5th Column

My dear Victor Ivan,

We were saddened to hear that you had left us for the Land of Never Return this week. Still, it is fitting to write now to someone who wrote so much for so long without fear of any consequences. If anything, this is possibly the best time to reflect on the life you led and the times you lived in.

You were ‘Podi Athula’ before you came to be known as Victor. That was the name the rathu sahodarayas gave you. Then, barely in your 20s, you were fighting their cause. You couldn’t participate in the April 5 insurrection in ’71 because you injured yourself while making bombs!

That was how you got injured and lost part of your hand. That didn’t stop the authorities from naming you as the seventh suspect in the court case that followed the failed insurrection. You were sent to prison for several years for your efforts until JR released all of you after his election victory in ’77.

Later you were to call the ’71 insurgency a ‘foolish dream’. Out of prison, you took to journalism, launching Raavaya, initially as a magazine and then as a newspaper. That was perhaps your finest hour because Raavaya soon became a source for information that could not be found elsewhere.

In the late ’80s, Paradise was a land of desperation. Armed conflict raged both in the North and South. There were killings galore by the Tigers, the Reds and the State. There was no social media, just a few television channels and newspapers. ‘Voice cuts’ were not in vogue. Real news was hard to come by.

You ran Raavaya in this environment, boldly criticising all those who engaged in killing sprees. You managed to do so and still survive. You became a reliable voice for the opposition which was then virtually in hiding. Your credibility was such, that people read what you wrote and believed you too.

Your strength was your different style. Your newspaper was small in size but big in explosive content. It was published in stark black and white and had hardly any advertisements. It was not a business model that most would endorse, but you still made it work, and for several decades too.

In this role, you became a ‘Queen Maker’. Many credit you and Raavaya with propelling Satellite into power. There was resentment against the Greens, but people had to be convinced to hand over power to an untried and untested lady whose only qualification was her surname. You did that so well.

It didn’t take long for your greatest achievement to become your greatest mistake. As Satellite began governing in her own style, you began criticising her words and deeds. She carried on regardless, filing several cases of criminal defamation against you. You took these cases to the UN and won.

You particularly disliked who she anointed as the high priest of Hulftsdorp. To mark that, you ran a banner headline screaming ‘The Death Knell of Judicial Independence” on a black background with a photo of the swearing-in printed upside down. That became an iconic moment in your journalism.

Your colleagues fought with you to repeal the laws of criminal defamation with Uncle Ranil’s support even while Satellite was still in office. You also filed a case against her acquiring a land and won again. You went on to write a book about her which you titled ‘Chaura Rejina’ or ‘Bandit Queen’.

After Satellite’s exit from power, you continued to comment and criticise on issues that affected us, but  we didn’t see the same activism and passion in your words, Victor. Somehow and for some reason, the fire inside the small-made man who took on political giants appeared to have been doused.

Your strong words and strident voice were not loudly heard when Mahinda maama was in charge. In fact, when the Raavaya celebrated its 25th anniversary, he was the chief guest at the event where he said the celebration was evidence of his commitment to media freedom. Many found that hilarious!

We heard from you most recently, admiring what Uncle Ranil did after the aragalaya. You were at odds with governments he was part of in the past. Yet, you cited the economic recovery he began after Gota maama fled and urged people to vote for him, instead of voting for Sajith or Anura sahodaraya.

Your journey began as a comrade for the rathu sahodarayas. Then, you fervently opposed the Greens to bring the Blues to power. Ironically, your journey ended when you strongly endorsed the evergreen Uncle Ranil and wanted him retained, but the rathu sahodarayas won, so you have come a full circle!

It is also a coincidence that you left us in January, a few days after the 16th death anniversary of another fearless colleague, Lasantha and a few days before the release of a movie about the death of Richard, another courageous journalist, both being murdered, allegedly by opposing political camps.

Your relative silence in your later years baffled many. Still, it can be honestly said that you were a trailblazer and one of a kind. To the very end, you were a simple man. So, you wanted your last rites with a minimum of fuss. You can rest in peace now, Victor, your ‘foolish dream’ has come true!

Yours truly,

Punchi Putha

PS: For those in power, you must have been ‘Ivan the Terrible’. Yet, for a generation of journalists you were a person who made them have faith that the impossible was possible. Some though, feel you best fit the words of that famous song: “your candle burned out long before your legend ever did”!