நித்திரையா தமிழா நீ நிமிர்ந்து nithiraiyaa thamilaa

ஈழம் eelamsong

A 1983 horror story-
As a young man in my early 20s, I sometimes travelled to Colombo with my grandma's neighbour.
Myself, my aunt, his 2 kids (1 schooling, 1 employed) and him, driving.
He talked a lot and no one seemed interested in what he had to say except me.
One day his school kid was sick and stayed at home. So it was 2 young men and 2 adults in the car. Uncle was listening to the radio as usual (Gold FM) news comes on and something about the LTTE 2002 ceasefire. He mentions how happy he'd be if the madness ended...
...he tells us how as a young junior manager at Ceylon Cold Stores in 1983, he had a small team of dedicated young men, fresh out of school working for him. There was a new comer, only 6 months on the job as a clerk but a "pukka bugger" (😬).
A Tamil lad (refer to as Yogi)- bright, resourceful, hard working. He stated that if the boy wanted to, he could have climbed the ladder of success quickly.
One Monday in July, uncle has to head into work but the rumour mill is working overtime. His parents ask him not to go...
...but of course he does, he must know what's going on. So he gets on his bike and makes his way to Colombo.
"It was like something out of a movie."
There were familiar shops burning, flaming tyres on the road, blackened things that vaguely look human, smoke everywhere...
...he tells me he'll never forget the smell. That smell put him off pork forever.
He gets to office and not everyone is there. Some of the women are crying. Rumours are circulating of staff who have been killed.
Management hold an emergency meeting.
Within hours they have a full list of all the Tamil staff working and each department head was to allocate a Sinhalese team of 2, to go to the home addresses and verify the safety of the Tamil staff.
As everyone is stretched thin, Uncle volunteers to go see a few and Yogi.
Uncle gets to Yogi in the afternoon. The lane he lives down is wrecked. Glass, broken furniture, over turned bikes, books, toys, clothes all on the road.
He sees Yogi, squatting outside his house, on the road, wailing. There is a body not to far from him, covered in white cloth.
Uncle finally consoles Yogi long enough to find out what happened.
Men had blocked both ends of the lane. One end stood their ground, created a blockade. The other, went house to house, causing havoc.
They finally get to Yogi's (close to the end of the lane).
Several men, break down the gate, break the door, drag his mother out to the road and proceed to gang rape her. They drag Yogi out, push him to his knees and force him to watch. When he closes his eyes, they hit him and hurt his mother, forcing him to open his eyes.
It goes on for hours.
When day breaks, the men leave. They're laughing, patting each other on the backs and tell Yogi- "this is what Tamil whores deserve".
The boy checks on his mother, she's dead.
He goes into the house, brings out a bedsheet to cover her and then cries.
Uncle takes Yogi to the hospital, leaves him there, says he'll be back the next day.
Alas, the next day, boy has checked himself out. Uncle goes to his house, it is empty, still a wreck.
That was the last time he ever saw Yogi...
During the 2002 ceasefire, on TV, he spots a familiar face. It's Yogi, he's an aide to Anton Balasingham.
It's quiet in the car, we're almost at our stop. Uncle says, "I don't blame the boy, something like that happens to me, I would do the same".
Whatever we put out into the world, we will receive back tenfold, so be careful what you put out into the world.
Do not be quick to hate, find productive ways to wrestle with your inner demons and stay strong.
In these dark times, we only really have each other.
Peace 🙏🏽