The Ashes Of My Father: The Voice Of The Son Of A Freedom Fighter

By Thamil Venthan Ananthavinayagan –November 9, 2015

Thamil Venthan Ananthavinayagan

My name is Thamil Venthan Ananthavinayagan. I was born in the midst ofthe Black July, the ignis fatalis for the civil war starting in 1983. My father, named by his comrades by his nom de guerre Vannai Ananthan, was one of the most prolific and charismatic speakers of the Tamil Youth movement.

The post-colonial history, the ethnic conflict, decades of hate and ignorance, shortly: the tragedy of this country -despite its beauty- became my invincible sibling. However, I would not say that the tragedy of Sri Lanka overshadowed my childhood and youth. It became a constant reminder for hope.

Imprisonment

The imprisonment of my father, ‘appa’, for seven years in Welikade did not leave him without scars – visible and more worryingly, invisible scars. He was beaten up, tortured, spit at, cigarettes of prison guards were stubbed out on the skin of appa. And what was more distressful: he was denied the right to conduct the funeral of his mother, my grandmother, according to the Hindu rites, being the oldest son in a Hindu family. My grandmother died during his imprisonment. A woman that loved him so much; he was the first male child after three girls, my aunts. She and my grandfather had fasted and prayed to God that they will be given a son- given the unfortunate patriarchal perception. As he went to prison, my grandmother’s life came to an end, she was a walking dead. All she wanted was to see him once again before she died. But both, neither my appa nor my grandmother, were able to see each other ever again.
And yet, my appa never taught me to hate the Sinhala people. He taught me love those who humiliated him. He said: “Only because of one or two persons who carried so much hate in their hearts, I shall not hate the Sinhala people and scapegoat them. They have not done anything wrong. Neither should you. Forgive those who have acted wrongly towards you.”

A project in Maskelya

Appa was a civil engineer – his actual profession. He was dispatched to Maskeliya, back then a jungle in Sri Lanka. I am not sure if things have changed. He was assigned to construct bridges and pathways.

Appa was a heavy chain smoker and for that reason he went outside his provisional office to have a cigarette. He saw an older Sinhala lady with -presumably- her grandchild. She sat by the river and washed that child that was very loud and crying. She hit that child and said in Sinhala: “Demala aya vage, mata karadara karanna epa” – which is translated as: “Do not trouble me like the Tamils do!”

My appa told me this story. But not for the reason to hate the Sinhala. But to depict what we are teaching the next, growing generation, the future leaders of our country: hate and ignorance. This happens in Tamil as well as Sinhala communities, in Sri Lanka and abroad. Hate and ignorance were the key ingredients that deepened the division.                                             Read More