Many eulogies and appreciations have been published about Lasantha Wickrematunge since his tragic death on January 8, and many more will follow. But then, when a country loses a man who almost single-handedly took on the unjust and the corrupt, who time and again proved fearlessly that even gods have clay feet, what else could be expected?
I first met Lasantha when I was only 17. The Sunday Times was only a few moths old when I joined the newspaper as a freelance sports journalist in 1987, while I was still in school. Lasantha and his wife Raine were so easy to get on with that soon we were good friends. This was more the norm than the exception. They had few or no colleagues – they mostly had friends.
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There were two reasons for this. On the one hand, if ever you needed any assistance, if ever you were in the slightest bit of trouble or even discomfort, you didn’t have to ask them for assistance – they would ask you. This was the case with both Lasantha and Raine. That some of their family members spent an enormous amount of their time and resources doing charitable deeds, like educating poor children, may have had some influence on Lasantha and Raine’s admirable approach towards others. Not just human beings, even animals. That’s why important occasions in their lives were often celebrated by deeds such as releasing cattle marked for slaughter or celebrating the day with orphans.
On the other hand, it did not matter to Lasantha whether others were rich or poor, whether they dressed well or not, whether they spoke good English or not, whether they had house and property or not. What mattered to Lasantha was that they were human beings.There was another attribute to Lasantha that was truly admirable – simplicity, not just in name but in deed. Show me another person of his status who would wander the streets in a Maruti. Not because he could not afford a grander vehicle but because it did not matter to him. He would even go to a friend’s party in slippers, not due to lack of respect but because simplicity was his nature. He was simple in every sense of the word.
Lasantha’s good nature was not reflected in his work. That was because he was a pro-fide journalist. When he left the bar to take up journalism on a full-time basis, the bar lost a good lawyer. When he was lost to journalism, the country lost a good citizen. His contribution to journalism in Sri Lanka, and to Sri Lanka as a journalist, was selfless in its truest and broadest sense. His legacy will live on.
Lasantha and Raine’s youngest son Aadesh, 10, wanted, until Lasantha’s tragic death, to be a scientist. But now his resolve to follow in his father’s footsteps is apparent. This is perhaps payback for the Dad who would venture into the adjoining gardens with Avinash and Aadesh and potter about the bushes, when Mom had just thrown their video games out of the window in sheer exasperation. Perhaps payback for the Dad who showered his children with unlimited toys, chocolates, money, and even unlimited freedom, again not entirely to Mom’s approval. Gratitude for the Dad who showered his children with unlimited love.
If his children do take up journalism, wherever in the world they may be, the corrupt had better watch out. The silver lining in this cloud may be too thin yet to be seen by the naked eye, but time will tell. Perhaps that is why Richard Bach wrote in his book, “Illusions”: “What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the master calls a butterfly”.
Lasantha was only 50 at the time of his death, too young for a man of his valour to go. But then age is the wrong yardstick to measure his life.
It is not the years in his life but the life in his years that Lasantha will be remembered for. An hour of Lasantha’s life was worth a year in many another person’s life.
By Thilan Senaratne |
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