Appreciations

His life was a protest against chauvinism, nationalism

Today, is the second death anniversary of Neelan Tiruchelvam. Published here are extracts of a tribute by Prof Ashis Nandy.

One person who I had hoped would write my obituary was Neelan Tiruchelvam, the gifted Sri Lankan public intellectual, institution-builder and practical idealist. He was a few years younger than me and certainly looked more energetic and fitter. I often used to brag that, after my death, my enemies would have to confront a more formidable phalanx of like-minded intellectual-activists. Neelan was one of the persons I had in mind. Time and reality have a way of subverting our dreams.

Today, I have to write his obituary. It reminds me of the old Roman-or is it Greek? - definition of the tragedy of war. 

War, it says, reverses the normal order of things: instead of the young burying the old, the old bury the young. 

Perhaps, we in South Asia will have to get used to the idea of living in a state of perpetual war in the new century.

Neelan and I met for the first time in the late 1960s at Chicago. He was then still a student and I a young, unsure researcher. 

We almost immediately struck up a friendship that lasted more than 30 years until, two years ago, his life was cut short by a suicide bomber in the quiet, smiling streets of Colombo. 

Appropriately enough, he was killed by someone from his own community. The killer and those who remote-controlled him evidently believed - like Nathuram Vinayak Godse and James Earl Ray, the assassins of Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi and Martin Luther King, respectively - that the ideas and their political forces their victim represented could be thus banished from public life. Fanatics never recognise that ideas cannot be assassinated; violence only further empowers them.

All the newspapers in India and abroad that I saw after the assassination described Neelan as a moderate Tamil politician. 

This is conventionality pushed to absurdity. Neelan was not a moderate politician, gingerly espousing a sectarian cause. 

He was much more radical in his vision, ideology and intellectual framework than those who killed him in the name of an ideology precariously perched on nineteenth-century concepts of nation-state, nationalism and revolutionary violence. The federal, decentralised polity that he fought for in Sri Lanka was part of a larger vision that encompassed the whole of South Asia, still ruled by a culture of politics that was essentially a creation of the first generation of post-independence leaders, inspired by their exposure to-and admiration for-European imperial states. This culture of politics depended heavily upon bureaucracies that were illegitimate progenies of colonialism and the wog imperium it left behind. 

In such a culture, a centralised, all-powerful nation-state, modelled on colonial regimes, was one of the axioms of public life. To question it was to question sanity and reason, apart from patriotism. 

Not merely many of his friends, but even his assassins must have loathed that part of Neelan's vision. 

Neelan was also one of the few scholars in South Asia who worked in the critical area of law and society and established it during the 1970s and 1980s as a crucial area of social knowledge in the region. 

Neelan was a practising lawyer in addition to being a practising social scientist and politician. 

Indeed, his vision mediated between his intellectual and his public life. They were means of establishing a dialogue between vision, institutions and scholarship.

I sometimes suspect that it was his exposure to politics that gave the touch of generosity and tolerance to Neelan's endeavours. Many, who talk of his moderation, have in mind actually his inclusiveness and his capacity to work with immense diversities. 

Yet, paradoxically, both these traits transcended his politics. 

They had something to do with his ethical self. Among the dozens of obituaries of Neelan I have read, one of the few that have moved me deeply is by Veena Das. In it she recognises that his compassion would have even included in its scope the young suicide-bomber who took his life, fired by ideologies of violence, hatred and self-destruction that were designed to give meaning to an otherwise empty life. 

He would have sensed that the killer did not have much control over his own life and actions in any case.

Neelan Tiruchelvam was one of the great South Asians I have had the privilege to know. His post-nationalist universality had deep roots in Sri Lankan politics and culture and reflected his capacity to embody that embattled, threatened species: the Sri Lankan Tamil, proudly Sri Lankan and proudly Tamil.

Of those thus sacrificed at the altar of chauvinism and blood-thirstiness, Neelan was one of the most irreplaceable. 

He had to be killed, probably because he could so confidently and gracefully cross the barriers of states, cultures, religions and nationalities, both within Sri Lanka and outside. 

His life itself must have looked like a protest against all forms of chauvinism and ethno-religious nationalism. By being himself, he could be, as I have already pointed out, a formidable enemy.

The space for South Asia as an intellectual, political and cultural entity has shrunk with Neelan Tiruchelvam's senseless death. I feel old and tired.

Malli, you will always live in my heart

On that fateful day of July 31, two years ago, my Malli's voice was stilled forever.

I still recollect how he used to sing beautifully from a young age. He enlivened many a party with his golden voice. Even when he was in a serious mood, he used to render songs of his favourite singers like Edward Jayakody or Amaradeva. It was his way of getting over a problem. But more golden than his voice was his heart. 

He was always ready to lend a helping hand to anyone in need. He was kind and generous and could not say no to anyone who needed his help. His soldiers were like his own children. 

Their problems were his own and on numerous occasions he went out of his way to resolve them. 

My Malli's loyalty was not limited to his friends. He was fiercely loyal to the Sri Lanka Army, his regiment, superior officers, colleagues and soldiers. We shared many wonderful experiences together during our childhood. Young, mischievous and carefree, he was my best friend, as I was his. It was Malli who brought out the joy and laughter in my life during those growing up years. I loved him profoundly and mourn him in death. 

With the passing of time, many may resign themselves to the thought that he is no more. But to me he will not be a mere memory. My one and only Malli will be alive in my heart forever.

May he not meet an untimely death of this nature in his journey through Sansara.

Manisha Namal Seneviratne

Love and compassion her forte 

It is with a heavy heart that I pen a few lines in memory of my beloved friend Bella, who departed from us on June 19. She spoke to me just one week before her death to say she was in perfect health. 

Bella was a sincere friend, full of joy, overflowing with love and compassion, and one you could trust. Even in trials and tribulations, she never turned bitter or became disgruntled with life. It was amazing to see that even when those whom she trusted chose to throw mud at her, she only felt sadness but never bitterness. 

This was a quality in Bella I marvelled also.

She trusted in Jesus Christ, and was always ready to go to her permanent abode. All those who knew her intimately, especially her two children, to whom she was devoted, will miss her.

I weep because I will never see her or hear her voice again, but console myself that she is in a better place. 

She will live in the hearts of all those who loved, cared and appreciated her. Adieu, my beloved Bella, till we meet on that beautiful shore. 

Tara De Silva

Sincere and straightforward

I would like to pay a hum ble tribute to James Bernard, a well-known personality in the Methodist Church, and friend whom I have known for half a century. 

I first came to know him when I was a student boarder at the BIH in Wellawatte - a well known Methodist institution. He was not only a student, but also its Warden for nearly 25 years. He and his wife Phyllis worked for the boys with a sense of dedication and made the institution what it is today. When it was suggested that this institution should be closed, James with a few old boys pleaded with the then president of the Methodist Church not to take such action, as it served the very poorest in society. Orphan boys came from as far as Point Pedro and Hambantota, but this institution served all irrespective of caste or creed. 

James worked hard for the Methodist Church in Wellawatte to which he had been attached since he was seven years old. He was sincere, honest and straightforward. He was unpopular many a time as he stood for what was right and was always on the side of the under-dog. He was my Sunday schoolteacher, and started the Sunday school at BIH with volunteer Christian teachers from the Government Training College, which was temporarily situated in Pamankade. He was also a member of the Colombo South Society for many years. After he left BIH, he worked at Methodist Headquarters and later with mentally handicapped children, till he died. 

He leaves behind a large number of friends in the church, the neigbourhood and the institutions he served. His relatives all loved him, and his wife, Phyllis was by his side for 48 years.

Willie Wijeratne 

Till we meet again

Tis an year since you left your loved ones so dear 
Leaving wife, children, friends and all 
Harkened you to the great God's call. 
Your letters, visits and calls we miss 
Patiently listened we to your advice - no hiss. 

Interruptions you did detest very much
"First listen to what I've got to say," wasn't it such?
A mother you were to your kids at a time
When you lulled them to sleep with a sweet little rhyme.
To lull babes to sleep you had a magic touch 
All who knew you would agree it was such. 
You gave to your children the best you could 
And helped them from the cradle as a father should. 

Your children are now grown up, well and not in pain
The fruits of your labour are now a gain. 
Your last bit of advice keeps dangling in my mind ; 
When will I, the answer to it find?
Many a change is now taking place
Strength I need the future to face. 
You to reach Heaven daily I pray 
Including all family members gone that way. 
I long for the day when we would meet, 
In the heavenly kingdom at God's great feet. 

Sister Norma 

A guru who brought joy

July 23 marked the death anniversary of Fr. Basil Mendis. All those who knew him and loved him have paid their own tributes to this Man of God. May I add mine?

I first met Basil Mendis, then an active lay person in the church, when I entered Peradeniya for my studies. Those were the days when Peradeniya, apart from being a beautiful campus was known for its fine galaxy of stars who sojourned the firmament of the Peradeniya sky. Basil Mendis being no exception.

Basil taught us Philosophy, the History of Greek philosophy, from Thales to Aristotle. Basil used to be attired in self designed clothes. Before we entered Peradeniya, we knew Basil as the person who had propounded the theory that the earth was flat. So we were very curious about this.

However, he was not a mystery. In his gentle, articulate and clear manner he taught us. 

It was a joy to be in his class. Soon our class grew in number. Basil attracted a number of students, so those who were not reading Philosophy as a subject also used to attend these classes. One of them is now a well known figure in the world of Sinhala theatre. 

Another lives in retirement in Washington after having worked in the World Bank.

After we left Peradeniya, we kept in touch with him. I must confess that in the midst of his return to the Mother Church he found it difficult to accept me as a person ordained properly. 

Unfortunately, he became very traditional. Despite this theological difference, we continued to be friends and the traditional guru/ shishya link was intact.

The last time I met him was when he spoke in the Alumni of the Colombo campus. All I could do when I heard about his death was to thank God for my teacher and be present at the Requiem Mass. Well done, faithful priest of the Lord. May your soul rest in peace and rise in glory.

Fr. Sydney Knight

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