Typically
on a parent’s birth or death anniversary family members make a trip to the
graveyard, place flowers, say a silent prayer or shed a tear. April 12, 2013
marks the 81st birth anniversary of my father
Lakshman
Kadirgamar, and for the first time since his assassination eight
years ago I am here for his birth anniversary, on Sri Lankan soil where the
dastardly deed took place.
However
I have nowhere to go to remember him, pay respects or even reminisce. My
father’s parents, four brothers and sister, all long departed, never received
the remains of their beloved youngest son and sibling into the family grave. My
father has no symbolic earth-bound resting place, no urn containing ashes, no
headstone, nowhere to lay flowers. Upon his death eight years ago, his ashes
were unceremoniously stolen from us, his children and rightful family, despite
pleas for at least a fair share. Knowing my father as we his family did, he
would have wanted at least some part of his remains to be returned to their
rightful place within the family plot, for he was fiercely proud of his ancestry
and of the family name.
For
me the past ten years living in the US, during which time he was assassinated,
meant there were no daily reminders of my father’s greatness or his standing in
Sri Lankan society. But now that I am back in the motherland there is no escape.
His name comes up in every socio-political conversation whether public or
private, his statue stands tall in the heart of the city, total strangers from
all walks of life, upon learning of my connection to him, praise his life and
mourn his premature loss. His memory will live on no doubt as a great son of Sri
Lanka, forever etched in history.
What
do I remember of my father? I called him dada and he called me ‘sweetheart’ or
Ajj all his life. Growing up, on the very, very rare instances he admonished
me, he would call me by my full name. And then I knew it was serious
business.
He
traveled extensively his whole life. When I was a young girl he would bring me
Barbie dolls, lacy stockings and socks, baked beans, chocolate, pencils, erasers
and other luxuries that were not available in Sri Lanka in the austere 60′s and
70’s of my youth. I was the envy of all my classmates when I brought my
stationery treasures to school or wore my stockings and socks to birthday
parties.
I
do remember when I was very young, sometimes on a Sunday morning as he lazed in
bed with the newspapers, I would breeze in, jump on the bed and coerce him to
lie flat on his stomach so that I could walk up and down on his spine like a
tightrope walker or pretend I was a cowgirl riding a horse. Ever patient, he
would humour me.
My
father was of course the consummate lawyer, always holed up in his chambers
located at the front of the house, or appearing in various courts around the
country, or travelling around the world. So we did not see much of him. But I
would frequently skip in and out of his chambers, past the clerk, other lawyers
and clients. He would always acknowledge my presence even if he was in the midst
of something important. I was a familiar sight to all of the client and lawyer
colleague ‘uncles’ too, usually riding my bike up and down the driveway or the
lane, sitting in a tree or on a wall or engaged in some other tomboyish
activity.
For
the first decade of my life, he had to be summoned, even coerced from his law
chambers to pose with my brother and I for annual birthday photos during our
parties. This was something he hated apparently, since he can be seen frowning
in most photos, his mind no doubt on the case he was analysing or the notes he
was taking at the time. When he was not dictating letters, he always wrote his
copious notes by hand. In fact I don’t recall him ever using a typewriter and
certainly not a computer. I doubt that even in the last years of his life he
ever transitioned to computer and cell phone technology. Yes, he was old school
in many ways.
He
is of course best remembered for his fine speeches, some prepared, some off the
cuff, for he was a master of the English language. When I was in my teens and in
the throes of writing essays and sitting exams, he presented me with his Oxford
English Dictionary which he had used at Law College and at Balliol College.
Dedicating it to me he wrote, “When in doubt, look it up”. I too inherited his
love, respect and awe of the written word and even though I am more likely to
look up a dictionary or Thesaurus online these days, his dictionary will be
passed on to my son who also demonstrates remarkable writing skills.
Kadirgamar
with grandson Keira
Growing
up in Ceylon, I was always aware of how sociable and well loved my father was.
He had a grand assortment of very close and dear friends. They were Hindu,
Buddhist, Muslim, Burgher – such an eclectic mix, such wonderful personalities
with names like Ananda, Sandy, Vichu, Fritz, Gordon, Ralph, Singha, Terry,
Malli, Douglas. He loved their company, and craved stimulating conversation. He
relished spending one-on-one time with them on the verandah or in the garden at
Anderson Road and later at Thunmulla Junction, talking about the law, politics,
world affairs, and the good old days, all the time sipping their drinks and
smoking their cigarettes. During the many years he spent in Switzerland at the
UN, I think he felt socially isolated and he missed the camaraderie and old
boy’s network that makes Sri Lanka so special. On his trips to Colombo
therefore, he would meet up with as many friends and colleagues as possible,
getting his full dose of social life and intellectual revitalisation before
returning to the routine and mundane lifestyle of the western world.
He
did love the water. Childhood family holidays in Trinco, Passekudah, Kalkudah
and Bentota would find him leisurely swimming laps in the hotel swimming pool or
bobbing around carefree in the ocean even after the sun had set. How ruthless
that he was killed as he stepped out of his own private swimming pool, after
doing what he loved, the only activity that allowed him a modicum of freedom and
relaxation.
As
a lifelong sports enthusiast and prize winning Trinity College and Colombo
University athlete (cricket, rugby, athletics) I know it pained him not to be
able to go and watch the various matches and tournaments like a common citizen.
He sacrificed every personal and social activity that we all take for granted to
live as a virtual prisoner, whisked in and out of cars and buildings, surrounded
by security at all times. In the early days of his political career and when the
security risks were at their height, he apologised for not being able to go
shopping personally to buy birthday or Christmas gifts for me or my son. I still
have a hand written note he wrote with an apology and a cash check attached
instead.
When
packing to return to Sri Lanka at the beginning of this year I was faced with
the mammoth task of sorting through all my belongings which have traveled around
the world with me over the past 40 years. There were birthday cards, letters,
telegrams and postcards he sent me during his travels in the 60′s and 70′s to
England, Vietnam, India, Switzerland, France and other places. I could not bring
myself to burn or shred them like I did a lot of other less sentimental
material. And so these yellowing, fading mementos, in the absence of any of his
other personal possessions which should rightfully have come to us his children,
have once again traveled across the ocean and lie packed in a box, to be stored
away for posterity.
My
memories of him during our years in Oxford in the early 70’s seem to revolve
around him smoking his pipe or cigar, both of which I hated for their pungent
odor. I would scold him and tell him to stop the ‘disgusting habit’, which was
for him a well deserved respite from the stresses of his life, and he would just
keep puffing away, much to my annoyance. I will always remember him in his study
– every house we ever lived in had to have a study – hundreds of law volumes
stacked ceiling high, wearing his brown corduroy jacket, seated behind his desk
with a cigar or pipe in hand, the desk lamp casting a halo of smoky light around
him. This was the man in his element, the brilliant mind at work.
I
used to love his white barrister’s wig and black robe which he had to wear when
appearing at the Bar in London. Once, for a school play at Wychwood School in
Oxford, I acted the part of a lawyer and he allowed me to borrow the wig and
robe as my costume. I looked very dignified and authentic in my role and the
other English girls were quite in awe of me.
Dada
enjoyed gardening for a brief time while living in rural France. He planted some
trees in the large, rather bare garden and enjoyed pruning and caring for the
roses in summer. He also loved wine and he and my mother would go on wine buying
excursions around France. How he would have loved one day to own a house with a
proper wine cellar where he could store his treasures.
During
my teenage years in Switzerland, one of the things we often did together was
drive into Geneva from the suburbs where we lived to buy the Sunday English
newspapers for him and my favourite chocolate for me. Sometimes I hitched a one
way ride with him to meet up with friends in the city. When we lived in a small
village in France he and my mother would take turns to drive to the Swiss/French
border to pick me up around midnight when I took the last bus home from the city
on weekend nights. Once I turned eighteen and got my driver’s license he was
very generous about lending me his old beat up car in the evenings and on
weekends, for we lived out of the city and my social life was restricted by the
train schedule.
In
1982 with just one suitcase in hand I came to Colombo on summer vacation from
Switzerland where I was studying languages at the University of Geneva. That
summer vacation turned into a 20 year stay due to a timely meeting my father
arranged for me with the then Chairman of the Sri Lanka Rupavahini Corporation,
M.J. Perera. SLRC had just launched and was looking for people with any kind of
background in TV. I had coincidentally just completed a brief apprenticeship at
TV Suisse Romande and when M. J. Perera heard this he readily offered me a job.
We all agreed that the newly created Western Music section would be the best fit
for me. So even a little experience was better than none at all and I became one
of the pioneer producer/directors at the station. I soon got my first break as
an interviewer, transferred to the Newsroom, and went on to enjoy a career that
spanned 20 years in the public eye.
Thus
my father was instrumental in the launch of my TV career. Once I had become a
familiar face and name, whenever my father came to Colombo on UN business, the
immigration and customs officers at the airport would ask if he was related to
me, the Kadirgamar on TV. I think he got quite a kick out saying I was his
daughter and of course he was proud of my achievements. The tables turned
naturally once he entered politics and then everyone would ask me if I was
related to him! I would say yes, that’s my father, and jokingly add “but I was
famous long before he was!”
Much
has been written about Lakshman Kadirgamar the lawyer, the intellectual, the
statesman and the orator and though his whole life may have been a rehearsal for
the leading role he was to play on the Sri Lankan political stage, I believe he
remained a simple man at heart, with few needs but many dreams and plans for
this island of ours.
Sadly,
he never got to totally fulfill his role as a grandfather to my son, a role I
believe he would have excelled at. His parting gift to his only grandchild,
during a rare high-security orchestrated visit just before we left Sri Lanka for
the US was a tie pin, something the child, now turned adult, cherishes.
We
were never to see him alive again. The final time my brother, son and I saw him
he was lying in a coffin, wearing his Trinity tie and tie pin, two items I
suspect he may have wanted his son or grandson to have.
UNP MPs Jayalath Jayawardena and Ravi Karunanayake made a complain to the Human Rights Commission today urging the authorities to reveal details of the tests carried out on renal disease in the North-Central Province.Nisal Baduge 
Sri Lankan Forest Department, in recent weeks, has brought in a number of wild elephants from Sinhala areas into the jungles adjacent to Koa'ra'laip-pattu South Division of the Batticaloa district, where uprooted Tamil people have resettled after the end of war. The Divisional Secretary of Koa'ra'laippattu South, Mr Thanabalasundaram, when contacted by reporters in Batticaloa, admitted that two Tamil civilians have been killed within the last 30 days by the wild elephants that have gone amok on the villagers and their properties. The lives and the livelihood of 3,000 Tamil villagers are threatened by the presence of more than 50 wild elephants of the Sinhala forest department. 
''The Government of Sri Lanka is willing to conduct inquiries into any allegations, if duly presented to authorities in Sri Lanka, through the judiciary and military tribunals, in line with practice followed by all other democratic nations.'' 
The monks of the Bodu Bala Sena have inadvertently done Sri Lanka a favour. Their speeches are so crass and their actions so crude that they have provoked a backlash – the media is full of criticism of their anti-Muslim campaign, much of it coming from Sinhala Buddhists themselves..jpg)
08 April 2013
Monday, 08 April 2013 
There are doubts of a conspiracy to frame Major General Kamal Gunaratne, who commanded the 53rd Brigade and the 8th Task Force during the Wanni operation, for the release of some pictures that could be used to prove allegations of war crimes committed during the final stages of the war, sources from the Army said. Most of the pictures that have reached the international media are reportedly of killings carried out by the units commanded by Major General Gunaratne and according to army sources the latest conspiracy could be aimed at preventing him from becoming the Army Commander in future.
Based upon past statements, Sri Lanka's President outlined why a war on Tamils was a bad idea.
TUESDAY, 09 APRIL 2013 