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Living
with the horror By
Smriti Daniel and Dhananjani Silva The date was January 31, 1996; a date that would be remembered not just by Sri Lankans, but by the entire international community as one of the most devastating terrorist bombings of the 1990s. Today, ten years later, the event is still a harsh reality they live with for many Sri Lankans. The blast killed 90 people and injured 1,400 others - most of whom were employed at the bank or working in the surrounding locale or just passers-by. At the Central Bank - which was the intended target of the LTTE suicide bombers – 41 people lost their lives and nearly 1000 people were injured. Of this number, 26 people were to be permanently incapacitated. Blindness, loss of limbs, along with varied injuries meant they would never again be able to enjoy the life they had once taken for granted. For other families, the bomb simply snatched away their loved ones, leaving behind a grief that is yet to fade, 10 years down the line. “My youngest son was only three months old when my husband died, the elder was three years old,” says Chandrika Surangi, who was widowed the day the LTTE struck the Central Bank, her husband’s workplace. “I was very young, only 28 and we had barely had four years together,” she says. Her 36-year-old husband, W.A. Shantha was working as a clerk at the bank. As the young woman identified her husband’s body in the morgue, she couldn’t shake off the disbelief. After all, that morning had been like any other, with Shantha leaving to work as usual. But now, she knew he would never be coming home again. Since then Surangi has struggled to overcome her own grief so that she can raise their two children. She has also been taking care of Shantha’s 83-year-old mother, who suffers from paralysis. Much to her sorrow, her youngest son has never come to terms with his father’s death. He tells his friends that his father has gone abroad and will be back in 10 years. Jayanthi Manika Wimalasena was another who was widowed by the blast. She and her four children mourn a man who was only 47 at the time of his death. A staff officer, M.G. Wimalasena, had worked at the Central Bank for 25 years. Her brother initially identified Wimalasena, and later Jayanthi herself was forced to visit the mortuary, to identify her husband’s body. “He was covered with a polythene sheet which they lifted for me to see,” recalls a tearful Jayanthi, adding that “I was so upset that I could not contain my grief.” She was 39 years old when he was killed. Their children, one of whom was doing his A/Ls and the other his O/Ls, were so devastated they were unable to cope with the demands of their examinations. Jayanthi worries that this might have ruined many academic and professional opportunities for them.“Bringing up my four children without their father hasn’t been easy,” she says, “earlier it was just a matter of feeding and clothing them, but now I have to ensure they get a good education, and also a good job. It is I who has to make sure they don’t go astray.” For four other children, their father – Anura Kumara Madurawala - is still with them, but far from untouched by the tragedy. Anura who lost both eyes and his left leg (below the knee), narrates what happened on that fateful day. “I heard some noises, and so I rushed to the window to see what was happening. Barely a moment later, the whole building shook…concrete blocks had been loosened and were falling, the glass had shattered.” All Anura remembers after that one cataclysmic moment was his friend helping him out of the building. He was rushed to hospital where he slipped into a coma that lasted two weeks. When he came out of it, darkness did not give way to light. This 55-year-old man had had his body bruised and battered – so much so that when his son saw him for the first time, the 8-year old fainted. His wife was two months pregnant at the time and so Anura is left sorrowing over the fact that he has never seen and will never see his youngest son. The doctors had wanted to amputate Anura’s wounded left leg but he had been determined to resist. “Now that I am blind, I’m ready to die even, I will not let you chop my leg off,” was what he said at that time, adding that “I don’t care what happens.” He was gripped by absolute despair. The leg went from bad to worse, however, so that five years later, nerve damage was to force Anura to accept amputation. The trauma apart, Anura has had to cope with a fortune spent on hospital bills. The situation was not improved by his wife having to leave her job at the Habib Bank to take care of him 24 hours of the day, week after week. The Central Bank took care of all Anura’s initial medical expenses. Initially he was given a monthly stipend of Rs 17,000 and a compensation of Rs. 29 lakhs. Yet Anura feels the bank has not done all that they should have. Anura, who understandably cannot use public transport, is disappointed that the bank has not offered a satisfactory travel allowance either. Currently, the offer is for Rs. 1,500 a year, which Anura feels there is no point in accepting. The medical bills he puts in are also rejected when they exceed Rs.4,000, Anura reveals, explaining that specialists, x-rays, tests etc cost a lot more for him. For Surangi and Jayanthi also, monetary problems have dogged their heels. For Surangi in particular, her husband’s monthly salary of Rs.10, 000 multiplied by five years has not even begun to compensate for his loss. She received only Rs.7000 for 8 years as a monthly stipend due to errors in calculation. This confusion was resolved only in 2003, after numerous complaints. For Jayanthi, financial constraints have meant that she had to discontinue giving a dane for her husband after a mere three years. She is bitter that more security wasn’t provided, leaving her husband and so many others vulnerable to the terrorist attack.
Another employee, who prefers to remain anonymous, says that he has been able to move on with his life. Having recovered from extensive injuries to his face, he chose to remain at the bank. “Altogether I had 140 wounds all over my body…wounds which they had to stitch up without anaesthesia, because if they had delayed I would have bled to death,” he says. He wears glasses now, though he recalls that he had perfect vision before the incident. He has also had to undergo plastic surgery. “The first thing I remembered after the blast was my two little girls,” he says, “it was such a traumatic experience…a battle for survival…” In
the end, survivors and victims alike, are still trying to cope with
a tragedy that was not of their making. Families, friends, colleagues,
and even strangers found themselves in the same nightmare that day,
ten years ago. This anniversary of terror is witness to the many
people who are struggling desperately to leave the horror behind
and yet mourn as Alfred Lord Tennyson did – How
the Central Bank helped A total of Rs.96.7 million was distributed amongst the families of the 41 individuals who had lost their lives, while Rs.53 million was distributed amongst those permanently incapacitated by the blast. Since then, bank spokespersons say, the Welfare Department has kept an eye on the victims, helping in any way they can. In addition, “we hired social workers from the National Hospital to help people cope with psychological trauma,” stressed the spokesperson, adding that a series of lectures was given to the staff to help them adjust. “We understand that there can be no compensation for someone losing their sight, for instance, but there is only so much we can do as a public institution,” said the spokesperson. |
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Copyright © 2001 Wijeya Newspapers
Ltd. All rights reserved. |
The
blast shook the capital for miles around. Everywhere people stopped
in their tracks, staring at the ominous plume of debris and smoke
rising in a column from the heart of the city. Fire trucks and rescue
personnel raced to the scene as the news spread – the Central
Bank had been bombed! The buildings around were severely damaged.
Even at that very moment people were injured, dying, dead. 
