Two Or Three Things I Know About My Country
Prof. Pradeep Jeganathan
We’ve never really had a father. We like to think we did, of course, be it D.S. Senanayake, S.W.R.D. Bandaranaike or S.J.V. Chelvanayagam. But they never had a vision for Lanka that made sense, in the end. Unlike a Mahathir, Nehru or a Mandela, their vision was partisan, and the results plain to see. Senanayake’s great contribution was to disenfranchise the up country Tamils, and ignore the vernacular language question. Bandaranaike and Chelvanayagam were his children, fighting for the house that he never finished building.
We’ve gone along since, fatherless children that we are. So many have been killed, and so many have killed. Maimed. Seen the essence of inhumanity, lived with it, so it has become ordinary. Many of us like to think Rajapakse is our father, since it is said he rescued us from all this, took us over the mountains to the valley of peace. Certainly, he’s proclaimed himself father and king, and his sons princes. And he’s had his moments.
But Rajapaksa fell short by a long way; one example is enough for me. Right at the edge of the water, in the northern most tip of our country lies a stone plaque. It was placed there well after May 2009, and marks the spot as Dambakola Patuna, the place where Ven. Sanghamitta landed with a sapling of the sacred Bo tree. And yet, this beautiful place is desecrated by a Rajapaksa plaque, which, here of all places, calls him “Tri-Sinhaladesvara.” Perhaps he never had it, perhaps he lost it on the way, but this is no way to mark our common patrimony.