Ummath

by Sharmila Seyyid

  Thawakkul composed herself, realizing that she was thinking these thoughts in the most unsuitable of circumstances. Theivanai came in just as the guests were about to leave and Thawakkul introduced Theivanai to them.

  ‘Thawakkul, you use your house as a social centre. A Muslim girl… as your Vappa said, you are crossing many social and cultural barriers and…’

  ‘My faith in Allah and the love and support that I get from my parents and sisters enables me to continue doing the work I do.’

  ‘I hope that we can continue working together. Do give me your proposals for further projects.’

  Vappa and Umma stayed by her side as she saw them off at the door.

  ‘Akka, you could have talked to them about doing something for me,’ said Theivanai after the guests had departed and her face showed her disappointment.

  ‘Why? You’re receiving your training, aren’t you?’

  ‘My training ended today,’ said Theivanai. ‘They even gave me a little farewell party.’

  Thawakkul and her sisters laughed.

  ‘Farewell party … You should have given them a farewell treat for having trained you. They must have grown very fond of you. We too will give Theivanai a farewell treat!’ announced Nisha and everyone laughed happily. Thawakkul felt that this was the first time their home was filled with such merriment after her wedding plans had fallen through.

  Stopping Nisha in her tracks, Theivanai shouted, ‘You keep quiet, Amma! You too have started teasing me. Akka, please listen to me!’

  It had been two weeks since Theivanai had arrived there. She had become one of the family and had learnt to ask for what she wanted, refuse what she did not want and be absolutely natural in her dealings with everyone.

  ‘Everyone is laughing because they are listening to you! But go on, tell us…’ Thawakkul said, still smiling.

  ‘Akka, my training is over. But to start work, I need to buy some small tools. I need a little board to advertise myself. There will be some expense, won’t there? If we had told them that, they would have given the money.’

  ‘They work for the rehabilitation of widows. But because you are just one case perhaps we can seek their help. In two days time, I am going to Negombo. I will also be going to Colombo. I have some work with Wanasundara Sir…I will speak to him and try…If not we can ask some other organization.’

  Theivanai sighed in relief.

  Umma and Vappawere were surprised at this mention of the trip to Negombo. ‘You didn’t say anything about going to Negombo. When are you going?’ Umma asked.’

  ‘I came to know of it only today, Umma. I saw the invitation on email this morning. It’s a women-only conference. The women social workers from all over Sri Lanka will be attending the programme. I should definitely be there.’

  Her Vappa looked at her with misgiving. He did not want her to go but did not know how to tell her that. ‘Why, Vappa, what’s wrong? I hope you have no objection.’

  ‘Magal, Allah can see your thoughts and deeds, but people are not like that. When I went for Zuhr prayer at the mosque today, I met Nawaz Moulavi, head of Jamiyyathul-Ulema in our village. He said that he had received a letter making all sorts of allegations against you,’ his voice faltered as he uttered the last of those words.

  Nisha’s face fell.

  ‘Who else would have written a letter? That must be Sufiyan’s work,’ said Jana angrily.

  ‘Vappa, what else did Nawaz Moulavi say?’ Thawakkul asked calmly.

  ‘He said “Thawakkul is a good girl, but we do have to investigate when something like this comes up. We ignored this letter because it was the first. If any other letter comes after this, we will be obliged to enquire and take action. Why do you send your daughter out and get into such problems? She is an educated girl, she can do some respectable job. Habeeb, if girls take up jobs that should be done by men, there is bound to be trouble.”’

  ‘Akka, just because he is a Moulavi, can he say anything? He…’

  Theivanai asked the question in anger. All this was new to her. Though she understood the literal meaning of what they were saying, she could not fathom why they were making such a fuss about it. But no one was in any mood to answer and the question remained a question.

  Thawakkul was sure that the main purpose of writing such a letter could only be to shame her, cause her a lot of problems and then watch the fun. Set the cat among the pigeons. Her primary concern now was to protect herself from this sort of attack.

  Habeeb and Nisha continued talking about it.

  ‘Thawakkul never listens to anything we say … Something bad is going to happen to us … Who is there on our side to ask questions on our behalf … We are uneducated and we are not wealthy … We have no one in our family who has power and influence to help if we get into trouble … They know all that; that is why they are doing this. No, magal, don’t do all this, just stay at home…’

  There was reason in Umma’s moaning but it still irritated Thawakkul. She stood there frozen, she yearned for freedom, but how was she going to get it? Inextinguishable embers of her desire for freedom were burning within her.

  The thoughts that flashed through Thawakkul’s mind were along the lines of, ‘Allah knows I have done nothing wrong. Will these people condemn me on the strength of a malicious letter? Don’t I have to know what they are accusing me of? Don’t they have to prove the wrongs which they are accusing me of with proper evidence? Do I have to submit to this harassment?’

  Aloud she said, ‘Let them investigate this matter according to Islamic Shariya laws. If they can prove it, I will accept whatever punishment is meted out to me.’ This totally unexpected declaration left everyone dumbfounded. Umma and Vappa just looked at one another in despair

  Thawakkul went into her room, shut the door and leaned against it. She used the edge of her sari to pat away the tears that came involuntarily. Pressing her chest with her hand, she managed to regain her equilibrium. She prayed to clear her mind. She had faith that Allah would resolve this new problem.

  ‘You, who have given me a compassionate mind, show me the way to get out of this difficult situation. You are the witness to my actions. I won’t bow down to anyone but you.’

  10

  Just as Sathuriyan had predicted, cracks appeared in the Peace Treaty. Differences of opinion and conflicts arose as the two sides eyed each other with suspicion and mistrust.

  The Sinhalese side and the Tamil Tigers accused each other of collaborating with the Norwegian committee that had come to broker peace, alleging that the foreign committee had come with the sole intention of looting the country. Politicians raised a hue and cry both inside and outside parliament.

  Did the Sri Lankan soil sprout gold that Norway would want to loot them? Was Norway in such a lowly position in comparison with Sri Lanka? Did Norway really need to lift itself by leaning on Sri Lanka’s shoulders? Such were the questions that were debated everywhere.

  The Tiger cadres, who had given up all semblance of normalcy in their lives, were now beginning to change their outlook on life. The Peace Treaty had kindled their desire for regular lives and they bitterly regretted having wasted so many years, time that could never be redeemed; many absconded from their units. Rumours were rife that the delegates, sent to negotiate the peace treaties, had spent their time in five-star luxury. This made the Tiger cadres feel badly let down. There were also reports of marital infidelity in the administrative side of the Movement, with women who had been supplied by the Sinhalese government. The Tamil Liberation Movement seemed tarnished by basic human desires.

  The Sri Lankan government was successful in its pretence of firmly adhering to a peace treaty while cleverly subverting the moral fibre of the Tigers who had been firm in their moral stance for more than two decades.

  While it was true that the idealism instilled into the cadres through decades of training could not be obliterated by clever speeches and treaties or by the lure of luxury trips, the Sri Lankan government had real
ized that the only way to gain the trust of one’s enemies is to trick them by befriending them, not by forcing them into submission. Unfortunately the Movement understood these clever ploys only when it was too late.

  Every now and then there were instances of the peace treaty being violated by incidents of clashes and attacks.

  Yoga received a letter from Sathuriyan.

  Every word of that letter remained imprinted in Yoga’s memory for ever:

  My dearest Yoga,

  I hope that you’re well and not facing any problems with your safety. I’m in no danger. I’ve been working tirelessly since I arrived. However, I can’t tell you about all that in a letter. Every so often, your beautiful face comes to my mind. I can never forget you. You’re a lovely person and you were born for me. Don’t worry about anything. I’ll come back. We’ll tell the commanders about our love and get married. Be courageous.

  Reply to the address given below. I’ll be here only for a short while and then I’ll move to another place in connection with some important work.

  Loving you,

  Sathuriyan

  His words gave her great comfort. They seemed to caress her heart and heal her wounds with a touch as gentle as the fluttering wings of a bird. He had given an address in Mullaitheevu district.

  My love,

  The joy that your letter gave me cannot be described in words. I think of you all the time. I am waiting for the day when you will come and take me away.

  My training in electronics is over and I’ve got an internationally valid certification. I would have been so happy if you had been here when I was awarded the certificate.

  I know that our separation is only temporary and that a very happy life awaits us. I’m eagerly waiting for that day.

  Always yours,

  Yoga

  There were no more letters from Sathuriyan, although Yoga wrote a few more letters to him. She knew he wouldn’t be in that address for very long, so she stopped writing any further missives.

  Many months went by in this very disquieting manner. Time did not increase the distance between them but actually brought her closer to Sathuriyan. Time may have the power to forget. Distance does not have that power. She filled up her longings and her thirst for love not with time but with his memories. Yoga was waiting with faith for his return.

  A shop was being set up for the eight girls who had undergone the training where they would repair electronic devices.

  A fierce war was raging in the Manalaru area with the army trying to capture the Tamil Liberation Movement’s Kokkilai, Kokkuthoduvai and Thambipirivilai camps. The jungles of Manalaru was the principal artery of the Tamil Tiger controlled areas. It was the lifeline that connected their northern and eastern regions.

  Thoughts of Sathuriyan put Yoga under a lot of mental pressure. She could not rid herself of the fear that something might have happened to him.

  Her heart soared with happiness when a letter from Sathuriyan arrived. For a long while she hugged the letter tight to her chest. She then opened it with great care. He had written just a few lines.

  Yoga my darling, duty is forcing itself to precede love. Please do not be angry with me. Do not lose hope. The situation is now really very bad. I think you will be aware of all this. Be brave. God will not desert us. I am going to Batticaloa. I have no idea for how long I will be at any address. I will go there and gauge the situation and then write to you.

  Your own,

  Sathuriyan

  The letter seemed to have been scribbled in a hurry and the content between the lines held an ominous portent. His usual beautiful writing was missing from the letter and it seemed to have been written in a great hurry. Something seemed to knead her heart when she realized this. For him to say, ‘God will not desert us,’ when all along he had been boldly saying that he would come to take her hand, seemed like a very bad omen. She felt that the words seemed to indicate that he had lost his self-confidence. Her instinct told her that he was in danger. She ceaselessly prayed for a miracle to ensure that no harm befell him and that one day they would have a life together.

  Just as he had indicated, the situation became really bad.

  The electronics repair shop was set up, complete with tools and equipment. There were two days left for the shop’s inauguration, when the news broke out:

  ‘The army has captured our areas in Akkarayankulam by coming through the Mannar forests.’

  ‘The army is approaching the borders of Kilinochchi.’ ‘All the women ex-warriors in the rehabilitation centre should go to Udayarkattu.’

  The girls rushed to make preparations to leave.

  As all the people of Kilinochchihad asked for asylum in Mullaitivu, there was a heavy rush of people. The crowding and the fact that they had had no food made it very difficult for people to move. People died in droves caught in the heavy shelling from both sides. Whichever side you turned to, you would see piles of corpses. Some burnt bodies were still spewing smoke. The breeze wafted the smell of blood and the smell of charred bodies mixed with the stench of death; all around death held sway. It was like a picture of a graveyard with evil spirits following everyone. Children and pregnant women fell sick with strange contagious diseases. This was human degradation at its worst.

  Yoga slid down, her body and mind too exhausted to take any more. ‘I cannot go on. I can’t bear any more of this. Please leave me here and go…’

  ‘Is this the time to get tired? We have to protect our lives. Come on, get up!’

  Her colleagues encouraged her.

  Those who encouraged her themselves sat down exhausted from the effort, a little later. Then others had to come and encourage them. Then those in turn gave up on the situation. Eventually every one of them was severely exhausted, both mentally and physically.

  The lengths of their sojourns in each new place gradually decreased from fortnights to short five-day halts. As they approached Mullivaikkal, they noticed people from Kilinochchi and Mullaitheevu districts herded together. They remained peacefully in Mullaivaikal for about a month, although it was not real peace. It was a break during which they could recharge their physical and mental strength.

  Some people were going around like creatures possessed, looking for their brothers or sisters or spouses who had come with them but had got lost in the crowds. It was a common sight to see parents who had no idea what had happened to their little children. Tiny children with bulging eyes ran around desperately looking for their parents. ‘Have you seen my father, have you seen my mother,’ they asked inconsolably of everyone they encountered. Some were mourning for their dead who could not even be properly interred.

  The break was abruptly interrupted by a Kfir aircraft that had somehow tracked down the fleeing refugees and ruthlessly bombarded them. Panicking humans stampeded in terror. Cluster bombs exploded in the air and fanned out to wreak havoc in ever widening circles.

  They thronged to Vella Mullivaikkal. The small village was packed like a can of sardines with the influx of refugees from two districts. The space available narrowed with the shelling from all directions and the bombs raining from the Kfir aircraft; the dead piled up with no way of burying the bodies. The earth was soaked with blood. There was no succour for the wounded. Some sat crying with the shattered bodies of their loved ones on their laps. Like people who had lost their minds, some went around looking at all the dead bodies. Everyone seemed to be looking for someone that they had lost. But they only met disappointment. Some were injured and hence could not run and moaned as they lay limp and sagging. Many perished, crushed under the legs of those who were running. Such was that ‘battle-field’! And such were the war-wounds it inflicted…

  A mother and her baby feeding at her breast had both slid down together. When Yoga and some of her fellow-Tigers went to help them, their lives had already departed. Water and blood had congealed on their bodies.

  ‘Do you see these bodies? They don’t look as if they have been burnt to death…’ Yoga said as she
turned their bodies around. The innocent little baby had its lips pouting and eyes closed. She covered the bared breast of the mother by pulling up the edge of her sari.

  ‘It looks like they’re using chemical weapons which could be causing sudden death like this,’ said Malarvizhi, quickly scanning the bodies. Yamuna nodded in agreement.

  ‘Aren’t chemical weapons banned? Who is using them? Is it us, or the Sri Lankan army?’

  ‘Whoever is doing it, is committing a war-crime.’

  Yoga wondered whether this was her penalty for courting death and wanting to die. She was being forced to live on to witness such horrors. But now when she was in circumstances where it was easy to die, she wanted to continue living. Whenever she passed masses of corpses, her hands involuntarily joined together in prayer.

  She didn’t want to die any longer.

  ‘God save me,’ she muttered under her breath. ‘Save my Sathuriyan. Even if I’m not destined to live with Sathuriyan even for a day, before I die, I want to at least look at him once, fill my eyes with him … Can’t this tragedy be stopped? Why do you keep killing people? Can the world not hear the anguished “Stop, please stop!” rising from these people? Do you see this injustice? Even the “congee sheds” that were set up by private organizations to feed the hungry have been shelled. More than a hundred people, including children, have died.’

  ‘Kayalvizhi, I cannot bear to see such scenes anymore.’

  ‘Yoga, what can we do? God has ordained that we have to see all this.’

  ‘Do you see those people run? Pregnant women and lactating mothers were told that they would be given nutritious food. When large crowds of such women assemble there, Kfir aircraft came and bombed them!’