Two interesting, and well written letters on the above appeared in this column during the past couple of weeks. One was written by Shehan Jayawardene on the need to speak against what is happening around us today, and the other by Anne Abayasekera, as to why we fail to speak up, as a community, against such horrendous happenings. Anne Abayasekera opines that people fail to speak up and assert their rights because of the fear psychosis that afflicts us.

Perhaps there are other reasons why people do not speak against what is considered to be anti-democratic. One such reason is that not all see what is happening around us today as being ‘wrong’. There are many who justify as proper what others see as horrendous or undemocratic. This is on account of the polarization of the Sri Lankan community.

We are divided along the lines of race, religion, and political affiliations. On account of the allegiance to one’s political party or on account of ‘patriotism’ or ‘nationalism’, one either refuses to accept as wrong what is wrong or prefers to turn a blind eye to what is happening. People who fall into these categories mistakenly believe that things will eventually return to normal with democracy lost being restored to what is guaranteed in the Constitution. It will be hard to regain what is lost as those who deprived people of their democratic rights would have by then tasted the power of governance sans democratic values.
Another reason perhaps is that our culture is such that we as citizens ‘mind our own business’. If the question is put to the average man, he would say ‘ aney ithing kata kata kiyala wedek thiyanawaye’ (translated loosely it means ‘what is the point in speaking? Nothing will happen even if we speak). This is indeed very true. Post-independence history does not reveal evidence of Governments being sensitive to public opinion. The civil society on its own has failed to make any impact on Government policy, and the so-called voice of the people has only been amplified through party political machinery.

This explains why even today protests, rallies etc are organized by political parties, and by trade unions affiliated to political parties. We lack civil leaders free of political sponsorship, to give leadership to civil society. Burdened with unprecedented economic hardships, one wonders whether the average citizen of Sri Lanka has any strength left to stand up and speak.

Adding insult to injury, a citizen’s right to speak through the vote is also in serious jeopardy given the manner in which elections are conducted.

Freedom

We are writers they are journalists.
We write fiction they seek facts

We follow our muse they work to live
It isn't safe can't get involved

What are words, are they for pleasure
Are they to soothe, are they to lull?

Or do they give information
Conveying fact; enlightenment?

Unless 'that' journalist parked his car
Headlamps on, outside his gate

Whisked himself off somewhere, for hours,
Limping back when search was on

And unless he, while on his spree,
Beat himself up with practised force

Professional, practised,
Brutal force

Somebody did
This injustice.

Stirred up by an unfortunate incident some weeks back, I wrote this poem meaning to convey concern over the alleged abuse of the rights of a fellow human. The time, I think, has come when natural reticence, the unwillingness to get involved, the fear of what 'they' might do has to recede in importance compared to the seeming injustices encountered by persons seeking to present facts, objective opinions or just the other side of the story.

But did this poem succeed; did it express even half of what I want to say? Does it convey even a jot of the intense feeling I have for this country of my birth? Or the anguish shared by many at the utter waste of human life, and natural resources we blink at every day?

I think not.
The answer, to me at least, was obvious. I had to write another poem. This was to be a grandiose piece, not born in an instant like the first poem. Having conceived the notion I nurtured it, pondered over its form and future, and agonized over its creation.

I wanted to bring out the suffering hidden beneath magnificent façade; the ruthless nature of power over faceless millions, all over the world and throughout history. Corners might be cut, rules may become fluid, one might say the end justifies the means - often enough, loud enough and forcefully enough, until it becomes believable - but does it?

How to say all this in one poem which for some reason came out as three verses totalling 15 lines? Sharing this first draft with friends I received much constructive criticism. One was dislike for the word 'pulchritude'. No one, I was told would know what it means. Look it up in a dictionary! I say, adding, "It means beauty, men, and it 'goes'." So it stays.

The other phrase, with which I too had a problem, was "fist and jackboot" - I did change that.
However, I decided to present it to the world in all its newborn complexity. Infinite possibilities; teeming with problems; tremendous amount of work to be done

Freedom

The fortress rose majestic through and on the rock, attracting
beauty, freedom to express in graphic verse opinion mirroring
frescoed pulchritude on exposed walls, while concealing
patricide. Another wall, another place, - a noble king
pent, suffering; crushed by ambition exceeding.
Pillars rose, walls, pyramids; historic wonders still enjoyed
by touring masses; marvellous structured engineerings hide
masonry of bones, sweat, blood; labour enforced, control employed
with professional, practised, brutal, force.
Will, life, destroyed
for monument of steel and stone, or dogged yet transient dynastic pride.
Let rise this land so threefold blest from walls and chains - where trust is
ephemeral - where fist and coercion reign - for ev'ry hero's enemy must his
Enemy's hero be. Repeatedly in history a brother slaughters brother - let us
not cry 'encore' but thrust onward unity! Onward, onward, peace!
And beneath each rallying cry, yet visible to each native eye, let run the course of justice.
I see it is very rough indeed, very raw. Almost, I feel discouraged. Yet I believe, in myself, in our country, in all people.

As to the subject, I hope for justice tempered with mercy.

By M.T.L. Ebell