on visiting dignitaries; today it has grown to include many female students who pound away at even the Parai drums with gusto. We’ve broken both caste and gender barriers with it.”

In addition to this feat, he is proud of one more accomplishment during his time as the HOD of Fine Arts.

“I encouraged my students to research on the traditions of the so called ‘marginal’ people – their arts and culture which no-one had been interested in studying and codifying till then. 25 percent of the dissertations of students were done on these people – the Paraiyar, Vannar, Veddhas. Their theater anthropology and sociology have been documented for the first time academically. It will remain a rich source of resources as well as having served to educate the future intellectuals of the area on the marginalized people.”

Unfortunately for him though, while promoting the diverse forms of Tamil culture, he has also come under fire for ‘diversifying unity.’

“People ask me, ‘why do you portray the Tamils of different regions as having different traditions?  Why especially do you portray the North and the East as having distinctly different cultures?’

“It’s because the Tamils of the North and the East do have distinctly different cultures. I don’t see anything wrong with it. A culture that has diversity and variety within it is a rich culture. Cultures with uniformity across them are poor cultures. The Tamil culture is a rich culture and I try my best to showcase it in all its diversity.

“The problem with being an artiste is that someone or other will always take issue with some portrayal or other. It is unnerving at the best of times but as in the case of the last few decades for Tamil intellectuals, it could be positively dangerous.

As a much older Ravanesan

“I heavily re-edited Ravanesan for a Year 2000 production; with insight as an older man, I tried to portray Ravana as a more human character. Rather than the usual arrogant portrayal, I depicted him as someone who brashly entered war, realized it was a mistake but was too proud to back out.

“The next thing I knew, I was getting angry calls based on some interesting and innovative interpretations of my meaning in the play. I had a lot of trouble defending myself against interpretations in the modern context that I had never intended.”

So how did he manage to continue in this atmosphere at a time when most intellectuals were killed or left the country because of the constraining atmosphere?

“Many of my colleagues and friends left the country and urged me to do the same but I preferred to stay on in Sri Lanka, even with its constraints rather than be free in exile. My consuming passion was theatre and the different art forms of Sri Lanka and I couldn’t contemplate a life without it. Since times had changed to such an extent that I could not be a modern artist depicting contemporary situations, I turned to exclusively researching indigenous art and producing only mythical / historical productions. Which as in the case of Ravanesan could still land me in trouble; but that was nothing more than par for the course. Over the years, I have learnt to put up with such flare ups!”

In 2009, he retired from the University, but it looks as if the most interesting aspect of his life is just starting. He and a few colleagues / students have got together to found a ‘Theater Lab.’ The idea he says is to ‘create’ instead of to ‘craft.’

“The English language has two distinct words to explain this; Art & Craft! Most of our artistes are actually only craftsmen. They learn skills passed down to them and replicate it the same way. Craft is good but Art is better. The Tamils of this country have not produced geniuses of the calibre of Sarathchandra, Chitrasena or Amaradeva yet. I want to have paved the way towards producing them at least by the next generation.”

And so, he and a group of fellow artistes of varying ages get together every Sunday at a house they have rented out, to meditate and do yoga before having brainstorming sessions, as well as impromptu singing and dancing sessions.
After years of dedicated research and propagation of his knowledge, the professor has hung up his academic cloak without regret. He sums it up best himself:

“I no more work with my brain; I work with my heart now.” 

Interview with Ashoka Handagama on his Movie, Ini Avan

Ini Avan (Him Hereafter) is a Tamil movie by Sinhalese Director Ashoka Handagama which premiered on 03 April at the National Film Corporation, but is yet to be released to theatres.

The first Sri Lankan Tamil movie Samuthayam (society) was released exactly fifty years ago in 1962. Since then, only a handful of Tamil movies have been made in the country, the last notable release being Ponmani in 1977.

Thirty five years later, Handagama’s Tamil movie shot exclusively in Jaffna and showcasing Jaffna life post war, is set for release. Ceylon Today spoke to the well known but controversial director on the whys and wherefores of his latest venture.

What prompted you to make a Tamil language film?

I have been visiting the Jaffna peninsula regularly ever since the war ended. Even before that, during the ceasefire, I made several trips there to make friends with the people and be in touch with their lives. One of my friends suggested I make a movie on them and I thought “Why not?”

Did you have to do a lot of research work as an outsider to their culture and way of life, to get the authenticity right?

Well I just observed and talked to as many people as I could during my trips there. I heard various life stories and anecdotes which highlighted for me the sorry condition of widows, women, unemployed youths, orphaned parents…

I met a young man, an ex combatant just like the protagonist in the movie, who was in despair at being unable to raise the Rs. 20,000 required for a driving license. He knew how to drive but they required that amount for a license – the figure I quoted in the movie was the authentic amount being asked in Jaffna.

I compiled several different life stories and tried to incorporate them in the movie. The characters in the movie are all fictional but their characteristics are true – the characteristics of the Jaffna people in different perspectives, as I found them.

Is it just an abstract film made on their lives or is there a specific message you were trying to convey through the movie?

In some of my teledramas, I have promoted reconciliation but I didn’t bind myself with such restrictions here. I just wanted to explore the current situation in Jaffna and showcase it through the movie. A new capital liberalism has arrived in Jaffna; a lot of developmental projects are happening but my perception is that they are not filtering down to the grass roots.

My main focus was not on what happened during the war but what will happen if certain conditions are not corrected!

What has been the reception so far from those who have seen the movie?

I have had positive feedback from the premiere. The people who came said they liked the movie.

What has been the Tamil people’s reaction to it?

Thus far, those who have seen it said they liked it. I plan to showcase the movie to a select group of invitees in Jaffna soon.

How do you think the Jaffna Tamil diaspora will receive it?

Whenever I showcase my movies abroad, both Sinhala and Tamil diasporas attend. I tend to receive both negative and positive feedback from them. In some of my earlier movies depicting Sinhala border villages, the Sinhala diaspora took offence at certain scenes and said I was bringing disrepute to their culture.

I don’t let it bother me as my movies are not the tourist board type ‘everything is beautiful and glorious’ movies. My mission is to typecast reality as I see it and if it bothers some, it can’t be helped.

Were there actors from Jaffna in the movie?

Nearly everyone except the four main characters:

Dharshan (hero)
Subashini (heroine)
Niranjani (Second heroine)
Raja (villain)

were from Jaffna. The main actors were all Tamils too but they were from different parts of the country.

Why did you choose the name Ini Avan?

As two separate words, it literally means “Him Hereafter” in Tamil but if combined into one word, it would mean “Sweet Person.” I deliberately wanted it to be a play of words – so that both meanings could be ascribed. Ex LTTE combatants suffer a negative image in society and I wanted to challenge it.

Movie Review: Ini Avan (Him Hereafter)

 

Whenever Ashoka Handagama produces a movie, people sit up and take note! “What unpalatable societal truth has he portrayed this time?” That’s the question on most people’s minds whenever a Handagama movie is set for release.

His latest offering is a Tamil film set in Jaffna. Predictably it’s about social struggles and the hardships of day –to- day life instead of being flighty, light hearted froth but Handagama has also matured over the years in his ability to tell a cinematic story. He has always endeavoured to open the eyes of viewers to realities within their society that they might not be aware of, but this time he has managed to do it without getting their eyeballs to pop in the process.

It’s a simple and lucid script but whether it is going to be considered controversial or not depends on the viewer; it is the story of a ‘rehabilitated’ LTTE combatant and the challenges he faces in restarting civilian life in Jaffna.

As a Jaffna Tamil myself, what I found most appealing about the film was its authenticity in portraying the landscape, houses, way of life and mentality of the people. Previous Tamil films showcasing Jaffna Tamils (made by Indian Tamils in Tamil Nadu) had been irritating in getting various facets including the accents, speech, mannerisms and landscape wrong.

The Jaffna landscape is vastly differently to the rest of the country and Handagama’s low budget movie which was shot exclusively in Jaffna, does not suffer by portraying misinformed caricatures of the reality. The old houses; unglamorous but sturdy, the winding lanes, the thatched fences, the palmyrah trees – all conjure up an authentic Jaffna atmosphere effortlessly.

While that might not have required much effort as he only shot what was already there, the merit is certainly his for getting the mentality of the people as well as their problems in day to day life, post conflict, absolutely right. Handagama, though a Sinhalese, has managed to get into the skin of the Jaffna Tamils in the way they think and interact; their various fears, hopes and aspirations – and portrayed it empathetically.

The challenges of a strapping young LTTE combatant getting back to civilian life, the lack of economic opportunities for young people, the anger of other civilians towards the returned combatants – both for dragging out the war, as well as their failure to win it… have all been smoothly scripted in by Handagama without entanglements, and well enacted by the actors.

It is impressive how within a short film, he has managed to tell a lucid story and brought the mentality and current situation of the Jaffna Tamils to an outside audience. Ini Avan is almost a masterpiece in storytelling in that aspect – no unwanted scenes, no corruptions of the reality – a uniquely individualistic people and their problems have been beautifully portrayed for others in their country (and out) to see and understand.

The film is not an entertainment film – Handagama does not do entertainment – but it is nevertheless riveting throughout its length; and to fellow countrymen who live outside Jaffna as well as the diasporas including the Jaffna Tamil one, many of whom have been so long outside the country that they have evolved away from their brethren back home – this movie will prove highly educational.

Every aspect of their lives including the Jaffna people’s dress, walk, talk and thought processes have been portrayed authentically by the director.

Different characters in their minor roles bring out so much – the father who refuses to marry his daughter to a ‘low caste fellow,’ his dilemma in having to marry the girl off quickly to stop her from being enlisted by the LTTE (they forcedly conscripted all youths except the married girls), the father who is furious at the returned combatant because his own sons have died, the shopkeeper who initially sympathizes with the returned unemployed combatant and gives him groceries on credit – only to take it away in a huff, when the young man rather brusquely (in his embarrassment) asks for Rs.20,000.

“Extortion money? Sorry those days are long gone.” With that single short scene, Handagama portrays so many different things; the frustration of a young man unable to raise the exorbitant fees for a driving license in order to be employed, the unemployment problems of youths in the peninsula, the way the LTTE demanded ‘taxes’ from shopkeepers in the area for their cause – and the resultant miasma of anger, disappointment and regrets.

The movie moves seamlessly from scene to scene at a brisk pace (though by no means hurrying the viewer). The story, direction, acting and cinematography are all superlative – but the most gripping aspect of the movie is the dialogues. Handagama was apparently personally responsible for the script and wrote it originally in Sinhala to be translated into Tamil.

Given that constraint, the fact that the dialogues are simple and realistic but most of all hard hitting is fascinating. Some great quotable quotes are in that movie – but the fact that Handagama managed to have them portrayed naturally and realistically instead of with over-the-top grandiosity or exaggeration as so many filmmakers are guilty of, is a noteworthy artistic feat.

The film ultimately is a very real depiction of Jaffna life today – especially of the lower middle classes and the poverty stricken. Handagama does not attempt to have an ending or closure in this movie – unless you can call the closing shot of the bright blue sky and the Palmyrah trees closure. The movie is rich in symbolism and that final shot after taking the viewers for a harrowing ride seems to say – ‘it’s Ok! The Jaffna people, like their Palmyrah trees, are resourceful, resilient and tough! They will survive against all odds with the same sturdiness and dignity.’

Book Review: Hernando Villa – A Sri Lankan Love Story

A new book and writer have appeared on the Sri Lankan English Literary Horizon. Both promise to be rising stars.

Vijitha Yapa publications have recently brought out a new book – Hernando Villa, by retired chartered accountant Terrence Perera. Though the book claims to be a love story, it is essentially much more than that.

It is the story of Sri Lanka and Sri Lankans over the last hundred years. Masterfully scripted, the story starts with the description of an upper class family in their ancestral town. They comprise the highest nobility of that region and Hernando Villa is their ancestral home built by the ‘Gate Mudliyar,’ an erstwhile ancestor of theirs in the nineteenth century, still spoken about with awe by the local people.

Using this family as the central focus, Perera masterfully tells the stories of a multitude of different people connected to them – the Tamil friends who escaped the ’83 riots, the Sinhalese friends who had an inter-caste, inter-religious marriage, the surrounding middle class and lower middle people of their area, the fiery but loyal fisherfolk connected to the ancestral village…

With lucid, simple sentences Perera manages to bring various different individuals as well as their different societies and mindsets alive to the reader. No character, however simple or on the fringes of the book, is a cardboard cut-out. The author has taken the trouble to paint all of them as very real people with their stories and backgrounds explained to the reader that they might understand the character and his/her mentality better.

Thus the reader will automatically feel indulgent affection for William, the mischievous but perspicacious youngest child of the family; along with a fondness for his best friend in the house – his great aunt Emma. The relationship between these two is both touching and amusing – but they also serve their purpose in the book, in highlighting the main plot and making us understand it better. Everyone from the annoying and meddlesome Aunt Margie to the old servant Juan Appu have their stories told and their characters well painted for us to appreciate.

The ‘Love Story’ – or rather the main love story, as there are several – is between William’s elder brother Nihal and Padma, the daughter of the Tamil family the Hernandos had rescued in 1983. Post 1983, that family had fled to Canada and since done well for themselves there. But when it is time for Padma to marry, they send her back to Sri Lanka to find a ‘suitable boy’ via the arranged marriage proposal system. They might be Canadian citizens now but they want Padma to marry a boy of their own race, region and caste. Padma who stays with her aunt in Wellawatte, is invited by the Hernandos to stay at their villa too, where she soon strikes up a friendship with Nihal and his sister Manel, who are close to her in age.

While the Hernandos and Rajanathans (Padma’s family) are close friends, both sets of families are horrified by the developing relationship between their son and daughter. It offends the notions of both the upper caste Sinhalese Christian parents as well as the upper caste Tamil Hindu parents. However, as befits educated parents of the 21^st century, they bow to the inevitable (though not before various attempts to dissuade the two lovers), and accept the romance with grace.

In contrast, Perera throws in the story of the Gate Mudliyar’s own son William a hundred years earlier, when he falls in love with the daughter of an Earl, while at Oxford. William has to abandon his love when his parents have him called back on getting to know of his romance; his mother threatens suicide if he doesn’t give it up. Their story too is touchingly told within a few pages, so that the reader comes to have an empathetic bond with William and Jane as well as their different spouses. Perera does not go over the top with romantic drama. The beauty of his storytelling lies in the fact that he paints his characters as real and human people. They don’t waste time being dramatically shattered and broken hearted. They pick up the threads of their lives and move on – marrying other people and learning to love them, while still cherishing memories of their first love. The poignancy of their story is in the lack of drama attributed to them by the author rather than because of it a la Miss Havisham in Great Expectations or Heathcliff in Wuthering Heights. It is their dignified fortitude that touches the reader, not over-the-top behaviour, as commonly found in literature.

The book is well crafted, with various threads being skillfully interwoven to give a colourful but real idea of Sri Lankan life, spanning different decades, cultures and societies. As if all that were not enough, Perera also manages to interweave aspects of the war, the race riots and the tsunami in, bringing to light different characters and how they were affected by it / acted through it.

It is the ultimate Sri Lankan story, which incorporates a wide variety of Sri Lankan characters as well their trials and tribulations over the past several decades. For so ambitious an undertaking, there is nothing arduous in the book, either in the writing – or for the reader, in the reading. It is one of those ‘unputdownable’ books that will keep the reader turning the pages to know what happened next. I read the book in one night.

The author is a retired chartered accountant who has not had any literary ambitions until retirement. If one were to look at the writing critically, it could be discerned that some of the sentence structures are rather awkward – he flouts most rules laid down in creative writing workshops. He is however not the product of creative writing workshops. He is a man who has lived and experienced several decades of life with keen enjoyment and observation and that is what comes out in the book. Like his endearing creation William, he is perspicacious and witty and there are several laugh-out-loud moments for the reader within the book. While empathetic to most of his characters, he also sports a benevolent creator-like understanding of their many character defects and relays them humorously.

The Book is ultimately a triumph of storytelling – read it, you won’t regret it.

The author signing books at his book launch

Photos by Laksiri Rukman