Sanath
Jayasuriya...wielding the bat
The President was in a jolly mood last
week, congratulating cricket’s darlings. As photo ops go, it was a grand
picture. But, it’s official now . The President enjoys her game of cricket.
She has a high voltage smile for our cricketers, and to use that cliché
that captions writers adore, she “takes time off” to congratulate
our cricketing greats.
It means that in times of war, its official that cricket gets high national priority.
Now, if we delve into the antecedents of the government’s attitude to the war situation in the county, we would remember that the government deplored the general social attitudes that prevailed towards the conflict.
Trashing the previous government, the current leadership claimed that the country should be psychologically geared for the fight. Minister C.V. Gooneratne asked for a “war footing’’ (whatever that means), and a war footing he got.
Since then, the country has officially been on a war footing. One predicament that this put the hoi polloi into was determining what was “in’’ and what was “out’’ in the creation of a war psychosis. It appeared from general statements made by Cabinet members and other moral arbiters of the day, that behaviours such as
dancing were considered “insensitive’’ and morally repugnant . Any event at which the hoi polloi were having fun was considered totally repugnant, and essentially it was deemed that the nation should be joyless until we get this thing over with.
But, as time went on, it appeared that the war will not disappear in a jiffy, and the resolve began to give a little. A little clean fun was gradually allowed. Then came cricket. Our nation had found its calling.
This was certainly difficult for politicians to ignore. Next to worshipping the tooth relic, our people worshipped cricket, so what could be done about it other than join the bandwagon?
Therefore, it has now become official to exclude cricket from the war footing, even though disco dancing and fashion shows can still be included sporadically, depending on who is looking at the situation and from what mood.
Now, I’m not trying to play grinch and take away anything from the cricket cavalcade. Yet, what cricket has brought into sharp focus is the schizophrenia in this country in our attitudes towards the war. A war that is taking place a considerable physical distance away from the theatre in which the city gets its jollies.
It’s difficult, after all, for a city to get involved in a war in which it is not involved. It will be argued that all of us are involved in this war because it fights for a piece of the nation. Yet it is difficult to see how people can get emotionally involved in a war that is being fought by what is virtually a different species.
If Sanath Jayasuriya was not a very good cricketer, he would probably have been toting a gun in the front, and if he perished there, probably there would not have been a soul in these parts who would have known.
The point is that the social divide has become amorphous and blurred in the case of cricket, but it is still very defined when it comes to serious matters such as war and politics.
When obeisance is paid to cricket to the scale in which it was done last week, it doesn’t stand to reason why dancing should be considered revolting or why the stray tamasha-goer should be ostracized.
In reality, it cannot be done. For some, the war psychosis is to donate some money or a few tattered clothes for the war effort so that they could clear their conscience. Once the conscience clearing is done with, morally, these mortals are free to forget that there is a gory fight. Others lighten their conscience by staging a drama or joining an NGO where they can join the never-ending prattle about negotiating with the enemy. (Sleeping with him is not considered chic.)
But, if we do a reality check, it appears that we cannot achieve the impossible. We cannot create an artificial awareness, an artificial empathy for a war that is taking place in a theatre that is physically cut away from our collective realities.
Each time we do this, we find ourselves going back to our old tested ways, because we are unable to ignore our cricketers when they climb stellar heights, and we are unable to psychologically empathize with a battle that is costing the lives of Sri Lankans on both sides.
In these circumstances, it is better that we don’t insult the warrior at the front by pretending that we fully empathize with his predicament. Either we forget the rat race, down our cellular telephones and pens, and take to arms, or we accept that we are only human and that we too need our recreation in the midst of our stressful lives.
Lets have a beer with a conscience. But save us that sermon, after which the sermonisers too retire to watch our modern day gladiators maul the Indians.
Go to Hulftsdorp Hill by Mudliyar
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