Ummath

by Sharmila Seyyid

  Within two years, she experienced a vast variety of moments of happiness and moments of sorrow.

  She never failed to ask the people arriving from the Batticaloa district for news of her family. She constantly thought of her parents and siblings, even when she was busy working, although she did her utmost not to. Considering the trauma that they had put her through by heartlessly abandoning her in a strange household, she was determined not to contact them ever again.

  ‘Little sister, this news will come as a shock to you. But fighters like us have to be able to withstand such shocks…’

  ‘Do tell me, Anna. You know I’m much stronger than the Yoga who went to drown herself in the river.’

  Seelan smiled gently and nodded. He could see the truth in her words. He could never forget that Yoga with her hair ruffled by the wind, her pale eyes and her wilted, sorrowful face, walking towards the river.

  ‘Your father has passed away…’

  However much she may have steeled her heart, she was shaken by this intelligence. But even then she would not relent from her stubborn resolution to not have any contact with the family.

  ‘Remember Yoga, we don’t carry any weaknesses on the path of sacrifice. We’re fighting for the freedom of our people. We can have desires and love but we should not let it shake our resolve.’

  She wiped the tears from her eyes. Within the short time that she had been in the Movement, she had encountered many such losses. Her heart bled every time one of the many girls who had befriended her in the camp had died the death of the brave on the battle-front. She had learnt to accept these losses philosophically, but the news of her father’s death did distress her. Although the time spent with the Tigers had given her a certain maturity, the sense of emptiness at this loss persisted.

  When she was eventually sent to the warfront they found her marksmanship excellent. Her manner of speech, mode of dress and attitude had all transformed. Like the wild shrubs that sprouted from randomly dispersed seeds in the forest, survival was her only instinct. She had no expectations from this world. If survival meant kill or be killed, her only aim was to bring down the enemy. The only sanctuary she knew was the army camps of the Eelam Movement and their battlefields.

  ‘There’s a fierce battle raging in the Vadamunai area. We have to send troops from here. We’ve decided to send you and your group, Yoga. Are you ready?’ asked Ezhilan, the commanding officer. Yoga realized that here, at long last, was the opportunity that she had yearned for–to fight and die on the battlefield.

  The battle lasted not for a day or two but for five whole months. The moment she found herself on the front lines, the thought of death vanished from her mind. She wished to fight the enemy to the last drop of blood remaining in her body. Thousands of martyrs had died a hero’s death and offered their lives for the cause. Yoga was hell bent on defeating the enemy and to refuse to surrender no matter what.

  She had really metamorphosed into a brave tiger. ‘Do or die doing’ was the war-cry that seemed to guide her footsteps. She did not pause to think or ask questions. She had been so thoroughly brainwashed that the only thought in her mind was that the person opposing her was the enemy.

  The commandant Ezhilan discovered that Yoga, who had had training in sharp-shooting, could also plan an attack in great detail. He commended her on her mental strength that gave her the ability to fight tirelesslyand continuously. You need a lot of mental strength. That can only be developed through rigorous training. In such a short time you have gained the skill of fighting without rest. I must congratulate you on your achievements…’

  She had been really moved when Ezhilan praised her. It filled her with pride and enthused her even more. She had begun to appreciate herself and was no longer suicidal or swamped by a feeling of hopelessness or helplessness. Now, guided by a new passion to survive and live, she resolved never to turn her back to the enemy; she swore to die a brave soldier’s death. She had transformed herself into someone with a deep sense of duty, someone who was honest and never broke the rules imposed by her army. She became a full-time soldier, dedicated to the cause.

  In the meanwhile, the Eelam Movement had gone from strength to strength in terms of warfare and posed a real threat to the government and the international community. Monetary aid poured in from many parts of the world wherever there were Tamil-speaking people. The Tamils who had fled because of the war and sought refuge in other parts of the world actively promoted the cause of the Sri Lankan Tamils.

  Yoga was now fully cognizant of the demand for an Eelam by the Movement and of their other political aspirations. Politics was one of the subjects that were taught to all new recruits during their training. They were taught that the majoritarian policies of the Sinhalese were crushing underfoot the legitimate rights of all the minorities. The political science course included details of the Vattukkottai Agreement, the Thimphu talks, the Sri Lanka-India treaties and peace conferences which were analysed with hindsight. It also included demographics and other statistics of each district. Discussions on the necessity of the Eelam were dealt with only after all the recruits had completely understood these issues.

  Thus, this training meant that all the members of the forces were deeply dedicated to fulfilling their share of duties. Strongly embedded in the minds of each and every one of them were the seeds of the selfless thought that, even if they were to die in the war, their future generations would live in a free society where none of their rights were denied. Yoga now subscribed to the view that she wanted her death to be in the cause of freedom and for her community. As far as the Tigers were concerned, they did not see the lives lost as corpses, they were the seeds of glory. Yoga too believed this.

  The inferiority complex that she had acquired during her stint as an unpaid servant in a place where she had been physically and verbally abused still surfaced now and then, but she had gradually learnt to overcome it. She was now, first and foremost, a woman combatant. She had identified herself with this role and was proud to be a member of a force that was fighting for the liberation of a society.

  It was the year 1999. Yoga was the leader of a small unit.

  An emergency message from commandant Ezhilan.

  ‘Yoga … the army is fast approaching the area where you have your trenches. They are a large unit and you do not have enough people or weapons to fight them. So get out of there immediately!’

  She didn’t waste any time. Urging the others in the trenches to leave, she and the girls in her team quickly prepared themselves. By the time she had collected all the guns and ammunition, her team had already left.

  They were not more than a hundred metres ahead when suddenly there was a volley of gun-shots fired at her. Yoga desperately tried to return the fire. The bullets whizzed through like her body was a sieve; unable to withstand the onslaught, she helplessly slid unconscious to the ground.

  6

  Theivanai immersed herself in her training with great satisfaction and enthusiasm. The press owner and the workers there behaved in a friendly, helpful, and caring manner and gave her practical exercises; she learnt the art of book binding within a week.

  ‘Sir, I think I have had enough training…’

  The press owner who did not want to train her in the beginning, had now become a very caring and affectionate teacher.

  ‘Yes it should be enough. I will ask them to give you some books, documents and some files. If you are able to bind them and you have no doubts, we can end your training.’

  Book-binding is an art. One has to gauge the size of the book, how it is going to be used, cut the pages accordingly and then bind them together neatly. Initially she found it difficult to bind very thick and heavy books. In order to attach the pages to a concisely cut cover, the trick was to paste paper tidily on the cardboard and spruce up the back of the book. She learnt to do all that very easily.

  She needed to acquire certain special tools and learn to use them if she wished to take up book-binding as a commercial ven
ture. She learnt to assess and estimate the time it would take to complete a project. She had given herself a two-week deadline to complete her training and return home.

  Theivanai, who knew nothing about the Muslims and their culture, had held an irrational prejudice that Muslims and Tamils were natural enemies. But now her whole outlook had changed. Thawakkul and her family, and the people in the printing press had all been voluntarily very kind and helpful towards her.

  On the other hand, when her own people learnt that she had fought in the war, they had summarily dismissed her from her part-time post as a book-binder’s assistant. Although she had been bitterly disappointed at the time, with hindsight she realized that it was just as well that she did not have to work in a place where she had suffered humiliation.

  The manager, a repulsive, bald-headed individual with flared nostrils and a thick bristling moustache, had summoned her to his office and had said abruptly, ‘I’m the boss here and I decide whether there is any connection between you and the Tigers. Even if there is no connection, I don’t think this company should unnecessarily run the risk of being accused of colluding with terrorists. I’ll pay you your dues for the days you have worked here and then I want you to leave.’

  She was seething inwardly, but stayed silent. When he was done with his tirade, she walked out, her held high. These people who reject us because we were fighters for the Eelam Movement … we struggled day and night in forests and rough terrain, laying our lives in line, was it just for me and my family? Not for them?

  She understood the change in the attitude of the people who had once believed that the Eelam Movement was their temple and its leader, their god. The Movement had not only failed in its attempts to improve the lot of the people, it had used them as their shields in the war; for these and many similar reasons, the Eelam Movement had earned the people’s resentment. She also thought about the problems within the Movement and the losses that were caused by selfish, traitorous people like her erstwhile employer and his ilk.

  Theivanai felt that as long as the Eelam Liberation Movement strove solely for the welfare of the people, it forged ahead to develop into a formidable force. The moment the leaders began focusing on their own selfish interests, they lost their right to lead a people’s liberation movement.

  The Eelam Liberation Movement began with just causes and each combatant who was drawn to work for those causes had suffered personal sorrows and losses. However, in its later days, the structure of the Movement changed radically, leading to setbacks, complications and fissures within the organization itself.

  Theivanai never really wanted to join the Tigers and fight, but circumstances had made her enlist and take part in the struggle. She had had a normal childhood in a normal home, had friends and went to school. Two incidents that happened in the vicinity where she lived inspired her to become a soldier for the cause.

  In a bid to give employment to educated, unemployed young men who had studied in Muthalaikkuda, a large tract of black-soil wet-lands was converted into a thriving prawn farm. There were more than three hundred workers there. Science graduates and others with managerial skills possessing the ability to rise to positions of responsibility in the future were part of the work-force.

  One dark day, in the year 1987, in broad daylight, the army entered the prawn farm and ruthlessly hunted down the workers and shot them or burnt them alive. It took more than four hours for the army’s macabre dance of fury to abate. That day Muthalaikkuda had been transformed into a village where the stench of shot human flesh and blood pervaded.

  That unforgettable day, when the village was struggling to cope with its role as a cremation ground, Theivanai was only twelve years old. These events made her young heart shrivel within her and she was drawn irresistibly to the uncertain path of liberation.

  ‘Kadavule, they have killed my son! My son, who took up this job only because waiting for a government job would mean death from lack of food. He said even people with university degrees should join this prawn farm and he joined only last month… Kaduvule…’

  ‘You said that once you got your salary, you would buy a cradle for our eldest!’ moaned another

  Mothers, children, wives and relatives, panicking, crying, bodies charred black; those scenes did not let her sleep for many days. The people passed through those days of boundless sorrow in black silence. But she could not forget those dead bodies. Each one of those charred bodies seemed to become streaks of colour that surrounded her, revolved around her and caused a terrible turmoil in her mind. She involuntarily began to fear and hate the army.

  ‘Is killing the only work that people in the army do? Who has given them that right? Instead of going straight to the man with weapons and fighting him, why do they have to kill innocent, unarmed people?’ She couldn’t understand the mindless manslaughter. Instead of locating and capturing the terrorists hoarding the weapons, the army had butchered innocent, unarmed people. She began to fear and hate the army.

  With unanswered questions in her darkness-filled heart, all she could do then was to shed tears with those who were weeping and wailing.

  The grisly saga was repeated in 1991 in the Magiladitheevu area when Theivanai was in class XI. This time she could not just shed tears and be a mute spectator. Her rage at the event made her realize that within her there was a brave heroine who was willing to die a martyr’s death. Almost one hundred and fifty people were killed in the incident in which, nearly twenty-five houses were torched with the inhabitants still inside.

  Hair all dishevelled, a mother was running. ‘Come here fast,’ she shouted. She did not know how to save her daughter who had locked herself in a room, doused herself with kerosene and set herself alight after the rampant soldiers raped her. Her mother lamented and wailed inconsolably. The mother rolled on the ground and cried, ‘They raped her … they raped her …’ She grabbed some gravel and flung it on her own head. No one could control her

  There were several such cases where women had become victims of the army’s sexual violence. Till then, she had never even heard talk of sex or sexual desire and her world seemed to shatter around her.

  These incidents irrevocably ruled out any possible agreements and gave fillip to the Tamil Liberation Movement in their recruitment drive. The Tamil youth were summoned to eradicate evil political forces. ‘One from every home for the Tamil Liberation Movement’ was the slogan and the drive to recruit intensified.

  ‘We have to get our national independence. Only if we get our independence will our society get emancipated. To save our Eelam and our people, come forward, together! We will wipe out the communal forces that want to annihilate us. The dust will not disappear on its own from the places where the broom does not reach. Young people, come forward! We will become brooms to clean off the dust created by the political forces. We will get rid of the forces that want to cheat us and we will get our Eelam!’

  The Movement’s propaganda speeches inspired Theivanai. There was nothing wrong with rebelling against the atrocities of ethnic cleansing. It was better to die opposing and fighting the enemy than to be crushed underfoot. The suppressed minority should claim their legitimate rights and institutions.

  Determined and emotionally charged, Theivanai joined up and walked the shadowy path to an independent homeland. Despite her gentle upbringing, she fearlessly forded rivers on self-made rafts crafted from thick logs roughly bound together, scaled mountains and climbed the tallest of trees to scout for the enemy. Her entire training period was passed in uncharted areas with nary a sign of human inhabitation. Spurred on by the Movement’s propaganda, her hatred for the enemy grew – so much so that she even hated the sight of the statues of the Buddha. These statues – showing the Buddha in hues of gold and white, reclining, sitting cross-legged or standing, seemed to stare at her in anger. She felt it would be an act of greatness to smash them to smithereens.

  Her training lasted for a very short time.

  She was an eager and quick learner and
dauntless on the battlefield. She, who had planted flowering plants and watered them, was now capable of climbing the sky-high trees that obscured the light and observe from there the army’s movements. Even felling thick-trunked trees of kinds that she had never seen before and converting them into rafts to cross rivers became an easy job for her. She was naturally tall and healthy; with rigorous training, she evolved into a true Amazon.

  Theivanai understood and accepted that there was no value system to measure the outcome of a war. It was not a beautiful cultural act. There was no place for restraint or magnanimity in a war where one brave person overpowers another brave person.

  She took part in the third phase, a very important stage in the progress of the Tamil Eelam Movement, following which many of the Tamil areas in the north and the east were brought under the control of the Tamils. During that war, the Movement deployed new weapons and subtle moves. Theivanai had worked very hard for this big victory.

  During the final moments of the battle, Theivanai was critically wounded. The political head of the Movement wrote to her to console her and praise her sacrifice. The letter ran thus:

  Our aims are just. We are people who do not hold back anything when it comes to personal sacrifice for the cause. We do not hesitate to sacrifice even our lives for attaining our objective. For the good of the people countless martyrs have sacrificed their lives. Our minds overflow with sorrow when we think of them. Our heroes’ souls will rest in peace only when their graves are washed with the blood of our enemies. As someone who has carried out such onerous duties, we hold you in high esteem.