Text of my ‘When Worlds Collide’ column published in Ceylon Today Sunday broadsheet newspaper on 28 July 2013
“I’m everything you lost. You won’t forgive me.
My memory keeps getting in the way of your history.”
So wrote Agha Shahid Ali (1949 – 2001), Kashmiri-American poet, in a famous poem called “Farewell” where he grappled with memories and histories that were both intertwined and warring.
This has been a week of reminiscences, mostly unpleasant or outright horrific, relating to Sri Lanka’s worst communal riots of July 1983. People from across the ethnic spectrum have recalled, in public media, a range of emotions they experienced — from trauma and anguish to shame and helplessness. This mosaic of collective memories is part of the legacy of Black July.
Memories matter, at both private and public levels. But not everyone agrees on the cathartic value of memories. A few argue…
In my Ravaya column this week (in Sinhala), I look at the role of public intellectuals and artistes who supported Nelson Mandela in his anti-apartheid struggle as well as in forging the Rainbow Nation after majority rule started in 1994. In particular, I look at how the Nobel Laureates Nadine Gordimer and Desmond Tutu critically cheer-led Mandela and ANC.
Text of my ‘When Worlds Collide’ column published in Ceylon Today Sunday broadsheet newspaper on 21 July 2013
When launching the column 18 months ago, I chose this theme because I am fascinated by worlds colliding all around us, all the time. It happens in both physical and metaphorical realms, I said, some of it so subtle and gradual that we really have to pay attention to notice.
Inter-generational tensions are nothing new, but there is one collision of worlds in Lankan society that I have been watching with much interest.
As I noted in my first column: “We have finally seen the end of our war, but the deeper forces of history, geography and ideology are locked in numerous slowly unfolding confrontations. Some would like to take us to the feudal times of the past. Others want unbridled fast-tracking to an uncertain future. The Children of ’56 are…
In this week’s Ravaya column (in Sinhala), I pay tribute to Nelson Mandela whose 95th birthday was on 18 July 2013 — which was marked worldwide as Nelson Mandela Day.
See also my English essay published earlier this week:
In a wistful essay titled ‘Memories of War, Dreams of Peace, hurriedly put together in mid May 2009 as Sri Lanka’s long and brutal civil war ended, I wrote: “Our political leaders, in whom we entrust our collective destiny, now face a historic choice… African analogies can go only so far in Asia, but at this juncture, it is tempting to ask: would our leaders now choose the Mandela Road or the Mugabe Road for the journey ahead?”
Four years on, that now reads rather naïve. In hindsight, I should have known better — and not pinned any hopes on political leaders again.
I say “again” because, just once before in my life, I did so: In mid 1994, six months after Nelson Mandela became the first majority elected President of South Africa, we Lankans elected Chandrika Bandaranaike Kumaratunga as our own President, with the largest ever electoral mandate (62% of votes).
Like many others at the time, I expected Chandrika to usher in a more pluralistic, accountable and caring form of government. Little did we know that it would all be squandered after her first 1,000 days…
The essay draws on my own memorable experience of listening to Mandela speak at the UN Headquarters in New York, in October 1995, and my three brief visits to post-apartheid South Africa over the past dozen years.
Oh, President Chandrika also came to the UN in New York on that occasion, accompanied by her astute foreign minister, the late Lakshman Kadirgamar — who came closest to being Lanka’s moral and intellectual colossus of global stature.
My South African room mate in New York, Dante Mashile, and I lined up hours ahead of the event to get through the intense UN security. On that chilly and windswept October morning in uptown Manhattan, we were two bright-eyed, idealistic young men fired by the audacity of hope.
In the end, my own leader didn’t walk her talk. But Dante’s did. That made all the difference for our two nations…
The Rainbow Nation had a troubled birth, and nearly two decades on, it’s still a work in progress. There are huge imperfections, and the reality falls short of aspirations. But without Mandela’s statesmanship, things could have been far worse.
As I note in this new essay:
“I have finally realized the futility of waiting for my own Mandela. There won’t be one, and there’s no time to waste.
“We must carry the flame ourselves — even if it’s only a candle in the wind.”
Text of my ‘When Worlds Collide’ column published in Ceylon Today Sunday broadsheet newspaper on 14 July 2013
My column last week, about the various slow movements that counter our fast paced modern life, elicited several responses. Many agreed that it’s an ideal worth pursuing in our frenzied lives. A few considered it ‘a luxury best suited for pampered Europeans’.
Although the slow movement is a loose network of like-minded people with no corporate style organisational structure, Italy has long been its spiritual epicentre. This, apparently, prompted some readers to presume Italians are laid back lotus eaters.
Well, they are not. Having been visiting Italy at regular intervals for nearly 25 years, I can confirm that Italians are a very colourful and energetic people.
By coincidence, I was back in Rome this week, on a fleeting visit, and felt quite at home once again. It reaffirmed my cumulative impression…
In the early 1990s, I had the privilege of working with the late Anil Agarwal, the outstanding environmentalist and journalist. He founded the Centre for Science and Environment (CSE), which continues his mission of articulating science-based, southern perspectives in issues of sustainable development and social justice.
In this week’s Ravaya column (in Sinhala), I invoke one of Anil’s favourite quotes, about books being akin to time bombs — which he attributed to the Swedish economist and Nobel laureate Gunnar Myrdal. I extend the metaphor to media products — in print, audio and video — and ask: what can we do to shorten their fuse?
This is also a commentary on the lack of adequate public discussion and debate on matters of public interest in Sri Lanka, and what we can learn from the more argumentative Indians.
Colombo General Cemetery: No discussion or debate…
ශ්රී ලංකාවේ මීට ඉහත පරම්පරාවක ප්රතිපත්තිගරුක වාමාංශික නායකයකු වූ බර්නාඞ් සොයිසා වරක් කොළඹ කනත්ත සුසාන භූමිය හඳුන්වා දුන්නේ ‘වාද විවාද – තර්ක විතර්ක කිසිවක් නොමැති වූ කොළඹ එක ම ස්ථානය’ හැටියටයි (“The only place in Colombo where there is no discussion or debate”).
“Books are like time bombs. If they contain ideas that are correct, then one day they will explode. And if they don’t, they will be consigned to the dustbin of history.”
Text of my ‘When Worlds Collide’ column published in Ceylon Today Sunday broadsheet newspaper on 7 July 2013
I’m a slow reader of books. I do it deliberately hemin-hemin.
Oh, I can read fast when I really have to — and do so with newspapers, magazines and websites. It’s an essential survival skill in today’s information society.
But when reading books, I take my own cool time. Books are not to be rushed through; they are to be absorbed slowly, one chapter or one idea at a time. And I’m not (yet) a fan of e-books and haven’t got any e-book reader or tablet.
Those around me are amused and puzzled by this slow reading. They know my capacity to marshal new information and ideas, so they wonder why I sometimes spend weeks reading one book.
I’m not alone. There are others who cherish slow and reflective reading. There…
Open Minds! (formerly: Moving Images blog) 