A Brief Colonial History Of Ceylon(SriLanka)
Sri Lanka: One Island Two Nations
A Brief Colonial History Of Ceylon(SriLanka)
Sri Lanka: One Island Two Nations
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Thiranjala Weerasinghe sj.- One Island Two Nations
?????????????????????????????????????????????????Friday, July 28, 2017
Occasional Stories: About a True Believer
The scene from the roof top was amazing. The whole Campus could be seen from there in the moonlight. It was better than the daylight.
by Laksiri Fernando-
( July 28, 2017, Sydney, Sri Lanka Guardian) I
have come across several of them during my university life but this
particular person was somewhat exceptional. We all at that time,
including myself had this common trait of having somewhat ‘blind faith’
in what we believed in. But he was to the extreme. When I think of him,
what I remember is Eric Hoffer’s book titled The True Believer. Hoffer was talking about the general, and I am talking about a specific person.
Hoffer said, “All of them breed fanaticism, exceptional enthusiasm,
fervent hope, hatred and intolerance.” They are ready to die for what
they believe in and also to kill others for the same. For them the life
is not sacrosanct, but the cause is.
In this story, I am not using real names except for prominent figures
because some of the facts are sensitive and the way I relate the story
may create some prejudice against Sirisoma or others. My sole intention
is to relate my experiences, as in the case of all other stories,
whatever they are worth to understand this complicated world. After all,
Sirisoma was a good man, caught up in his own circumstances and driven
by some uncontrollable forces, internal and external.
We were at the University of Peradeniya, involved in student politics
apart from our studies or in some instances more than our studies. It
was in the midst of a police batten charge in December 1965 that I first
came across Sirisoma. While many of us took shelter, or cover against
the assault, there were few who confronted the police or were unable to
retreat. They unfortunately got a severe beating and the most
unfortunate was one Wickremaratne who became permanently paralysed. He
was completely innocent. Another was Sirisoma who confronted the police
with his bare hands and got inflicted with severe wounds all over his
body.
Sirisoma was a six-footer, well-built and handsome. He always walked
with his head straight. He studied Science in the Sinhala stream and was
not known in the student movement previously before his said adventure.
After that he was very prominent and was called gut-Siri for his
bravery.
The strike was a virtual disaster, except for its experience. We were
licking our wounds for a long time. There were several committees formed
to look after various matters because the formal student council was
suspended; the leaders were virtually expelled and there was a court
case against some of them. The general students, including some
activists, were extremely demoralized.
This happened or fortunately ‘not happened’ after about six months of the strike, in mid-1966.
A friend of mine from engineering, Amal de Costa, came to see me with
Sirisoma one late afternoon. Amal and I were from the same persuasion
of politics at that time, the broke away ‘revolutionary’ wing of the
Sama Samaja Party. But we were not aware of Sirisoma’s politics.
“Siri has a plan to resurrect the student movement,” Amal said. Sirisoma was simply called Siri, and that was his nickname.
I was interested in listening because at a recent meeting of our
political group I and few others were somewhat asked to look for the
‘ways and means’ of resurrecting the student movement. However, Sirisoma
was not talking!
“No, he wanted to show it to us,” Amal became the advocate for Sirisoma.
“Show what?” I asked.
“How it should be done,” Siri said calmly and confidently.
The suggestion was to go to the Akbar Hall to show Siri’s plan. I agreed
reluctantly because I had a half a mind of going to the Ramanathan Hall
that evening to see my girlfriend. I had to abandon my worldly
pleasures for the sake of the political cause. Akbar Hall was completely
of the other side of the Campus across the Mahaveli River just next to
the Faculty of Engineering. Amal resided there and I was not sure where
Sirisoma was living.
On our way, Siri was complete tight lipped as if his plan was a top
secret. Allowing Siri to go ahead, I whispered to Amal to know about
Siri’s plan. He shrugged his shoulders and said, “he didn’t tell me.”
By this time, the night gods were spreading their wings over us and it
was getting darker and darker, except for the moonlight. Siri wanted to
go to the rooftop of the Akbar Hall to ‘reveal the plan’ and Amal had to
fetch the key to the area because it was normally out of bounds for
anyone for security and other reasons. But as the President of the Hall
Committee, Amal perhaps did not have any difficulty in obtaining the key
to the rooftop. It was a six-storey huge building with two wings. Hall
Committees were the only student bodies functioning at the time. All
other student organizations were suspended after the strike.
The scene from the roof top was amazing. The whole Campus could be seen
from there in the moonlight. It was better than the daylight. The
mammoth Hantana Mountain was encircling the Campus like a sleeping giant
from the East and the South. Mahaveli River was flowing across the
Campus from the South to the North, opening the whole area to the Kandy
Valley. We were not allowed to appreciate the scenic beauty much by
Sirisoma, sensing our deviation or distraction from the ‘political
cause.’
He pointed out the newly constructed Buddhist Stupa, glowing in white
across the Faculty of Arts building. It appeared very near us from this
roof top. At the beginning, I couldn’t understand the connection between
this Buddhist shrine and his plan to ‘resurrect the student movement.’
But he explained it with a fervent spirit. He pointed out his finger to
the platform erected at the top of the Stupa. Yes, it was there for us
to see. In two days’ time, the Prime Minister, and that time, Dudley
Senanayake, would be coming to ordain a golden pinnacle to this Stupa.
That is going to be the opening ceremony of the shrine. The Prime
Minister will be standing alone on the platform, during the ceremony,
for some good few minutes without any cover of security.
“We should shoot him,” he said almost casually.
“Do you mean to kill him?” I asked. I was alarmed.
“Not really, but shoot.”
Something suddenly went wrong in my stomach. I was feeling nausea. Amal
also was equally alarmed. He in fact was stammering. Then I thought it
could be a joke, or perhaps it could be considered as a joke. Some sober
blood came to my mind or head. I said it is simply not possible; the
event would take place day after tomorrow.
First, he tried to argue that it is possible and he could find the right
gun for the operation. Then I pointed out that the consequence would be
not to resurrect the student movement but to destroy it through severe
government repression. He appeared listening to this rationality (or
not) to argue against it. I did not realise at that time that Sirisoma
was at the ‘edge of terrorism,’ even implicating all of us in the
process.
I and Amal had an implicit understanding that we should do our best to
dissuade Sirisoma from his ‘assassination’ proclivity. We took him to
Amal’s room. We started chatting normal things. Siri was exceptionally
talkative now. We of course asked him whether he knows about shooting.
He said he has training from an army friend and he is supposed to be an
excellent marksman. He had some pride in his face. Most intriguing was
when he said that he knows how to hypnotise people.
“Can you actually do it?” Amal asked.
“Of course, I can,” was the answer.
I did not have any time to intervene, Amal instantly volunteered to be
the ‘victim.’ I never had any inclination to believe or disbelieve
things like hypnotism. I was completely disinterested. But in this case,
I had to wait and watch. I also thought that the whole exercise perhaps
was a good distraction for Siri’s assassination instinct.
I exactly cannot remember the whole process of hypnotising Amal. But he
was asked to sit on a chair, close his eyes and concentrate on what Siri
was saying. Siri was basically asking Amal to imagine certain things
that he was saying. There were several rounds without any results. Amal
opened his eyes saying that he was not hypnotised. We wanted to bring a
close to the whole exercise several times but Siri was not heeding to
our request.
Now it was almost midnight. We even did not have our dinner yet. The
whole evening was exhausting. Then suddenly it worked. Siri was asking
Amal to imagine that he was on a beach and holding hands of a girl.
First, he gave Amal a towel to hold by the corner. Now Amal was
standing. Then he gave Amal a pillow and asked him to make love to the
girl. I noticed not Amal’s but Siri’s face turning red. His voice was
gentle and mood excited. This was strange because Siri was not a person
who ever talked about the other sex.
I pleaded with Siri to conclude the exercise. Then it was all over. Amal
appeared bit disoriented. Siri appeared triumphant. We decided to go
for dinner. Amal had already arranged with whom we used to call ‘hall
servants’ to keep some food for a late dinner, including for two
visitors. Because of our politics, we had very good relations with the
‘working class.’ Otherwise the dinner time was already over. Siri did
not join us for dinner. He just disappeared.
At dinner, I asked Amal what exactly happened and he laughed. He said he
had to pretend that he was hypnotised or otherwise there was no escape
from Siri. This is something I initially suspected when Amal was ‘at the
beach.’ But Amal played so naturally, I in fact thought he was actually
in a trance.
It was late 1970 that I heard the arrest of Sirisoma when he was a
science teacher at Haguranketha. That time I was teaching at the
Vidyodaya University. He was arrested for making explosive devices,
bombs and firearms. He also had enlisted school students for this
enterprise. He was apparently making firearms for the JVP, which staged
an abortive insurrection in April 1971. As he was arrested well before
the main incident, he was not brought before the main court case of the
insurrection. Neither was he released. He died in custody. Those who had
come across him in prison said that he was completely blind at the last
stages of his life. It was sad.
He was apparently kept in a dark room for many many weeks or months. The
police and prison authorities found him to be a very stubborn man who
resisted questioning and even physically fought with the officers. What
comes to my mind is how he fought with the police during the batten
charge of students in December 1965 at Peradeniya.
Sirisoma was undoubtedly a true believer who was ‘fanatic’ about what he
believed in and ready to undergo hardship or die for what he considered
a true cause. He wanted a total revolution to the society. He despised
authority and particularly the police. As many other ‘true believers’ of
his kind, he did not care about others’ lives either. That was the
tragedy.