Wednesday, October 28, 2009
பழைய பேப்பரை விற்று 6 வயது சிறுமிக்கு உயிர் கொடுத்த மாணவர்கள்
மதுரை : மதுரை வடமலையான் மருத்துவமனையின் "ஊர் கூடி உதவுவோம்' என்ற திட்டத்தின்கீழ், பழைய பேப்பரை சேகரித்து விற்று, அதில் கிடைத்த தொகையை 6 வயது சிறுமியின் ஆப்பரேஷனுக்கு கொடுத்து உயிரை காப்பாற்றினர் பள்ளி மாணவர்கள் மற்றும் பொதுமக்கள்.
பொதுமக்களிடம் பழைய நாளிதழ்களை நன்கொடையாக பெற்று, அதில் கிடைக்கும் பணத்தை ஏழை குழந்தைகளின் மருத்துவச் செலவுக்கு பயன்படுத்துவதே இத்திட்டத்தின் நோக்கம். இதுகுறித்து மாணவர்கள், பொதுமக்களிடம் விழிப்புணர்வு ஏற்படுத்தப்பட்டது. இதன் பயனாக, மதுரை டால்பின் மெட்ரிக். பள்ளி மாணவர்கள் 11 ஆயிரம் பழைய நாளிதழ்களை விற்று 47 ஆயிரம் ரூபாயும், பொதுமக்கள் 4,658 ரூபாயும் நன்கொடையாக அளித்தனர். இதைக் கொண்டு, பிறவியிலேயே இருதயத்தில் ஓட்டை இருந்த திண்டுக்கல் சிறுமி சித்ராவுக்கு அறுவை சிகிச்சையின்றி, கேத்லாப் முறை மூலம் இருதய ஓட்டை அடைக்கப்பட்டது. மொத்த செலவு 1.10 லட்சம் ரூபாயில், நன்கொடை போக, மீதமுள்ள தொகையை மருத்துவமனை நிர்வாகமே ஏற்றுக்கொண்டது.
ஆப்பரேஷன் செய்த டாக்டர் கண்ணனும் கட்டணம் பெறவில்லை. நிர்வாக இயக்குநர் டாக்டர் புகழகிரி கூறுகையில், ""ஒவ்வொரு துளி நீரும் சேர்ந்துதான் சமுத்திரத்தை உருவாக்குகிறது. அதுபோல் அனைவரும் இத்திட்டத்தில் பங்கேற்று இதனை வெற்றி பெற செய்ய வேண்டும்'' என்றார்.திட்டமேலாளர் ஹேமலட்சுமி, ரேடியோ மிர்ச்சி நிலைய இயக்குனர் தினேஷ், நிகழ்ச்சி இயக்குனர் ராதா உடனிருந்தனர்.
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Do not turn your back on the needy
One stormy night many years ago, an elderly man and his wife entered the lobby of a small hotel in Philadelphia. Trying to get out of the rain, the couple approached the front desk hoping to get some shelter for the night.
“Could you possibly give us a room here?” the husband asked. The clerk, a friendly man with a winning smile, looked at the couple and explained that there were three conventions in town.
“All of our rooms are taken,” the clerk said. “But I can’t send a nice couple like you out into the rain at one o’clock in the morning. Would you perhaps be willing to sleep in my room? It’s not exactly a suite, but it will be good enough to make you folks comfortable for the night.”
When the couple declined, the young man pressed on. “Don’t worry about me; I’ll make out just fine,” the clerk told them. So the couple agreed.
As he paid his bill the next morning, the elderly man said to the clerk, “You are the kind of manager who should be the boss of the best hotel in the United States. Maybe someday I’ll build one for you.”
The clerk looked at them and smiled. The three of them had a good laugh.
As they drove away, the elderly couple agreed that the helpful clerk was indeed exceptional, as finding people who are both friendly and helpful isn’t easy.
Two years passed. The clerk had almost forgotten the incident when he received a letter from the old man. It recalled that stormy night and enclosed a round-trip ticket to New York, asking the young man to pay them a visit.
The old man met him in New York, and led him to the corner of Fifth Avenue and 34th Street. He then pointed to a great new building there, a palace of reddish stone, with turrets and watchtowers thrusting up to the sky.
“That,” said the older man, “is the hotel I have just built for you to manage.”
“You must be joking,” the young man said.
“I can assure you I am not,” said the older man, a sly smile playing around his mouth.
The older man’s name was William Waldorf Astor, and the magnificent structure was the original Waldorf-Astoria Hotel.
The young clerk who became its first manager was George C. Bold. This young clerk never foresaw the turn of events that would lead him to become the manager of one of the world’s most glamorous hotels.
The Bible says that we are not to turn our backs on those who are in need, for we might be entertaining angels. Life is more accurately measured by the lives you touch than the things you acquire…
“Could you possibly give us a room here?” the husband asked. The clerk, a friendly man with a winning smile, looked at the couple and explained that there were three conventions in town.
“All of our rooms are taken,” the clerk said. “But I can’t send a nice couple like you out into the rain at one o’clock in the morning. Would you perhaps be willing to sleep in my room? It’s not exactly a suite, but it will be good enough to make you folks comfortable for the night.”
When the couple declined, the young man pressed on. “Don’t worry about me; I’ll make out just fine,” the clerk told them. So the couple agreed.
As he paid his bill the next morning, the elderly man said to the clerk, “You are the kind of manager who should be the boss of the best hotel in the United States. Maybe someday I’ll build one for you.”
The clerk looked at them and smiled. The three of them had a good laugh.
As they drove away, the elderly couple agreed that the helpful clerk was indeed exceptional, as finding people who are both friendly and helpful isn’t easy.
Two years passed. The clerk had almost forgotten the incident when he received a letter from the old man. It recalled that stormy night and enclosed a round-trip ticket to New York, asking the young man to pay them a visit.
The old man met him in New York, and led him to the corner of Fifth Avenue and 34th Street. He then pointed to a great new building there, a palace of reddish stone, with turrets and watchtowers thrusting up to the sky.
“That,” said the older man, “is the hotel I have just built for you to manage.”
“You must be joking,” the young man said.
“I can assure you I am not,” said the older man, a sly smile playing around his mouth.
The older man’s name was William Waldorf Astor, and the magnificent structure was the original Waldorf-Astoria Hotel.
The young clerk who became its first manager was George C. Bold. This young clerk never foresaw the turn of events that would lead him to become the manager of one of the world’s most glamorous hotels.
The Bible says that we are not to turn our backs on those who are in need, for we might be entertaining angels. Life is more accurately measured by the lives you touch than the things you acquire…
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Knowing Mumbai's new top cop better
Knowing Mumbai's new top cop better
Shyamal Majumdar in New Delhi
If you haven't met Dhanushyakodi Sivanandan, you could ask for a CD of Ram Gopal Varma's [Images] film -- Company -- and watch Mohanlal. Mumbai's [Images] new police commissioner was the inspiration behind the Malayalam superstar's role of a top cop in the film.
The character in the film called Srinivasan speaks Hindi with a heavy South Indian accent, looks like a professor and uses his iron fist with good effect to deal with the Mumbai underworld. The reel and the real lives couldn't have been more similar.
The Tamil Nadu-born Sivanandan taught economics for three years and shot to fame -- almost literally -- during his momentous tenure as head of the Mumbai Crime Branch during the late nineties. During his two-year stint as joint commissioner (crime), over 250 members of the Dawood Ibrahim [Images] and Chhota Rajan gangs were shot dead in police encounters.
Old-timers also recall how, as the police commissioner of Thane, Sivanandan set up a special squad of 40 commandos who were always ready on their motorbikes with machine guns. It was this ability to deal with the underworld with an iron hand that saw this 1976-batch IPS officer get the job, the principal mandate of which is to protect Mumbai from terrorists.
It wasn't the Mumbai mafia alone that Sivanandan fought successfully. He battled the Maoists as well when he was posted in Nagpur and headed anti-Naxalite operations. He was also part of the team that probed the 1993 serial blasts in the city and exposed the Mumbai link with the Kandahar plane hijack episode by arresting a terrorist who had close links with the hijackers.
But the image of an encounter specialist alone wouldn't have been enough to make Sivanandan the boss of what is one of the important police forces in the country. Sivanandan has also cultivated, rather carefully, his image of an HR manager par excellence. Sample this: He is known to hold daily meetings (called Darbars) with his men just to understand their problems and take corrective action. So when he saw one of his constables at Thane having lunch sitting on the office floor, he made sure that a cafeteria with basic amenities was in place.
Sivanandan has attributed this concern for his people to his middle-class background and to the hardship he himself had to go through after his father died when he was just 15.
Training is something Sivanandan is passionate about and he often dons the hat of a teacher in these sessions. The training (he set up the first fully air-conditioned police training centre in the state) ranges from combat-preparedness to self-development in softer skills. The basic idea is to keep pace with time. So when police constable Sunil More was arrested on rape charges, Sivanandan started gender-bias training courses.
However, it has certainly not been roses all the way. Sivanandan has had his share of setbacks as well. For example, it was under him that the crime branch made the sensational arrest of Sessions Court Judge J W Singh under the dreaded Maharashtra Control of Organised Crime Act ( MCOCA). The judge was later acquitted by the court.
He also hogged the limelight when he arrested diamond merchant and film financier Bharat Shah for his alleged links with the underworld, but the courts acquitted Shah. In 2001, he had to face censure from the state government after a mob killed a rapist in Nagpur. Then, as the police commissioner in Thane, he faced the ire of the Muslim community when the police fired at a mob in Bhiwandi, killing two people.
Despite all this, his well-wishers say, Sivanandan should have got the job long ago. He was ignored twice earlier, but the third time proved to be lucky for Mumbai's 34th police commissioner.
Shyamal Majumdar in New Delhi
If you haven't met Dhanushyakodi Sivanandan, you could ask for a CD of Ram Gopal Varma's [Images] film -- Company -- and watch Mohanlal. Mumbai's [Images] new police commissioner was the inspiration behind the Malayalam superstar's role of a top cop in the film.
The character in the film called Srinivasan speaks Hindi with a heavy South Indian accent, looks like a professor and uses his iron fist with good effect to deal with the Mumbai underworld. The reel and the real lives couldn't have been more similar.
The Tamil Nadu-born Sivanandan taught economics for three years and shot to fame -- almost literally -- during his momentous tenure as head of the Mumbai Crime Branch during the late nineties. During his two-year stint as joint commissioner (crime), over 250 members of the Dawood Ibrahim [Images] and Chhota Rajan gangs were shot dead in police encounters.
Old-timers also recall how, as the police commissioner of Thane, Sivanandan set up a special squad of 40 commandos who were always ready on their motorbikes with machine guns. It was this ability to deal with the underworld with an iron hand that saw this 1976-batch IPS officer get the job, the principal mandate of which is to protect Mumbai from terrorists.
It wasn't the Mumbai mafia alone that Sivanandan fought successfully. He battled the Maoists as well when he was posted in Nagpur and headed anti-Naxalite operations. He was also part of the team that probed the 1993 serial blasts in the city and exposed the Mumbai link with the Kandahar plane hijack episode by arresting a terrorist who had close links with the hijackers.
But the image of an encounter specialist alone wouldn't have been enough to make Sivanandan the boss of what is one of the important police forces in the country. Sivanandan has also cultivated, rather carefully, his image of an HR manager par excellence. Sample this: He is known to hold daily meetings (called Darbars) with his men just to understand their problems and take corrective action. So when he saw one of his constables at Thane having lunch sitting on the office floor, he made sure that a cafeteria with basic amenities was in place.
Sivanandan has attributed this concern for his people to his middle-class background and to the hardship he himself had to go through after his father died when he was just 15.
Training is something Sivanandan is passionate about and he often dons the hat of a teacher in these sessions. The training (he set up the first fully air-conditioned police training centre in the state) ranges from combat-preparedness to self-development in softer skills. The basic idea is to keep pace with time. So when police constable Sunil More was arrested on rape charges, Sivanandan started gender-bias training courses.
However, it has certainly not been roses all the way. Sivanandan has had his share of setbacks as well. For example, it was under him that the crime branch made the sensational arrest of Sessions Court Judge J W Singh under the dreaded Maharashtra Control of Organised Crime Act ( MCOCA). The judge was later acquitted by the court.
He also hogged the limelight when he arrested diamond merchant and film financier Bharat Shah for his alleged links with the underworld, but the courts acquitted Shah. In 2001, he had to face censure from the state government after a mob killed a rapist in Nagpur. Then, as the police commissioner in Thane, he faced the ire of the Muslim community when the police fired at a mob in Bhiwandi, killing two people.
Despite all this, his well-wishers say, Sivanandan should have got the job long ago. He was ignored twice earlier, but the third time proved to be lucky for Mumbai's 34th police commissioner.
Friday, May 29, 2009
Prabhakaran: Powerful symbol of Tamil armed struggle
May 29th, 2009
by D.B.S. Jeyaraj
The evolution and growth of the armed struggle for the goal of Tamil Eelam saw many Tamil militant groups emerge across the politico-military horizon. There was a time when nearly 34 outfits-big and small-existed.
Among all these, the single organization that kept the Tamil armed struggle alive was none other than the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE) led by its charismatic leader Thiruvengadam Velupillai Prabhakaran.
From its de-jure birth on May 5th 1976 to its de-facto death on May 18th the LTTE under Prabhakaran fought on relentlessly towards its avowed objective of a separate Tamil state until the very last.
During the emergency period of 1975-77 , Indira Gandhi the Prime Minister of India was praised to the skies by sycophantic partymen. The Congress president of the time DK Baruah publicly proclaimed “Indira is India, India is Indira”.
Likewise the same could be said of Prabhakaran and the LTTE too. “The LTTE is /was Prabhakaran, Prabhakaran is/was LTTE”. The LTTE leader in a way personified the Liberation tigers. In the process he became a powerful, vibrant symbol of the Tamil armed struggle.
Family
Prabhakaran was born on November 26th 1954. He was the youngest in a family of four children. There were two boys and two girls. One of his sisters is in Canada. The other two siblings are in Denmark. His parents who lived in the northern mainland, Wanni, are now displaced and in Vavuniya. They are under protective custody.
His father is Veerasamy Thiruvengadam Velupillai. Prabhakaran’s mother’s name is Paarvathipillai. Her maiden name was also Velupillai. She suffered a stroke recently resulting in an arm and hand being paralysed.
Prabhakaran’s family hailed from the coastal town of Valvettithurai referred to generally as VVT. His father joined the Government clerical service and eventually became a district lands officer. I think he retired from Govt service when the late Gamini Dissanayake was Lands minister.
Prabhakaran’s family was of respected lineage in VVT. They were known as belonging to the “Thirumeni kudumbam” or Thirumeni family. Prabhakaran’s ancestors constructed the famous Sivan temple of VVT. His father should have been the chief trustee but declined to be so as he was in govt service.
The LTTE leader’s father was a duty conscientious mild-mannered gentleman well respected and well-liked. People of VVT used to say that even the grass wouldn’t get crushed when Mr. Velupillai treads on it. Later many comparisons were made about father and younger son. In fact the father disapproved of the son’s path and was not on speaking terms with Prabhakaran for years and years.
Karikalan
The name Prabhakaran denotes the Sun or Sooriyan. Later his acolytes began calling him “Sooriyathevan” or “Sun God”. Being the youngest in the family he was called “Thambi” or younger brother. This pet name continued to be in vogue when he entered militant ranks as he was then perhaps the youngest of all.
Prabhakaran also adopted various names like Mani, Manivannan, Maniam and Karikaalan. It was the latter nom de guerre that he used mostly during the early days. Karikaalan refers to Thirumaavalavan of the Chola dynasty that flew the “Vengai” or Cheeta flag.
Colleagues of an earlier vintage referred to him as “maniyathhar”. Contemporaries continued calling him “thamby”. In later years young tigers used to call him “Annai” or elder brother. After a while it became “Thalaiver” or leader. Formally it was “Thesiya thalaiver” or “national leader”. Colloquially he would be called “perisu” or the big one.
Prabhakaran studied at different schools in Jaffna, Vavuniya and Batticaloa because his father was constantly transferred. The schools he studied for many years were Government College (Now Mahajana) B’caloa and Chidampara College, VVT. He was not a model student and did not even pass his GCE O’levels.
This does not mean that he was unintelligent or did not possess a thirst for knowledge. It was due to Prabhakaran being interested in other things rather than in formal education.
History
He had a photogenic memory and was an avid reader. He was particularly fond of reading history-about historical battles and historical figures.
Some of his famous historical figures were Napoleon and Alexander. The Indian freedom struggle fascinated him. He read the Tamil version of Mahatma Gandhi’s autobiography “Satya Sodhanai” in his early teens but was not enamoured of it greatly.
His ideal and idol was Netaji or Subash Chandra Bose. Netaji had ideological differences with the Mahatma about the mode of struggle for independence. At one stage he disapporoved of Gandhi’s “non-violence” and went on to form the Indian National Army (INA) to launch an armed struggle against the British.
Subsequently Chandra Bose joined forces with the Germans and Japanese to fight the British. He died in a mysterious aeroplane accident. Netaji’s famous pronouncement was “I shall fight for the freedom of my land until I shed my last drop of blood”. Prabhakaran subscribed to these sentiments whole-heartedly.
Apart from Netaji , Prabhakaran was also impressed by the Sikh freedom fighter Bhagat Singh who was sentenced to the gallows by the British rulers.Two freedom fighters from Tamil Nadu also made an impact on young Prabhakaran.
One was Vaanchinaatha Iyer who shot the Tirunelvely district collector Ashe dead at the Maniaachchi railway station. When chased by the Police Vaanchinaathan shot himself. The other was Thiruppoor Kumaran who withstood heavy beating by the Police but would not let go of the Bharatmatha flag. He was hailed as “Kodi Kaatha Kumaran” (Kumaran who saved the flag).
Hard as it may be for many to believe there was a quiet, spiritual aspect also to Prabhakaran. The “Ithihasam” (epic) Mahabharatham enthralled him. The characters he identified with were Bheema and Karna.
Prabhakaran also read the Tamil translations of Swami Vivekananda’s writings and speeches avidly. Another spiritual person he looked up to was Thirumuga Kirupananda Vaariyaar popularly called “vaariyaar”.
Gita
It is the Mahabharatha that relates the tale of Lord Krishna advising the wavering Arjuna on the battlefield “kurushetra”. The Pandavas and Gouravas (cousins) had assembled to do battle but Arjuna hesitates to fight against his kith and kin and lets slip his bow “Kaandeepam”.
Lord Krishna then tenders advice to him that each person is destined to fulfill his or her duty. It was the warrior’s duty to kill his adversary regardless of kinship. Killing the “body” of the enemy was part of heroic valour. The essence of Lord Krishna’s lecture is the “Bhagavat Gita”.
Maranathai Enni Kalangidum Vijaya-Seerkali Govindarajan-Tamil Song mp3]
Prabhakaran was greatly enamoured of principles enunciated in the Gita. In the Tamil film “Karnan” based on the Mahabharatha Lord Krishna is played by NT Rama Rao and Arjuna by Mutturaman. The Gita episode is picturised as a song Maranathai Enni Kalangidum Vijaya.” This was one of Prabhakaran’s favourite songs. It’s sung by Seerkali Govindarajan.
One person who opined that Prabhakaran had inculcated the philosophy of the Gita was former Indian High Commissioner to Sri Lanka Jyotindra Nath Dixit. This was during the time when LTTE was fighting the Indian Army. I could see that Dixit meant it as a “compliment” when he said this.
On an earlier occasion Dixit told me that of all the top Tamil militant leaders only Prabhakaran had “fire” in him. This was after Dixit met for the first time all leaders of the five big groups. Umamaheswaran-PLOTE, Sri Sabaratnam-TELO, Padmanabha-EPRLF, Balakumar-EROS and of course Prabhakaran-LTTE.
I also recall a conversation in early 1985 with former national security minister Lalith Athulathmudali. Long before the Indo-Lanka accord of 1987, Athulathmudali predicted that all the Tamil groups will give up the struggle and fall in line. But not Prabhakaran, said Lalith then. “He will never compromise and will die fighting to the last” he said. How True!
Reading
Prabhakaran was also fond of reading Tamil novels particularly those with a historical background. His favourite apparently was “Ponniyin Selvan” the magnum opus of “Kalki” (R. Krishnamoorthy). This is about Prince Arulmolivarman who evolved into the great Chola emperor Raja Raja Cholan.
He also liked the historical novels of Akhilan and Chandilyan.
[Venkayin Mainthan-by Akhilan-pic:Chandrachoodan Gopalakrishnan]
“Venkayin Mainthan” and “Kayal Vizhi” by Akhilan and “Yavana Raani”, “Kadal Puraa” and “Jalatheepam” by Chandilyan were his favourites by these two. When the LTTE bought its first maritime vessel it was named “Kadal Puraa” (sea dove) after Chandilyan’s novel.
Yet, the Tamil novel read again and again by Prabhakaran was “Kallukkul Eeram” (moisture in a stone) by RS Nallaperumaal. It is set against the backdrop of India’s freedom struggle against the British.
The chief protagonist Rangamani is one who does not believe in Gandhi’s “ahimsa” mode of struggle and espouses violence as the appropriate method to liberate India. No wonder then that Praba loved this novel. But there is a change of heart in the end but for the real life protagonist there was no moisture in the stone.
Prabhakaran was very much interested in contemporary affairs and international politics. A former comrade at arms of Prabhakaran, Thalayasingham Sivakumar alias Anton Master told me how the LTTE subscribed to “Time” and “Newsweek” those days. Praba would ask friends knowledgeable in English to translate and explain articles.
In later years when the LTTE developed into a full-fledged outfit, important articles from magazines and newspapers were translated into Tamil for Prabakharan’s consumption. Also many books on military affairs and warfare were translated into Tamil.
Puritan
As a schoolboy, Prabhakaran like most youngsters of his age was fond of cycling and playing volley ball and soccer. But he was no sportsman and preferred to read or watch action films.
He has been ridiculed often for telling an American journalist that he learnt his fighting techniques from Clint Eastwood movies. But what happened really was that the US scribe was questioning him whether he had been trained in Cuba. It was as a joke that Prabha responded citing Eastwood.
Another pursuit in boyhood was the targeting of squirrels, lizards. Chameleons and small birds with a catapult. As a kid Praba would prowl about areas of dense vegetation searching for his quarry.
His memory power was legendary. Prabhakaran would remember faces, names and the last time he had seen someone years ago. His eyes were always sharp and roving taking in the surrounding area and ever on the alert. His eyes were large and striking and was teased as “muliyan” (goggle-eye)
Prabhakaran was also a “puritan” in many ways. He neither drank nor smoked and even advocated sexual abstinence for all in the early days of the movement. Order and cleanliness was almost an obsession. He was a stickler for discipline.
Cook
He was always neatly dressed preferring “bush shirts” and short-sleeved shirts. The bush shirt was helpful as it covered hidden firearms. It is said that even during the early stages of militancy when there was an acute shortage of funds, Prabhakaran would wash and iron his few clothes regularly and always maintain a dapper appearance.
He was a good cook and also fond of good food. He relished Chinese cuisine. Prabhakaran was also fond of Pittu, coconut sambol and Fried shrimp. He also liked Iguana and tortoise flesh. He liked fruits and natural bee’s honey.
Usually LTTE cadres under punishment are assigned duties in the kitchen. Prabhakaran would encourage cadres to cook saying “only a good cook can be a good guerilla”.
He would often cook or help out in the kitchen when at home. A close relative who visited him once was flummoxed to see the feared guerilla leader busily scraping coconuts in the kitchen.
Prabhakaran’s attitude and political thinking was shaped by contemporary events and environment. The gruesome tales he heard as a four year old child about the 1958 anti-Tamil violence impacted greatly.
One day Prabhakaran’s home had a woman visitor whose legs were scarred by burns. Upon inquiring the little boy was told that the woman’s home had been set on fire by a “Sinhala” mob. She had escaped with burns.
Valvettithurai
Young Praba also heard the famous story of the Brahmin priest in Panadura being burnt to death in a bonfire and also about the infant thrown into a tar barrel. All these tales made an indelible impression.
Being a native of Valvettithurai was another factor in making a militant out of Prabhakaran. VVT had acquired a reputation for smuggling and had a sub-culture of its own. “Operation Monty” was launched by the armed forces in post-independence Sri Lanka to check and counter illicit immigration and smuggling.
This necessitated the setting up of security camps in VVT from the early fifties of the last century. There was much friction as a result of this hostile, “alien” presence.This in turn led to a confrontational mood prevailing between the people and armed forces long before the political crisis escalated in the seventies.
It was in this environment that Prabhakaran and a host of other VVT youth grew up. As Sathasivampillai Krishnakumar alias Kittu and Gopalswamy Mahendrarajah alias Mahathaya explained to me on different occasions, many youths of their generation grew up in VVT with anger and resentment towards the armed forces and by extension the government in Colombo held responsible.
Prabhakaran growing up in this atmosphere got politically motivated in the late sixties and early seventies of the previous century. This was when former Kayts MP. V. Navaratnam roke away from the Ilankai Thamil Arasu Katchi (ITAK) known as Federal Party (FP) in English.
Navaratnam
Navaratnam once described as the “golden brain” of the FP formed the “Thamilar Suyaatchi Kazhagham” or Tamil Self-Rule party in 1968. Navaratnam abandoned the federal demand as being too little and too late and instead opted for “suyaatchi” or “self-rule” a euphemism of sorts for a separate state.
There was a pedagogue named Venugopal master for whom Prabhakaran had great regard and respect. Venugopal master became an active supporter of Navaratnam. Several students including Prabhakaran became his followers and turned into ardent devotees of Tamil self-rule.
The Suyaatchi Kazhagham also started a newspaper “Viduthalai” (Liberation/Freedom). Navaratnam himself translated and serialized “Exodus” the famous novel written by Leon Uris. It was named “Namakkendroru Naadu” (A Country of our own) Young Prabhakaran eagerly devoured it and became hooked on the dream of a country for Tamils.
The Tamil self-rule party was defeated in the 1970 polls. No candidate including Navaratnam won. But the seeds of self-rule sowed in the campaign had taken firm root in the heart and mind of “Thamby” Prabhakaran.
Radicalised
With the introduction of standardization in 1970 the student population of Jaffna began getting radicalized. The Tamil Maanavar Peravai (Tamil students federation) and Tamil Ilaingar Peravai (Tamil youth federation) were formed. A series of meetings , processions and rallies were held.
Prabhakaran himself began participating in some of these activities. His first experience of a protest demonstration was in 1971 when former Posts and Telecommunications minister Chelliah Kumarasuriar visited Velanai to open a new post office.Tamil youths staged a black flag demonstration.
Prabhakaran also attended most of the Tamil student and youth activist meetings. Soon “thamby” began losing interest in meetings and non-violent agitation.These were too tame for him. Greatly inspired by tales of Israel’s Hagannah and Irgun, Prabhakaran became firmly convinced that Sri Lankan state oppression could be resisted only through force.
It was then that Prabhakaran wanted to buy a gun and practise shooting. There was a notorious “chandiyan” (thug) then in Point Pedro called Sambandan. He sold guns illegally. When Prabhakaran approached him for one, Sambandan priced an old pistol at 150 rupees.
Prabhakaran and some like-minded youths pooled their resources and came up with the princely sum of 40 rupees. Undeterred Prabhakaran sold his gold ring. This had been given him by his elder brother in law.
As was the custom the younger brother of the bride, Prabhakaran ,poured water on the bridegroom’s feet when he entered the bride’s house and got rewarded. This was how he acquired his first firearm.
Prabhakaran began training clandestinely. A retired soldier helped him. By now the youth was beginning to attract the attention of the Police. When the police started making inquiries about a “mani” Prabha knew what was in store.
Photograph
He left home one day to embark on his avowed vocation. Anticipating future problems Prabhakaran removed and destroyed every single photograph in the house with his picture.
When the Police caught up with him they could not get a proper picture of him and had to use only the postal identity card used by Prabhakaran to sit for examinations.
In 1982 May, Prabhakaran alias Karikalan and Sivakumar alias Raghavan of the LTTE had a shoot-out with Umamaheswaran alias Muhunthan and Jotheeswaran alias Kannan at Pondy Bazaar in Chennai. Prabhakaran was arrested and photographed and it was only then that Colombo got an up to date photo of him.
Prabhakaran teamed up with some others and formed the Tamil New Tigers. Apparently some of the old timers like Rajaratnam of Nunaavil had formed a Tiger group to fight for Tamil rights in the early sixties. This never got off the ground.
Tamil New Tigers
Prabhakaran had begun interacting with Rajaratnam and felt the new movement should be a “revival” of sorts. Hence Tamil new tigers (TNT). The acronym TNT was also applicable for the explosive compound “Trinitrotoluene”.
The TNT was led by Thanabalasingham alias Chetty of Kalviyankaadu. When the Police cracked down and began arresting prominent youth activists, Prabhakaran gave the slip and crossed over by sea to Tamil Nadu. He was to shuttle back and forth frequently in the seventies.Prabhakaran was never arrested.
Several other youth groups also emerged and engaged in acts of violence. The TNT made its mark in July 1975 with the assassination of former Jaffna MP and Mayor Alfred Durayappah as he was going to worship at the Ponnaalai Varatharajapperumaal (Vishnu) temple. Four youths including Prabhakaran were involved in the murder. Later Prabhakaran went on record that this killing was his “first military action”.
Tigers
The TNT metamorphosed into the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE) on May 5th 1976. The Tamil United Front (TUF) held its famous Vaddukkoddai Convention nine days later on May 14th 976. It was then that the TUF became TULF (Tamil United Liberation Front) and adopted the Tamil Eelam demand formally.
The TULF contested on the separatist platform in July 1977. It won 18 of 19 Tamil seats in the North-East and claimed it had a mandate for Tamil Eelam. Years later the LTTE was to say it was acting in terms of the TULF mandate.
When Prabhakaran was in the JSC (Grade eight) class one of his textbooks was “Thirumavalavan”. This was about the Chola emperor Karikalan under whose rule the “pulikkodi” (tiger flag) had supposedly fluttered proudly from “Imayam muthal Kumari” (Himalayas to Cape Comorin) . Thus Prabhakaran was fascinated by Karikalan and the tiger flag.
“puli” in Tamil denotes the tiger but the tiger on the Chola flag was the “Vengai” or cheetah. It is a far cry from the Bengal tiger on the LTTE flag now. In any case there are no tigers in Sri Lanka. We have only the leopard here. But then we have no lions but our national flag has one. In a sense the rifle-crossed tiger flag was a direct response to the sword-bearing lion.
Prabhakaran known as Mani and Maniam earlier soon took the nom de guerre Karikalan . When arrested in Pondy bazaar it was that name on police records. Later Prabhakaran’s wireless codename was HA or Hotel Alpha. This was derived from Karikalan where Kari became Hari and then HA.
The Chola emperor got the name Karikalan because he was caught in a fire and had his legs burnt. Karikalan means “dark or black legs”. Prabhakaran too had a similar experience while experimenting with explosives. There was an explosion and his legs were burnt. The skin was dark for years. Thus “karikalan” suited him appropriately.
When the LTTE was formed in 1976 Prabhakaran was only its military commander. The leader and chairman of the five-member central committee of the LTTE was Umamaheswaran. Praba was also a CC member.
Cupid
The LTTE fragmented in 1980 and Umamaheswaran formed the PLOTE. The LTTE under Prabhakaran had a working relationship with the TELO led by Thangathurai and Kuttimani. In 1981 the LTTE re-grouped under the absolute leadership of Prabhakaran. Thereafter it was a virtual one-man dictatorship.
Cupid or “Manmathan” struck Prabhakaran with his arrows in 1983-84.
Some displaced undergraduates were on a death fast at the Jaffna university premises in 1983 september. When the condition of some girls deteriorated the LTTE broke the fast and abducted those fasting. They were brought to Tamil Nadu.
At one stage four of the abducted girls stayed at the residence of Anton and Adele Balasingham and used to accompany them to the LTTE office in Indranagar. The fairest and prettiest of them all was Madhivadhani Erambu. Her father Erambu was a schoolmaster from Pungudutheevu in Jaffna.
During the Indian “Holi” festival people spray coloured powder and coloured water on each other. Madhivadhani held a bet with her friends and boldly drenched Prabhakaran with turmeric dissolved water. Praba was furious and berated her. Madhi started sobbing.
Hours later when the tiger supremo was leaving the office , he found her in a corner weeping.He went up to her and spoke softly asking her not to cry. Madhivathani looked up at him with tear-filled eyes. Praba’s heart was pierced.
[..They married in 1984]
Thereafter Prabhakaran began visiting the Balasingham’s frequently. He brought flowers and sweets for Madhi. Prabhakaran had been a shy, introverted person and had never mingled with girls outside his family. This was a new experience. Anton Balasingham encouraged the romance. They married in 1984.
Children
There was a hitch. The LTTE code of conduct tabooed marriage. So the top commanders were summoned to Tamil Nadu and a Central committee meeting convened.
There a new regulation was introduced enabling those with five years experience to marry. The Madhi-Praba marriage took place in a temple with senior tiger commanders including KP in attendance.
They had three children. The eldest was named Charles Anthony born in 1985. He was named after Praba’s best friend and military commander Charles Anthony alias Seelan who died in Meesalai, Chavakachcheri.
The next was Duvaraga the daughter born in 1986. She was named after a favourite bodyguard Mayooran whose real name was Duvaaragan. The third was a son born in 1997. He was named Balachandran after Madhivathani’s own brother who also joined the LTTE and died in combat.
[In Jaffna, 1987]
The demise of Prabhakaran along with family members and senior commanders marks the end of an eventful chapter in the long drawn out struggle of the Tamil people to achieve equal rights in the Island of Sri Lanka.
D.B.S.Jeyaraj can be reached at djeyaraj2005@yahoo.com
by D.B.S. Jeyaraj
The evolution and growth of the armed struggle for the goal of Tamil Eelam saw many Tamil militant groups emerge across the politico-military horizon. There was a time when nearly 34 outfits-big and small-existed.
Among all these, the single organization that kept the Tamil armed struggle alive was none other than the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE) led by its charismatic leader Thiruvengadam Velupillai Prabhakaran.
From its de-jure birth on May 5th 1976 to its de-facto death on May 18th the LTTE under Prabhakaran fought on relentlessly towards its avowed objective of a separate Tamil state until the very last.
During the emergency period of 1975-77 , Indira Gandhi the Prime Minister of India was praised to the skies by sycophantic partymen. The Congress president of the time DK Baruah publicly proclaimed “Indira is India, India is Indira”.
Likewise the same could be said of Prabhakaran and the LTTE too. “The LTTE is /was Prabhakaran, Prabhakaran is/was LTTE”. The LTTE leader in a way personified the Liberation tigers. In the process he became a powerful, vibrant symbol of the Tamil armed struggle.
Family
Prabhakaran was born on November 26th 1954. He was the youngest in a family of four children. There were two boys and two girls. One of his sisters is in Canada. The other two siblings are in Denmark. His parents who lived in the northern mainland, Wanni, are now displaced and in Vavuniya. They are under protective custody.
His father is Veerasamy Thiruvengadam Velupillai. Prabhakaran’s mother’s name is Paarvathipillai. Her maiden name was also Velupillai. She suffered a stroke recently resulting in an arm and hand being paralysed.
Prabhakaran’s family hailed from the coastal town of Valvettithurai referred to generally as VVT. His father joined the Government clerical service and eventually became a district lands officer. I think he retired from Govt service when the late Gamini Dissanayake was Lands minister.
Prabhakaran’s family was of respected lineage in VVT. They were known as belonging to the “Thirumeni kudumbam” or Thirumeni family. Prabhakaran’s ancestors constructed the famous Sivan temple of VVT. His father should have been the chief trustee but declined to be so as he was in govt service.
The LTTE leader’s father was a duty conscientious mild-mannered gentleman well respected and well-liked. People of VVT used to say that even the grass wouldn’t get crushed when Mr. Velupillai treads on it. Later many comparisons were made about father and younger son. In fact the father disapproved of the son’s path and was not on speaking terms with Prabhakaran for years and years.
Karikalan
The name Prabhakaran denotes the Sun or Sooriyan. Later his acolytes began calling him “Sooriyathevan” or “Sun God”. Being the youngest in the family he was called “Thambi” or younger brother. This pet name continued to be in vogue when he entered militant ranks as he was then perhaps the youngest of all.
Prabhakaran also adopted various names like Mani, Manivannan, Maniam and Karikaalan. It was the latter nom de guerre that he used mostly during the early days. Karikaalan refers to Thirumaavalavan of the Chola dynasty that flew the “Vengai” or Cheeta flag.
Colleagues of an earlier vintage referred to him as “maniyathhar”. Contemporaries continued calling him “thamby”. In later years young tigers used to call him “Annai” or elder brother. After a while it became “Thalaiver” or leader. Formally it was “Thesiya thalaiver” or “national leader”. Colloquially he would be called “perisu” or the big one.
Prabhakaran studied at different schools in Jaffna, Vavuniya and Batticaloa because his father was constantly transferred. The schools he studied for many years were Government College (Now Mahajana) B’caloa and Chidampara College, VVT. He was not a model student and did not even pass his GCE O’levels.
This does not mean that he was unintelligent or did not possess a thirst for knowledge. It was due to Prabhakaran being interested in other things rather than in formal education.
History
He had a photogenic memory and was an avid reader. He was particularly fond of reading history-about historical battles and historical figures.
Some of his famous historical figures were Napoleon and Alexander. The Indian freedom struggle fascinated him. He read the Tamil version of Mahatma Gandhi’s autobiography “Satya Sodhanai” in his early teens but was not enamoured of it greatly.
His ideal and idol was Netaji or Subash Chandra Bose. Netaji had ideological differences with the Mahatma about the mode of struggle for independence. At one stage he disapporoved of Gandhi’s “non-violence” and went on to form the Indian National Army (INA) to launch an armed struggle against the British.
Subsequently Chandra Bose joined forces with the Germans and Japanese to fight the British. He died in a mysterious aeroplane accident. Netaji’s famous pronouncement was “I shall fight for the freedom of my land until I shed my last drop of blood”. Prabhakaran subscribed to these sentiments whole-heartedly.
Apart from Netaji , Prabhakaran was also impressed by the Sikh freedom fighter Bhagat Singh who was sentenced to the gallows by the British rulers.Two freedom fighters from Tamil Nadu also made an impact on young Prabhakaran.
One was Vaanchinaatha Iyer who shot the Tirunelvely district collector Ashe dead at the Maniaachchi railway station. When chased by the Police Vaanchinaathan shot himself. The other was Thiruppoor Kumaran who withstood heavy beating by the Police but would not let go of the Bharatmatha flag. He was hailed as “Kodi Kaatha Kumaran” (Kumaran who saved the flag).
Hard as it may be for many to believe there was a quiet, spiritual aspect also to Prabhakaran. The “Ithihasam” (epic) Mahabharatham enthralled him. The characters he identified with were Bheema and Karna.
Prabhakaran also read the Tamil translations of Swami Vivekananda’s writings and speeches avidly. Another spiritual person he looked up to was Thirumuga Kirupananda Vaariyaar popularly called “vaariyaar”.
Gita
It is the Mahabharatha that relates the tale of Lord Krishna advising the wavering Arjuna on the battlefield “kurushetra”. The Pandavas and Gouravas (cousins) had assembled to do battle but Arjuna hesitates to fight against his kith and kin and lets slip his bow “Kaandeepam”.
Lord Krishna then tenders advice to him that each person is destined to fulfill his or her duty. It was the warrior’s duty to kill his adversary regardless of kinship. Killing the “body” of the enemy was part of heroic valour. The essence of Lord Krishna’s lecture is the “Bhagavat Gita”.
Maranathai Enni Kalangidum Vijaya-Seerkali Govindarajan-Tamil Song mp3]
Prabhakaran was greatly enamoured of principles enunciated in the Gita. In the Tamil film “Karnan” based on the Mahabharatha Lord Krishna is played by NT Rama Rao and Arjuna by Mutturaman. The Gita episode is picturised as a song Maranathai Enni Kalangidum Vijaya.” This was one of Prabhakaran’s favourite songs. It’s sung by Seerkali Govindarajan.
One person who opined that Prabhakaran had inculcated the philosophy of the Gita was former Indian High Commissioner to Sri Lanka Jyotindra Nath Dixit. This was during the time when LTTE was fighting the Indian Army. I could see that Dixit meant it as a “compliment” when he said this.
On an earlier occasion Dixit told me that of all the top Tamil militant leaders only Prabhakaran had “fire” in him. This was after Dixit met for the first time all leaders of the five big groups. Umamaheswaran-PLOTE, Sri Sabaratnam-TELO, Padmanabha-EPRLF, Balakumar-EROS and of course Prabhakaran-LTTE.
I also recall a conversation in early 1985 with former national security minister Lalith Athulathmudali. Long before the Indo-Lanka accord of 1987, Athulathmudali predicted that all the Tamil groups will give up the struggle and fall in line. But not Prabhakaran, said Lalith then. “He will never compromise and will die fighting to the last” he said. How True!
Reading
Prabhakaran was also fond of reading Tamil novels particularly those with a historical background. His favourite apparently was “Ponniyin Selvan” the magnum opus of “Kalki” (R. Krishnamoorthy). This is about Prince Arulmolivarman who evolved into the great Chola emperor Raja Raja Cholan.
He also liked the historical novels of Akhilan and Chandilyan.
[Venkayin Mainthan-by Akhilan-pic:Chandrachoodan Gopalakrishnan]
“Venkayin Mainthan” and “Kayal Vizhi” by Akhilan and “Yavana Raani”, “Kadal Puraa” and “Jalatheepam” by Chandilyan were his favourites by these two. When the LTTE bought its first maritime vessel it was named “Kadal Puraa” (sea dove) after Chandilyan’s novel.
Yet, the Tamil novel read again and again by Prabhakaran was “Kallukkul Eeram” (moisture in a stone) by RS Nallaperumaal. It is set against the backdrop of India’s freedom struggle against the British.
The chief protagonist Rangamani is one who does not believe in Gandhi’s “ahimsa” mode of struggle and espouses violence as the appropriate method to liberate India. No wonder then that Praba loved this novel. But there is a change of heart in the end but for the real life protagonist there was no moisture in the stone.
Prabhakaran was very much interested in contemporary affairs and international politics. A former comrade at arms of Prabhakaran, Thalayasingham Sivakumar alias Anton Master told me how the LTTE subscribed to “Time” and “Newsweek” those days. Praba would ask friends knowledgeable in English to translate and explain articles.
In later years when the LTTE developed into a full-fledged outfit, important articles from magazines and newspapers were translated into Tamil for Prabakharan’s consumption. Also many books on military affairs and warfare were translated into Tamil.
Puritan
As a schoolboy, Prabhakaran like most youngsters of his age was fond of cycling and playing volley ball and soccer. But he was no sportsman and preferred to read or watch action films.
He has been ridiculed often for telling an American journalist that he learnt his fighting techniques from Clint Eastwood movies. But what happened really was that the US scribe was questioning him whether he had been trained in Cuba. It was as a joke that Prabha responded citing Eastwood.
Another pursuit in boyhood was the targeting of squirrels, lizards. Chameleons and small birds with a catapult. As a kid Praba would prowl about areas of dense vegetation searching for his quarry.
His memory power was legendary. Prabhakaran would remember faces, names and the last time he had seen someone years ago. His eyes were always sharp and roving taking in the surrounding area and ever on the alert. His eyes were large and striking and was teased as “muliyan” (goggle-eye)
Prabhakaran was also a “puritan” in many ways. He neither drank nor smoked and even advocated sexual abstinence for all in the early days of the movement. Order and cleanliness was almost an obsession. He was a stickler for discipline.
Cook
He was always neatly dressed preferring “bush shirts” and short-sleeved shirts. The bush shirt was helpful as it covered hidden firearms. It is said that even during the early stages of militancy when there was an acute shortage of funds, Prabhakaran would wash and iron his few clothes regularly and always maintain a dapper appearance.
He was a good cook and also fond of good food. He relished Chinese cuisine. Prabhakaran was also fond of Pittu, coconut sambol and Fried shrimp. He also liked Iguana and tortoise flesh. He liked fruits and natural bee’s honey.
Usually LTTE cadres under punishment are assigned duties in the kitchen. Prabhakaran would encourage cadres to cook saying “only a good cook can be a good guerilla”.
He would often cook or help out in the kitchen when at home. A close relative who visited him once was flummoxed to see the feared guerilla leader busily scraping coconuts in the kitchen.
Prabhakaran’s attitude and political thinking was shaped by contemporary events and environment. The gruesome tales he heard as a four year old child about the 1958 anti-Tamil violence impacted greatly.
One day Prabhakaran’s home had a woman visitor whose legs were scarred by burns. Upon inquiring the little boy was told that the woman’s home had been set on fire by a “Sinhala” mob. She had escaped with burns.
Valvettithurai
Young Praba also heard the famous story of the Brahmin priest in Panadura being burnt to death in a bonfire and also about the infant thrown into a tar barrel. All these tales made an indelible impression.
Being a native of Valvettithurai was another factor in making a militant out of Prabhakaran. VVT had acquired a reputation for smuggling and had a sub-culture of its own. “Operation Monty” was launched by the armed forces in post-independence Sri Lanka to check and counter illicit immigration and smuggling.
This necessitated the setting up of security camps in VVT from the early fifties of the last century. There was much friction as a result of this hostile, “alien” presence.This in turn led to a confrontational mood prevailing between the people and armed forces long before the political crisis escalated in the seventies.
It was in this environment that Prabhakaran and a host of other VVT youth grew up. As Sathasivampillai Krishnakumar alias Kittu and Gopalswamy Mahendrarajah alias Mahathaya explained to me on different occasions, many youths of their generation grew up in VVT with anger and resentment towards the armed forces and by extension the government in Colombo held responsible.
Prabhakaran growing up in this atmosphere got politically motivated in the late sixties and early seventies of the previous century. This was when former Kayts MP. V. Navaratnam roke away from the Ilankai Thamil Arasu Katchi (ITAK) known as Federal Party (FP) in English.
Navaratnam
Navaratnam once described as the “golden brain” of the FP formed the “Thamilar Suyaatchi Kazhagham” or Tamil Self-Rule party in 1968. Navaratnam abandoned the federal demand as being too little and too late and instead opted for “suyaatchi” or “self-rule” a euphemism of sorts for a separate state.
There was a pedagogue named Venugopal master for whom Prabhakaran had great regard and respect. Venugopal master became an active supporter of Navaratnam. Several students including Prabhakaran became his followers and turned into ardent devotees of Tamil self-rule.
The Suyaatchi Kazhagham also started a newspaper “Viduthalai” (Liberation/Freedom). Navaratnam himself translated and serialized “Exodus” the famous novel written by Leon Uris. It was named “Namakkendroru Naadu” (A Country of our own) Young Prabhakaran eagerly devoured it and became hooked on the dream of a country for Tamils.
The Tamil self-rule party was defeated in the 1970 polls. No candidate including Navaratnam won. But the seeds of self-rule sowed in the campaign had taken firm root in the heart and mind of “Thamby” Prabhakaran.
Radicalised
With the introduction of standardization in 1970 the student population of Jaffna began getting radicalized. The Tamil Maanavar Peravai (Tamil students federation) and Tamil Ilaingar Peravai (Tamil youth federation) were formed. A series of meetings , processions and rallies were held.
Prabhakaran himself began participating in some of these activities. His first experience of a protest demonstration was in 1971 when former Posts and Telecommunications minister Chelliah Kumarasuriar visited Velanai to open a new post office.Tamil youths staged a black flag demonstration.
Prabhakaran also attended most of the Tamil student and youth activist meetings. Soon “thamby” began losing interest in meetings and non-violent agitation.These were too tame for him. Greatly inspired by tales of Israel’s Hagannah and Irgun, Prabhakaran became firmly convinced that Sri Lankan state oppression could be resisted only through force.
It was then that Prabhakaran wanted to buy a gun and practise shooting. There was a notorious “chandiyan” (thug) then in Point Pedro called Sambandan. He sold guns illegally. When Prabhakaran approached him for one, Sambandan priced an old pistol at 150 rupees.
Prabhakaran and some like-minded youths pooled their resources and came up with the princely sum of 40 rupees. Undeterred Prabhakaran sold his gold ring. This had been given him by his elder brother in law.
As was the custom the younger brother of the bride, Prabhakaran ,poured water on the bridegroom’s feet when he entered the bride’s house and got rewarded. This was how he acquired his first firearm.
Prabhakaran began training clandestinely. A retired soldier helped him. By now the youth was beginning to attract the attention of the Police. When the police started making inquiries about a “mani” Prabha knew what was in store.
Photograph
He left home one day to embark on his avowed vocation. Anticipating future problems Prabhakaran removed and destroyed every single photograph in the house with his picture.
When the Police caught up with him they could not get a proper picture of him and had to use only the postal identity card used by Prabhakaran to sit for examinations.
In 1982 May, Prabhakaran alias Karikalan and Sivakumar alias Raghavan of the LTTE had a shoot-out with Umamaheswaran alias Muhunthan and Jotheeswaran alias Kannan at Pondy Bazaar in Chennai. Prabhakaran was arrested and photographed and it was only then that Colombo got an up to date photo of him.
Prabhakaran teamed up with some others and formed the Tamil New Tigers. Apparently some of the old timers like Rajaratnam of Nunaavil had formed a Tiger group to fight for Tamil rights in the early sixties. This never got off the ground.
Tamil New Tigers
Prabhakaran had begun interacting with Rajaratnam and felt the new movement should be a “revival” of sorts. Hence Tamil new tigers (TNT). The acronym TNT was also applicable for the explosive compound “Trinitrotoluene”.
The TNT was led by Thanabalasingham alias Chetty of Kalviyankaadu. When the Police cracked down and began arresting prominent youth activists, Prabhakaran gave the slip and crossed over by sea to Tamil Nadu. He was to shuttle back and forth frequently in the seventies.Prabhakaran was never arrested.
Several other youth groups also emerged and engaged in acts of violence. The TNT made its mark in July 1975 with the assassination of former Jaffna MP and Mayor Alfred Durayappah as he was going to worship at the Ponnaalai Varatharajapperumaal (Vishnu) temple. Four youths including Prabhakaran were involved in the murder. Later Prabhakaran went on record that this killing was his “first military action”.
Tigers
The TNT metamorphosed into the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE) on May 5th 1976. The Tamil United Front (TUF) held its famous Vaddukkoddai Convention nine days later on May 14th 976. It was then that the TUF became TULF (Tamil United Liberation Front) and adopted the Tamil Eelam demand formally.
The TULF contested on the separatist platform in July 1977. It won 18 of 19 Tamil seats in the North-East and claimed it had a mandate for Tamil Eelam. Years later the LTTE was to say it was acting in terms of the TULF mandate.
When Prabhakaran was in the JSC (Grade eight) class one of his textbooks was “Thirumavalavan”. This was about the Chola emperor Karikalan under whose rule the “pulikkodi” (tiger flag) had supposedly fluttered proudly from “Imayam muthal Kumari” (Himalayas to Cape Comorin) . Thus Prabhakaran was fascinated by Karikalan and the tiger flag.
“puli” in Tamil denotes the tiger but the tiger on the Chola flag was the “Vengai” or cheetah. It is a far cry from the Bengal tiger on the LTTE flag now. In any case there are no tigers in Sri Lanka. We have only the leopard here. But then we have no lions but our national flag has one. In a sense the rifle-crossed tiger flag was a direct response to the sword-bearing lion.
Prabhakaran known as Mani and Maniam earlier soon took the nom de guerre Karikalan . When arrested in Pondy bazaar it was that name on police records. Later Prabhakaran’s wireless codename was HA or Hotel Alpha. This was derived from Karikalan where Kari became Hari and then HA.
The Chola emperor got the name Karikalan because he was caught in a fire and had his legs burnt. Karikalan means “dark or black legs”. Prabhakaran too had a similar experience while experimenting with explosives. There was an explosion and his legs were burnt. The skin was dark for years. Thus “karikalan” suited him appropriately.
When the LTTE was formed in 1976 Prabhakaran was only its military commander. The leader and chairman of the five-member central committee of the LTTE was Umamaheswaran. Praba was also a CC member.
Cupid
The LTTE fragmented in 1980 and Umamaheswaran formed the PLOTE. The LTTE under Prabhakaran had a working relationship with the TELO led by Thangathurai and Kuttimani. In 1981 the LTTE re-grouped under the absolute leadership of Prabhakaran. Thereafter it was a virtual one-man dictatorship.
Cupid or “Manmathan” struck Prabhakaran with his arrows in 1983-84.
Some displaced undergraduates were on a death fast at the Jaffna university premises in 1983 september. When the condition of some girls deteriorated the LTTE broke the fast and abducted those fasting. They were brought to Tamil Nadu.
At one stage four of the abducted girls stayed at the residence of Anton and Adele Balasingham and used to accompany them to the LTTE office in Indranagar. The fairest and prettiest of them all was Madhivadhani Erambu. Her father Erambu was a schoolmaster from Pungudutheevu in Jaffna.
During the Indian “Holi” festival people spray coloured powder and coloured water on each other. Madhivadhani held a bet with her friends and boldly drenched Prabhakaran with turmeric dissolved water. Praba was furious and berated her. Madhi started sobbing.
Hours later when the tiger supremo was leaving the office , he found her in a corner weeping.He went up to her and spoke softly asking her not to cry. Madhivathani looked up at him with tear-filled eyes. Praba’s heart was pierced.
[..They married in 1984]
Thereafter Prabhakaran began visiting the Balasingham’s frequently. He brought flowers and sweets for Madhi. Prabhakaran had been a shy, introverted person and had never mingled with girls outside his family. This was a new experience. Anton Balasingham encouraged the romance. They married in 1984.
Children
There was a hitch. The LTTE code of conduct tabooed marriage. So the top commanders were summoned to Tamil Nadu and a Central committee meeting convened.
There a new regulation was introduced enabling those with five years experience to marry. The Madhi-Praba marriage took place in a temple with senior tiger commanders including KP in attendance.
They had three children. The eldest was named Charles Anthony born in 1985. He was named after Praba’s best friend and military commander Charles Anthony alias Seelan who died in Meesalai, Chavakachcheri.
The next was Duvaraga the daughter born in 1986. She was named after a favourite bodyguard Mayooran whose real name was Duvaaragan. The third was a son born in 1997. He was named Balachandran after Madhivathani’s own brother who also joined the LTTE and died in combat.
[In Jaffna, 1987]
The demise of Prabhakaran along with family members and senior commanders marks the end of an eventful chapter in the long drawn out struggle of the Tamil people to achieve equal rights in the Island of Sri Lanka.
D.B.S.Jeyaraj can be reached at djeyaraj2005@yahoo.com
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Observations on the LTTE from a Kurdish Nationalist Comrade
As readers would have noticed the piece “last days of Thiruvengadam Velupillai Prabhakaran” has attracted many readers and comments. Among these comments was one by A kurdish nationalist , Shexmus Amed. It was a detailed in depth comment and obviously heartfelt but well thought-out.
I feel that these observations deserve to be read widely. So I’ve posted it on my blog this time and hope many will read and digest what is said.
Regardless of whether one agrees or disagrees with some of the points it would be good for all of us to know how another observer from a “transnational Nation” struggling for a homeland of its own perceives the LTTE led armed struggle.
As for me it was quite refreshing to see a totally different perspective from that of myriad western and Indian journalist views of recent developments.
To strike a personal note I could not but help noticing the many similarities between this opinion and that of mine about how the LTTE had conducted itself in the past.
I would like to offer my deep condolences to the people of Tamil Eelam for their immense losses in recent months.
As a Kurd, I have followed the liberation struggle of Tamils in Sri Lanka-along with my own people’s fight for an independent state-since mid-1980s, when I first saw the pictures of uniformed female cadres of the LTTE in Jaffna and fell in love with them. The LTTE, in my view, is the gold-standard for all national liberation struggles despite its defeat. And what a glorious defeat it was! My people suffered many defeats too; in 1925, 1938, 1946, 1975, 1988, 1991 and 1999. None could match the glory of LTTE’s fight to the death. This was a struggle against overwhelming odds that ended in martyrdom for your leaders, but their memories and their struggle will live in songs and stories of all Tamil people for a thousand years to come.
That the LTTE managed to keep its leader and senior cadres alive right down to the last day and the last fire-fight before they too succumbed to the vastly superior man and fire power of the SLA is a testament to the intelligence, strength, discipline and dedication of the organisation. V. Prabhakaran and his senior commanders could have ordered the rank and file LTTE personnel to lay down their arms, before fleeing the island for a third country. The fact that they -as well as their families-did not flee the conflict zone nor surrendered, but chose to fight to the death like tens of thousands of other LTTE cadres that preceded them is a lesson to all leaders who ask others to sacrifice their lives for a cause. I doubt many insurgent leaders, Kurds included, would show as much courage and offer as much personal sacrifice in similar circumstances.
Compared to armed Kurdish movements, the LTTE had many strengths and weaknesses. Its strengths were too numerous to count. Its weaknesses and mistakes were few but deadly in the long run. In my view, there are two generalised, structural weaknesses of the LTTE, followed by a few specific mistakes they made.
Firstly, the LTTE was extremely inflexible in its political expectations. In the absence of international support for an independent homeland, an autonomy agreement for a federal Tamil state in Sri Lanka was the most realistic outcome for the LTTE. It was the responsibility of a new generation of Tamils to take the struggle to its next stage, if Sri Lankan state continued to be ill-disposed towards Tamil people. By then, of course, the federal Tamil state would have gained some international recognition for the status quo and thus would have been far less isolated as a ‘terrorist’ outfit. That V. Prabakharan instructed his bodyguards to shoot him if he deviated from the demand for independence is a clear sign of the inflexibility of the LTTE leadership.
Secondly, the LTTE put unnecessary emphasis on revenge and retaliation. As Clausewitz famously said, “war is politics by other means”. In politics,-as in war-revenge and retaliation is always secondary to the main objective. Every political act must be judged by its consequences; that is, whether it helps bring the main objective closer to reality, not whether it satisfies primitive urges for some injustice done in the past. The assassination of Rajiv Gandhi and many attacks on Sinhala leadership, some of whom were useful and could have been of further use to Tamil struggle in time, are cases in point.
In more specific mistakes, the LTTE should have pushed on to re-capture Jaffna at all costs after liberating the Elephant Pass in 1999, even if this meant losing ground elsewhere. The cost could have been very high with tens of thousands of SLA soldiers still occupying the peninsula but the SL political and military forces were in complete disarray. Unfortunately, the window of opportunity was lost and the LTTE eventually found itself fighting on more than one front.
The ceasefire agreement of 2002, following the 9/11 events, was correct; perhaps inevitable. However, the Indian Ocean Tsunami of late 2004 and its devastating effect on Tamil territory should have humbled Prabakharan and the LTTE into seeking a genuine half-way compromise with the SL government. It should be noted that the Tsunami and its effects ended the Aceh independence movement and it should have played a role in LTTE’s political calculation as well.
Another grave error was the boycotting of elections in 2005 that brought hardliners to government in Sri Lanka. As a general rule, people should never ever be asked to refrain from voting in an election under any circumstances. The benefits of election boycotts, such as refreshing community spirit and as gestures of dissatisfaction, are small and ephemeral. They are far outweighed by the dangers as well as the real and lasting costs of handing the power to a less amenable adversary.
Karuna’s rebellion should also have been foreseen and dealt with quite early and sincerely. As a faraway, non-Tamil observer, nothing disappointed me in LTTE as much as the Tiger vs Tiger violence. I can imagine its demoralising effect on all Tamils. As a Kurd, I am not unfamiliar with infighting among our people and between many of our political parties, but never has a single, Kurdish military outfit turned its guns on to itself. Perhaps, Karuna was also motivated by Prabhakaran’s inflexibility, the effects of the Tsunami and the result of election boycott of 2005.
If, as was charged, Prabhakaran committed the grave error of ‘narrow regionalism’ in LTTE, then Karuna could have only compounded the error with his rebellion. (’Narrow regionalism’, that is, giving preferential treatment to people of certain regions, is considered a great sin among Kurdish movements. Still, it’s inevitable and widespread) But more likely, being the supremo of the Eastern Tamils must have gotten to Karuna’s head, and he must have considered himself a better leader for the entire LTTE than Prabhakaran.
History will never forgive Karuna for betraying his commitment and turning his guns on his leader and comrades no matter what the real reasons for his defection might be. The best and most honourable action for Karuna, as well as for his movement and for his people, was to either resign altogether from all his functions and duties within the LTTE -after voicing his grievances in private, even if it meant death for him-or seek a less active role in the movement.
He did neither, preferring to be an active turncoat. Beloved, respected and trusted neither by Tamils nor Sinhalese, Karuna will surely meet a violent end, with each side crediting the other for it, and with very few people shedding tears for his demise.
People of Tamil Eelam are smart, talented and resourceful. You shall rise again from your ashes. By ballots or bullets, Tamil Eelam shall become a reality so long as you keep up your hopes and dreams alive. - Shexmus Amed
Friday, May 22, 2009
Sisters in arms in doomed fight
Niromi de Soyza | May 23, 2009
Article from: The Australian
DECEMBER 23, 1987, was a warm, clear day, and I was hiding under a lantana bush with eight of my comrades in a village north of Jaffna. With our rifles cocked and our cyanide capsules clenched between our teeth, we awaited the soldiers who had been scouring the area for us for several hours.
Our orders were to empty our magazines into them before biting into the glass capsules we called "kuppies" that hung on a thread around our necks. As a Tamil Tiger guerilla, there was no honour in being caught alive. There had been 22 of us that morning: nine boys and 13 girls, aged 15 to 26. (I was 17.)
Now, four of my comrades were missing, two were wounded. Ten were dead. At dawn that day Indian soldiers had surrounded our hideout, an abandoned house in Urumpiraay, a village in Sri Lanka's far north. As the war had intensified, our units were being squeezed out of Jaffna peninsula. We slept in different places each night, in open fields or houses taken by force.
Our sentry had spotted the enemy soldiers beyond a distant line of trees to the south and Muralie, our unit's second in command, decided we should flee north across an arterial road. The morning chill was still in the air and the dew dripped from banana leaves as we ran through fields and approached the road. As we attempted to cross it, we were ambushed from both sides in a barrage of automatic gunfire, grenades and mortars. "Get on the ground!" Muralie commanded. "Fire and break through!" Everyone was screaming.
We crashed to the earth as the gunfire grew heavier, now coming from behind as well. A helicopter gunship hovered above, strafing. We were surrounded. There was no cover other than a few palmyra and banana trees that dotted the landscape.
Lying on my stomach, I shuffled forward, following another girl, Ajanthi. My heart was pounding and thick smoke stung my eyes. In a state of panic, a few of my comrades attempted to cross the road. One by one, they fell. One was on her back, screaming, "My leg, someone help me!" A grenade flew over from my left. As I scrambled to my hands and knees, I realised Gandhi, our area leader, was in its path. "Gandhi anna, duck!" I screamed. The grenade hit his head and exploded, ripping his skull apart and covering me with blood.
Ajanthi got to her knees, ready to dash across the road, then abruptly fell backwards, her arms and legs splayed awkwardly. Blood spurted from the centre of her forehead, soaking her auburn hair. In shock, the air left my lungs and I could not inhale it back.
Ajanthi had been my friend since primary school and we had joined the Tigers together. She had been hit by a sniper. I crawled forward holding my AK47 with both hands, desperate to reach Ajanthi and drag her to safety. To my right, two comrades were trying to drag Muralie, who had also been hit, through the wet grass. His blood-soaked body kept slipping through their hands.
As I reached Ajanthi our unit commander, Sudharshan, yanked me by the collar, dragging me with him. "But Sudharshan anna," I said, stumbling to my feet. "We have to get Ajanthi, Muralie and the others."
"They will follow us," he said. We ran through the fields and scrambled over a concrete parapet as rifle rounds flew from behind us, gouging holes in the wall. On the other side, we kept running and found five comrades. Seeing no means of escape, we took shelter under a large lantana bush.
At sunset, confident that the soldiers had moved on, we set out through fields, supporting the injured, eventually reaching a gathering of huts on a narrow lane.
News of our arrival spread quickly and a curious crowd assembled along the sides of the lane. Most had never seen female Tigers before. An old woman flung her bony arms around me: "Ayyo, my poor child! Wouldn't your mother's heart break if she saw you like this?" I didn't realise then how I must have looked: a starved teenage girl with torn clothes, caked in blood, barefoot and carrying an automatic rifle.
Most villagers wanted us gone. If the enemy soldiers knew we were still around, they were sure to attack the village.
On Christmas Day we arrived at a hideout occupied by another Tigers unit. I sat outside on the mud veranda, thinking about the ambush. Since joining the Tigers, Ajanthi and I - and another girl, Akila - had been inseparable. The last time I had seen Akila she had been firing her M16 rifle from behind a water tank during the ambush. Sengamalam, one of the boys, told me that more than 2000 soldiers had been involved in the round-up of our 22-strong unit and had dumped the bodies of those who died in the open air. My mind swum with images of Ajanthi and Muralie, their bodies being scavenged by dogs.
I heard footsteps and looked up to see the silhouette of three figures approaching our hut. I recognised the tall Akila, her hair in plaits, and ran towards her. As we embraced she told me that, after the ambush, she had survived by hiding in the water tank for two days. "I wish I was dead, like Ajanthi," I spluttered. "How will I face her family again?" "We have to keep their dream of Tamil Eelam alive," Akila said.
For me, the dream felt far from reach. I was born in 1969 in Kandy, a Sinhala-majority town in Sri Lanka's hill country, where I spent the first seven years of my childhood.
Although I had Tamil ancestry - Tamils make up 18 per cent of Sri Lanka's population - my extended family included Sinhalese, Sri Lanka's main ethnic group. In 1978 I was packed off to the northern Tamil city of Jaffna to live with my grandmother, whom I hardly knew. "So that you can become a doctor like your aunts and uncles," my father reasoned. "Education in Jaffna is far superior."
I was a confident, independent girl and my parents believed that I would cope well in a new environment without them. Though I was unsure about becoming a doctor, life in Jaffna was idyllic. Not knowing when I would see my family again, I began to distance myself from them and focused on shaping my own life, making new friends and working hard at school. My weekends were busy with music, art and drama lessons.
Soon after, my father, an engineer, went to work in Dubai. (It was becoming difficult for Tamils to get good jobs at home.) My mother, a teacher, and sister, who was three years my junior, joined me in Jaffna. I had been oblivious to the deep-rooted tensions that were simmering between the Tamils and Sinhalese, and knew nothing of the anti-Tamil riots that had killed more than 250 Tamils in the country the year before. But before long the growing unrest outside my sheltered world was hard to ignore. Tamil pressure groups were becoming more vocal in their calls for equal rights between Tamils and Sinhalese, and an end to what many Tamils felt were the Government's discriminatory policies. Meanwhile, Sinhala extremism in the south was growing. There were boycotts, strikes and skirmishes. There were reports of Tamil politicians being shot dead, Tamil students being kidnapped. The quest for equality had spawned several militant groups, including the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam, known as Tamil Tigers outside Sri Lanka.
In the late 1970s they had taken up an armed struggle for an autonomous Tamil homeland - Tamil Eelam - in the north and northeast of the country. To begin with, they carried out minor attacks on government targets, but on July 23, 1983, when I was 14, they ambushed an army patrol in Jaffna, putting them into the national spotlight.
Thirteen soldiers died that day but about 1000 Tamils were said to have lost their lives in an anti-Tamil pogrom in the south that followed. Large numbers of Tamil men, mostly teenagers, reacted to what they saw as the Sri Lankan government's indiscriminate persecution of innocent Tamils and joined the insurgency, which was rapidly gathering support. By 1985 the situation had escalated into full-scale war in the north and east, with the government launching a military offensive on Jaffna to wipe out the rebellion.
From a normal happy upbringing, I found myself living in constant fear. Jaffna's library, where I spent much of my free time, was burned down by government forces. We lived under indiscriminate aerial bombing and artillery shelling, day and night; our movements were restricted by long curfews. We spent many days in our home-built bunker where I studied, listening to gunshots and explosions, still hopeful that my exams would go ahead as scheduled.
The Tigers' television station broadcast images of war: militant training camps, dead bodies, Tamil funerals. The images began to haunt me and I felt outraged that no one was being held to account and that the outside world was doing nothing.
The government launched further offensives and air raids became commonplace. Bodies were sometimes strewn by the roadside on my way to school, or hanging from lampposts. I was dismayed by the attitude of family and friends who believed that they had no power to change the situation, but didn't support the militant groups either.
"These movements are run mostly by uneducated, low-caste youth," they said. "They are not capable of solving the Tamil problem." But at least they were trying, I thought. The more I listened to the militants, the more I sympathised with the idea of an armed struggle, the more it seemed like the only response.
There had never been any military connections in my family but I felt that if we were going to be killed or driven from our homes, then shouldn't we at least put up a fight? With friends, I talked about joining the insurgency, though few felt the same, believing that such actions would bring disgrace to our families. Middle-class girls didn't do such things.
In May 1987, when I was 17, the Sinhala government launched Operation Liberation, declaring all-out war against the Tamil militants on the Jaffna peninsula. By now, the Tigers had gained administrative control of the region, restricting government forces to their barracks. My mother decided that we would return to Kandy until the war was over.
As we prepared to leave, I made up my mind to run away to join the Tigers. I told my mother that I was going to Ajanthi's to say goodbye. After I told Ajanthi my plans, she said, "I'll come with you for moral support", and we set off together for the office of the Student Organisation of Liberation Tigers, a large house near Jaffna University.
We were interviewed. They were hesitant about recruiting middle-class girls but finally relented. Ajanthi said she would miss me too much if I left without her and enlisted too.
"The life of a freedom fighter is harder than you think," Thileepan, the leader of the Tigers' political wing, warned us, adjusting his spectacles. "We gamble with our own lives and bury our friends. There'll be none of the comforts you are used to. I'm not convinced that you are suited to this lifestyle, but no one here is held against their will." Knowing my mother and sister were out, I went home and wrote them a note explaining that I had joined the Tigers. The following morning, naturally, my mother and sister and Ajanthi's family came to the Tigers' camp to plead with us to return home. "You are about to ruin your life. This is not for you," my mother said, grasping my hands, her eyes filled with tears. Ajanthi's father said we had been brainwashed. Thileepan sent us to work with members of the Tigers' female political wing, the Freedom Birds, contributing articles to their magazine.
At their headquarters we met Akila, who at 17 was already an active member. We immediately became friends. A few weeks later, Ajanthi and I were selected by Thileepan for military training and sent to an all-girls' camp in an outer suburb of Jaffna.
As we were the first group of female fighters to receive military training in Sri Lanka (at this point there were fewer than 80 female Tigers), the LTTE's enigmatic leader, Velupillai Prabhakaran, wanted to talk to us personally. Prabhakaran was seated behind a table in his office as I entered. The flame from a hurricane lamp cast shadows across his round face and his large brown eyes glistened. Although he did not ask many questions, it felt like he knew everything about me. "There's hardly anyone in our movement from your suburb," he said. "Most girls here come from rural areas. They are used to hard work, pounding rice and chopping firewood. Be in no doubt: training is going to be harder for you."
Training, in a village south of Jaffna, was indeed gruelling. The days began with a two-hour exercise regime, followed by commando training. In the afternoons we had firing practice and lessons in explosives and camouflage. Prabhakaran would visit often and one afternoon expressed his desire to recruit us into the newly formed Black Tigers, the organisation's suicide bomber wing. Only a week earlier the first of the Tigers' suicide bombers, known as Captain Miller, had driven a lorry packed with explosives into an army barracks. Prabhakaran wanted to give women the same opportunity, he said. I knew I could never do such a thing because I didn't have the courage. As the war escalated, civilians were being drawn into the conflict and a humanitarian crisis was developing.
Eventually, the Indian government intervened. It was no secret that India had been fostering Tamil militants and providing them with training and ammunition, and the relationship between the Indian and Sri Lankan governments was strained. Then the peacekeeping forces arrived, a ceasefire came into effect and a peace accord was implemented on July 29, 1987. The war-weary Tamils welcomed the Indian Peace Keeping Forces with open arms and our training came to an abrupt halt. But Prabhakaran informed us that our services would be required in a month or two; he was sure that hostilities would resume by then. Like the Sri Lankan government, he did not appreciate the foreign intrusion. So it came to pass.
In September 1987, while other Tamil militant organisations engaged in the political process, Thileepan went on a hunger strike at the Nallur Hindu Temple near Jaffna in protest against aspects of the peace deal.
Mass rallies were organised by pro-Tiger Tamils in Jaffna and by Sinhala extremists in the south, both believing the IPKF's intervention served only to assert India's supremacy in the region. Fourteen days later, Thileepan died. The Tigers blamed the Indian government for his death and for standing aside while Sinhalese forces violated the peace deal by arresting prominent Tigers despite the amnesty provisions and organising Sinhala settlement programs in Tamil areas.
The war resumed, just as Prabhakaran had predicted, though now we were fighting not only the government troops but the peacekeepers, too. A few thousand youths suited only for guerilla warfare, we were no match for the world's second largest army.
Fighting the Indians made no sense to me. I had joined the Tigers to make a stand against my country's oppressive government but found myself at war with those who had come to maintain peace. It seemed that we might be destroying our only chance of resolving the situation peacefully.
I expressed my doubts to Akila. Fiercely loyal and single-minded, she argued that, as foot soldiers, we were unaware of the complex politics of the situation and that our leaders knew exactly what they were doing. "Believe that Anna Prabhakaran is always right," she told me. I decided to ignore the growing disquiet inside me and joined the war.
In October 1987 I was sent to the battle front north of Jaffna where, by coincidence, Akila and Ajanthi joined me in a unit of 30 cadres. The first female Tiger had died only a few days earlier, confirming that women were now firmly engaged in frontline fighting. During battles we fired in the general direction of the enemy, not at individual targets, and I am not sure whether any of my bullets hit anyone. I'm glad I don't know. I once asked the more experienced Muralie how he had coped with the knowledge that he had shot people. "After your second victim," he said, "you learn to live with it." The Tigers had no chance of overpowering the Indian army.
Jaffna and many surrounding areas were under their total control. We were being ambushed on an almost daily basis, becoming accustomed to life on the run. Support among Tamil civilians was waning, too. Whenever we encountered them, they pleaded with us to stop this futile war. By early 1988 self-preservation was our main strategy.
Forced out of the Jaffna peninsula by the IPKF and following an overnight boat trip, we found ourselves in the jungles of the Vanni in the Northeastern Province, where it was easier to lie low. I was part of a large unit of nearly 45 girls, with Sengamalam, one of only two boys, in charge. We moved around the jungle constantly, enduring primitive living conditions, while 130,000 Indian troops searched for some 2000 Tigers on foot and by air.
After five months in the jungle, I contracted malaria; many others were ill with dysentery and typhoid.
Akila stayed by my side, taking care of me, bringing medication and rice water in a rusty tin. I felt broken, physically and emotionally, constantly questioning the purpose of a war that could clearly never be won. I had believed the militant propaganda, convinced that Tamil Eelam could be achieved within a year or two, but it was clear that an armed conflict would resolve nothing. "You are free to go home any time," Thileepan had told me. It was time to walk away while I still could. One morning in June 1988, at a house near the forest where we had taken shelter following an attack on our hideout, I approached Sengamalam as he washed at a well.
"I want to resign." He stopped drying his face with a sarong and looked at me with alarm. "Is someone giving you grief?" "I just can't cope any more," I said. "I am tired of this war. I'm weak." Calmly, he said that he was sorry, that he was surprised I had lasted so long. "I must warn you, your life will be in grave danger from the Sri Lankan army, Indian forces, even rival organisations," he said. "Your name is on their wanted lists."
I didn't care. Surrendering my rifle and kuppie, I severed all ties with the Tigers, unsure of what the future held or whether my family would take me back. Before I left, I went to say goodbye to Akila. When she saw me wearing a dress, her jaw dropped.
"What's going on? You're leaving?" Consumed with shame, I could hardly speak.
"I can't believe you're leaving me," she sobbed. "We have so much to achieve." Before I could answer, Sengamalam hurried Akila into the forest and I watched her fade into the bright sun. I never saw her again. Sengamalam organised for a local boy to take me to an old woman's hut in the nearby town of Kilinochchi. For the next seven days, the old woman and I did not exchange a word or a smile. One afternoon, while I helped herd her cattle into the shed, I saw my mother running towards me down the dirt lane. The mayor of Kilinochchi, a distant relative of ours, had bumped into the Tamil boy who had taken me to the old woman's hut.
The mayor was carrying a photograph of me that my mother had sent him and asked the boy if he had seen me. Once I had been identified, the mayor fetched my mother. The only emotion I felt was relief, as if I was no longer capable of experiencing happiness or sadness. My mother embraced me and sobbed while I stood numb. "I thought you might have disowned me," I said, finally. "You're my daughter," she replied. "I'd never give up on you."
Within two months of being reunited with my family, during which time we never discussed my experiences with the Tigers, I was sent to a boarding school in India, where I completed my studies. Although now in the country whose army I had fought only months before, I was determined to move on and make the best of the second chance I had been given.
On the surface, normality had returned. My fellow students were girls from affluent families who liked talking about boys, movie stars and make-up. When the lights in our dormitory were turned off at night, I cried myself to sleep. In 1990, with help from a relative, I moved to Sydney (my family later moved here, too) and went to university.
After my departure from the Tigers and with a new life opening up to me, I blocked out any news of Sri Lanka as best I could. These days, of course, that is impossible. The two-year war between the Tigers and the Indian forces came to an end in July 1989, with changes of government in both countries.
But the fighting between the Tigers and Sri Lankan government forces continued. The primitive but effective guerilla organisation I left behind grew into a sophisticated and formidable fighting force.
As its methods became more extreme, the LTTE's notoriety increased, not just within Sri Lanka but across the world. (In late 2001 it was classified as a terrorist organisation by many countries, including Britain.)
The Tigers have carried out hundreds of suicide attacks during the past two decades -- more than all other radical organisations in the world combined -- notably the assassination of former Indian prime minister Rajiv Gandhi in 1991 and Sri Lankan president Ranasinghe Premadasa in 1993.
The guiding principle of the Tigers, which is so difficult for outsiders to understand, is that the greater the sacrifice, the higher the honour. There are no bravery medals or pompous ceremonies for living Tigers. They are recognised for their efforts and awarded a rank only posthumously.
The past decade has seen several attempts to form a lasting peace agreement between the Tigers and the government, all unsuccessful, with the most recent deal being torn up in early 2008. Since 2006 the LTTE's numbers have fallen sharply, funding from the Tamil diaspora has dwindled while government forces stepped up their campaign. At the beginning of this year, crucial Tiger strongholds were recaptured and the government was confident it would annihilate the remaining 1000 or so Tigers within months. After three decades, the civil war -- which has claimed more than 80,000 lives, including at least 23,000 Tigers -- appears to have reached its endgame.
But the scars of this war will remain and until a political solution that recognises and respects the rights of the Tamil people is reached, I am certain that the Tamil fight will continue in one form or another. In this age of terrorism it is easy to dismiss all rebel groups as evil extremists, without considering the desperate circumstances that drive people to align themselves to such organisations.
The only reason I joined the war was to defend my people, because I felt there was no other choice. I was not coerced to join the insurgency. As an idealistic 17-year-old, I believed in the power of the individual to make a difference. Naively, I had not anticipated how much my family would suffer as a consequence of my actions and for that, above all else, I am deeply sorry. I hope that my own children will grow up with firm, positive views, but without the blind idealism I had all those years ago. I will try to teach them tolerance and empathy, that the end doesn't always justify the means, and that violence always breeds more violence. I learned that lesson the hard way. Sadly, I don't think Sri Lanka has learned it at all.
The Daily Telegraph
*Niromi de Soyza is a pseudonym.
Article from: The Australian
DECEMBER 23, 1987, was a warm, clear day, and I was hiding under a lantana bush with eight of my comrades in a village north of Jaffna. With our rifles cocked and our cyanide capsules clenched between our teeth, we awaited the soldiers who had been scouring the area for us for several hours.
Our orders were to empty our magazines into them before biting into the glass capsules we called "kuppies" that hung on a thread around our necks. As a Tamil Tiger guerilla, there was no honour in being caught alive. There had been 22 of us that morning: nine boys and 13 girls, aged 15 to 26. (I was 17.)
Now, four of my comrades were missing, two were wounded. Ten were dead. At dawn that day Indian soldiers had surrounded our hideout, an abandoned house in Urumpiraay, a village in Sri Lanka's far north. As the war had intensified, our units were being squeezed out of Jaffna peninsula. We slept in different places each night, in open fields or houses taken by force.
Our sentry had spotted the enemy soldiers beyond a distant line of trees to the south and Muralie, our unit's second in command, decided we should flee north across an arterial road. The morning chill was still in the air and the dew dripped from banana leaves as we ran through fields and approached the road. As we attempted to cross it, we were ambushed from both sides in a barrage of automatic gunfire, grenades and mortars. "Get on the ground!" Muralie commanded. "Fire and break through!" Everyone was screaming.
We crashed to the earth as the gunfire grew heavier, now coming from behind as well. A helicopter gunship hovered above, strafing. We were surrounded. There was no cover other than a few palmyra and banana trees that dotted the landscape.
Lying on my stomach, I shuffled forward, following another girl, Ajanthi. My heart was pounding and thick smoke stung my eyes. In a state of panic, a few of my comrades attempted to cross the road. One by one, they fell. One was on her back, screaming, "My leg, someone help me!" A grenade flew over from my left. As I scrambled to my hands and knees, I realised Gandhi, our area leader, was in its path. "Gandhi anna, duck!" I screamed. The grenade hit his head and exploded, ripping his skull apart and covering me with blood.
Ajanthi got to her knees, ready to dash across the road, then abruptly fell backwards, her arms and legs splayed awkwardly. Blood spurted from the centre of her forehead, soaking her auburn hair. In shock, the air left my lungs and I could not inhale it back.
Ajanthi had been my friend since primary school and we had joined the Tigers together. She had been hit by a sniper. I crawled forward holding my AK47 with both hands, desperate to reach Ajanthi and drag her to safety. To my right, two comrades were trying to drag Muralie, who had also been hit, through the wet grass. His blood-soaked body kept slipping through their hands.
As I reached Ajanthi our unit commander, Sudharshan, yanked me by the collar, dragging me with him. "But Sudharshan anna," I said, stumbling to my feet. "We have to get Ajanthi, Muralie and the others."
"They will follow us," he said. We ran through the fields and scrambled over a concrete parapet as rifle rounds flew from behind us, gouging holes in the wall. On the other side, we kept running and found five comrades. Seeing no means of escape, we took shelter under a large lantana bush.
At sunset, confident that the soldiers had moved on, we set out through fields, supporting the injured, eventually reaching a gathering of huts on a narrow lane.
News of our arrival spread quickly and a curious crowd assembled along the sides of the lane. Most had never seen female Tigers before. An old woman flung her bony arms around me: "Ayyo, my poor child! Wouldn't your mother's heart break if she saw you like this?" I didn't realise then how I must have looked: a starved teenage girl with torn clothes, caked in blood, barefoot and carrying an automatic rifle.
Most villagers wanted us gone. If the enemy soldiers knew we were still around, they were sure to attack the village.
On Christmas Day we arrived at a hideout occupied by another Tigers unit. I sat outside on the mud veranda, thinking about the ambush. Since joining the Tigers, Ajanthi and I - and another girl, Akila - had been inseparable. The last time I had seen Akila she had been firing her M16 rifle from behind a water tank during the ambush. Sengamalam, one of the boys, told me that more than 2000 soldiers had been involved in the round-up of our 22-strong unit and had dumped the bodies of those who died in the open air. My mind swum with images of Ajanthi and Muralie, their bodies being scavenged by dogs.
I heard footsteps and looked up to see the silhouette of three figures approaching our hut. I recognised the tall Akila, her hair in plaits, and ran towards her. As we embraced she told me that, after the ambush, she had survived by hiding in the water tank for two days. "I wish I was dead, like Ajanthi," I spluttered. "How will I face her family again?" "We have to keep their dream of Tamil Eelam alive," Akila said.
For me, the dream felt far from reach. I was born in 1969 in Kandy, a Sinhala-majority town in Sri Lanka's hill country, where I spent the first seven years of my childhood.
Although I had Tamil ancestry - Tamils make up 18 per cent of Sri Lanka's population - my extended family included Sinhalese, Sri Lanka's main ethnic group. In 1978 I was packed off to the northern Tamil city of Jaffna to live with my grandmother, whom I hardly knew. "So that you can become a doctor like your aunts and uncles," my father reasoned. "Education in Jaffna is far superior."
I was a confident, independent girl and my parents believed that I would cope well in a new environment without them. Though I was unsure about becoming a doctor, life in Jaffna was idyllic. Not knowing when I would see my family again, I began to distance myself from them and focused on shaping my own life, making new friends and working hard at school. My weekends were busy with music, art and drama lessons.
Soon after, my father, an engineer, went to work in Dubai. (It was becoming difficult for Tamils to get good jobs at home.) My mother, a teacher, and sister, who was three years my junior, joined me in Jaffna. I had been oblivious to the deep-rooted tensions that were simmering between the Tamils and Sinhalese, and knew nothing of the anti-Tamil riots that had killed more than 250 Tamils in the country the year before. But before long the growing unrest outside my sheltered world was hard to ignore. Tamil pressure groups were becoming more vocal in their calls for equal rights between Tamils and Sinhalese, and an end to what many Tamils felt were the Government's discriminatory policies. Meanwhile, Sinhala extremism in the south was growing. There were boycotts, strikes and skirmishes. There were reports of Tamil politicians being shot dead, Tamil students being kidnapped. The quest for equality had spawned several militant groups, including the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam, known as Tamil Tigers outside Sri Lanka.
In the late 1970s they had taken up an armed struggle for an autonomous Tamil homeland - Tamil Eelam - in the north and northeast of the country. To begin with, they carried out minor attacks on government targets, but on July 23, 1983, when I was 14, they ambushed an army patrol in Jaffna, putting them into the national spotlight.
Thirteen soldiers died that day but about 1000 Tamils were said to have lost their lives in an anti-Tamil pogrom in the south that followed. Large numbers of Tamil men, mostly teenagers, reacted to what they saw as the Sri Lankan government's indiscriminate persecution of innocent Tamils and joined the insurgency, which was rapidly gathering support. By 1985 the situation had escalated into full-scale war in the north and east, with the government launching a military offensive on Jaffna to wipe out the rebellion.
From a normal happy upbringing, I found myself living in constant fear. Jaffna's library, where I spent much of my free time, was burned down by government forces. We lived under indiscriminate aerial bombing and artillery shelling, day and night; our movements were restricted by long curfews. We spent many days in our home-built bunker where I studied, listening to gunshots and explosions, still hopeful that my exams would go ahead as scheduled.
The Tigers' television station broadcast images of war: militant training camps, dead bodies, Tamil funerals. The images began to haunt me and I felt outraged that no one was being held to account and that the outside world was doing nothing.
The government launched further offensives and air raids became commonplace. Bodies were sometimes strewn by the roadside on my way to school, or hanging from lampposts. I was dismayed by the attitude of family and friends who believed that they had no power to change the situation, but didn't support the militant groups either.
"These movements are run mostly by uneducated, low-caste youth," they said. "They are not capable of solving the Tamil problem." But at least they were trying, I thought. The more I listened to the militants, the more I sympathised with the idea of an armed struggle, the more it seemed like the only response.
There had never been any military connections in my family but I felt that if we were going to be killed or driven from our homes, then shouldn't we at least put up a fight? With friends, I talked about joining the insurgency, though few felt the same, believing that such actions would bring disgrace to our families. Middle-class girls didn't do such things.
In May 1987, when I was 17, the Sinhala government launched Operation Liberation, declaring all-out war against the Tamil militants on the Jaffna peninsula. By now, the Tigers had gained administrative control of the region, restricting government forces to their barracks. My mother decided that we would return to Kandy until the war was over.
As we prepared to leave, I made up my mind to run away to join the Tigers. I told my mother that I was going to Ajanthi's to say goodbye. After I told Ajanthi my plans, she said, "I'll come with you for moral support", and we set off together for the office of the Student Organisation of Liberation Tigers, a large house near Jaffna University.
We were interviewed. They were hesitant about recruiting middle-class girls but finally relented. Ajanthi said she would miss me too much if I left without her and enlisted too.
"The life of a freedom fighter is harder than you think," Thileepan, the leader of the Tigers' political wing, warned us, adjusting his spectacles. "We gamble with our own lives and bury our friends. There'll be none of the comforts you are used to. I'm not convinced that you are suited to this lifestyle, but no one here is held against their will." Knowing my mother and sister were out, I went home and wrote them a note explaining that I had joined the Tigers. The following morning, naturally, my mother and sister and Ajanthi's family came to the Tigers' camp to plead with us to return home. "You are about to ruin your life. This is not for you," my mother said, grasping my hands, her eyes filled with tears. Ajanthi's father said we had been brainwashed. Thileepan sent us to work with members of the Tigers' female political wing, the Freedom Birds, contributing articles to their magazine.
At their headquarters we met Akila, who at 17 was already an active member. We immediately became friends. A few weeks later, Ajanthi and I were selected by Thileepan for military training and sent to an all-girls' camp in an outer suburb of Jaffna.
As we were the first group of female fighters to receive military training in Sri Lanka (at this point there were fewer than 80 female Tigers), the LTTE's enigmatic leader, Velupillai Prabhakaran, wanted to talk to us personally. Prabhakaran was seated behind a table in his office as I entered. The flame from a hurricane lamp cast shadows across his round face and his large brown eyes glistened. Although he did not ask many questions, it felt like he knew everything about me. "There's hardly anyone in our movement from your suburb," he said. "Most girls here come from rural areas. They are used to hard work, pounding rice and chopping firewood. Be in no doubt: training is going to be harder for you."
Training, in a village south of Jaffna, was indeed gruelling. The days began with a two-hour exercise regime, followed by commando training. In the afternoons we had firing practice and lessons in explosives and camouflage. Prabhakaran would visit often and one afternoon expressed his desire to recruit us into the newly formed Black Tigers, the organisation's suicide bomber wing. Only a week earlier the first of the Tigers' suicide bombers, known as Captain Miller, had driven a lorry packed with explosives into an army barracks. Prabhakaran wanted to give women the same opportunity, he said. I knew I could never do such a thing because I didn't have the courage. As the war escalated, civilians were being drawn into the conflict and a humanitarian crisis was developing.
Eventually, the Indian government intervened. It was no secret that India had been fostering Tamil militants and providing them with training and ammunition, and the relationship between the Indian and Sri Lankan governments was strained. Then the peacekeeping forces arrived, a ceasefire came into effect and a peace accord was implemented on July 29, 1987. The war-weary Tamils welcomed the Indian Peace Keeping Forces with open arms and our training came to an abrupt halt. But Prabhakaran informed us that our services would be required in a month or two; he was sure that hostilities would resume by then. Like the Sri Lankan government, he did not appreciate the foreign intrusion. So it came to pass.
In September 1987, while other Tamil militant organisations engaged in the political process, Thileepan went on a hunger strike at the Nallur Hindu Temple near Jaffna in protest against aspects of the peace deal.
Mass rallies were organised by pro-Tiger Tamils in Jaffna and by Sinhala extremists in the south, both believing the IPKF's intervention served only to assert India's supremacy in the region. Fourteen days later, Thileepan died. The Tigers blamed the Indian government for his death and for standing aside while Sinhalese forces violated the peace deal by arresting prominent Tigers despite the amnesty provisions and organising Sinhala settlement programs in Tamil areas.
The war resumed, just as Prabhakaran had predicted, though now we were fighting not only the government troops but the peacekeepers, too. A few thousand youths suited only for guerilla warfare, we were no match for the world's second largest army.
Fighting the Indians made no sense to me. I had joined the Tigers to make a stand against my country's oppressive government but found myself at war with those who had come to maintain peace. It seemed that we might be destroying our only chance of resolving the situation peacefully.
I expressed my doubts to Akila. Fiercely loyal and single-minded, she argued that, as foot soldiers, we were unaware of the complex politics of the situation and that our leaders knew exactly what they were doing. "Believe that Anna Prabhakaran is always right," she told me. I decided to ignore the growing disquiet inside me and joined the war.
In October 1987 I was sent to the battle front north of Jaffna where, by coincidence, Akila and Ajanthi joined me in a unit of 30 cadres. The first female Tiger had died only a few days earlier, confirming that women were now firmly engaged in frontline fighting. During battles we fired in the general direction of the enemy, not at individual targets, and I am not sure whether any of my bullets hit anyone. I'm glad I don't know. I once asked the more experienced Muralie how he had coped with the knowledge that he had shot people. "After your second victim," he said, "you learn to live with it." The Tigers had no chance of overpowering the Indian army.
Jaffna and many surrounding areas were under their total control. We were being ambushed on an almost daily basis, becoming accustomed to life on the run. Support among Tamil civilians was waning, too. Whenever we encountered them, they pleaded with us to stop this futile war. By early 1988 self-preservation was our main strategy.
Forced out of the Jaffna peninsula by the IPKF and following an overnight boat trip, we found ourselves in the jungles of the Vanni in the Northeastern Province, where it was easier to lie low. I was part of a large unit of nearly 45 girls, with Sengamalam, one of only two boys, in charge. We moved around the jungle constantly, enduring primitive living conditions, while 130,000 Indian troops searched for some 2000 Tigers on foot and by air.
After five months in the jungle, I contracted malaria; many others were ill with dysentery and typhoid.
Akila stayed by my side, taking care of me, bringing medication and rice water in a rusty tin. I felt broken, physically and emotionally, constantly questioning the purpose of a war that could clearly never be won. I had believed the militant propaganda, convinced that Tamil Eelam could be achieved within a year or two, but it was clear that an armed conflict would resolve nothing. "You are free to go home any time," Thileepan had told me. It was time to walk away while I still could. One morning in June 1988, at a house near the forest where we had taken shelter following an attack on our hideout, I approached Sengamalam as he washed at a well.
"I want to resign." He stopped drying his face with a sarong and looked at me with alarm. "Is someone giving you grief?" "I just can't cope any more," I said. "I am tired of this war. I'm weak." Calmly, he said that he was sorry, that he was surprised I had lasted so long. "I must warn you, your life will be in grave danger from the Sri Lankan army, Indian forces, even rival organisations," he said. "Your name is on their wanted lists."
I didn't care. Surrendering my rifle and kuppie, I severed all ties with the Tigers, unsure of what the future held or whether my family would take me back. Before I left, I went to say goodbye to Akila. When she saw me wearing a dress, her jaw dropped.
"What's going on? You're leaving?" Consumed with shame, I could hardly speak.
"I can't believe you're leaving me," she sobbed. "We have so much to achieve." Before I could answer, Sengamalam hurried Akila into the forest and I watched her fade into the bright sun. I never saw her again. Sengamalam organised for a local boy to take me to an old woman's hut in the nearby town of Kilinochchi. For the next seven days, the old woman and I did not exchange a word or a smile. One afternoon, while I helped herd her cattle into the shed, I saw my mother running towards me down the dirt lane. The mayor of Kilinochchi, a distant relative of ours, had bumped into the Tamil boy who had taken me to the old woman's hut.
The mayor was carrying a photograph of me that my mother had sent him and asked the boy if he had seen me. Once I had been identified, the mayor fetched my mother. The only emotion I felt was relief, as if I was no longer capable of experiencing happiness or sadness. My mother embraced me and sobbed while I stood numb. "I thought you might have disowned me," I said, finally. "You're my daughter," she replied. "I'd never give up on you."
Within two months of being reunited with my family, during which time we never discussed my experiences with the Tigers, I was sent to a boarding school in India, where I completed my studies. Although now in the country whose army I had fought only months before, I was determined to move on and make the best of the second chance I had been given.
On the surface, normality had returned. My fellow students were girls from affluent families who liked talking about boys, movie stars and make-up. When the lights in our dormitory were turned off at night, I cried myself to sleep. In 1990, with help from a relative, I moved to Sydney (my family later moved here, too) and went to university.
After my departure from the Tigers and with a new life opening up to me, I blocked out any news of Sri Lanka as best I could. These days, of course, that is impossible. The two-year war between the Tigers and the Indian forces came to an end in July 1989, with changes of government in both countries.
But the fighting between the Tigers and Sri Lankan government forces continued. The primitive but effective guerilla organisation I left behind grew into a sophisticated and formidable fighting force.
As its methods became more extreme, the LTTE's notoriety increased, not just within Sri Lanka but across the world. (In late 2001 it was classified as a terrorist organisation by many countries, including Britain.)
The Tigers have carried out hundreds of suicide attacks during the past two decades -- more than all other radical organisations in the world combined -- notably the assassination of former Indian prime minister Rajiv Gandhi in 1991 and Sri Lankan president Ranasinghe Premadasa in 1993.
The guiding principle of the Tigers, which is so difficult for outsiders to understand, is that the greater the sacrifice, the higher the honour. There are no bravery medals or pompous ceremonies for living Tigers. They are recognised for their efforts and awarded a rank only posthumously.
The past decade has seen several attempts to form a lasting peace agreement between the Tigers and the government, all unsuccessful, with the most recent deal being torn up in early 2008. Since 2006 the LTTE's numbers have fallen sharply, funding from the Tamil diaspora has dwindled while government forces stepped up their campaign. At the beginning of this year, crucial Tiger strongholds were recaptured and the government was confident it would annihilate the remaining 1000 or so Tigers within months. After three decades, the civil war -- which has claimed more than 80,000 lives, including at least 23,000 Tigers -- appears to have reached its endgame.
But the scars of this war will remain and until a political solution that recognises and respects the rights of the Tamil people is reached, I am certain that the Tamil fight will continue in one form or another. In this age of terrorism it is easy to dismiss all rebel groups as evil extremists, without considering the desperate circumstances that drive people to align themselves to such organisations.
The only reason I joined the war was to defend my people, because I felt there was no other choice. I was not coerced to join the insurgency. As an idealistic 17-year-old, I believed in the power of the individual to make a difference. Naively, I had not anticipated how much my family would suffer as a consequence of my actions and for that, above all else, I am deeply sorry. I hope that my own children will grow up with firm, positive views, but without the blind idealism I had all those years ago. I will try to teach them tolerance and empathy, that the end doesn't always justify the means, and that violence always breeds more violence. I learned that lesson the hard way. Sadly, I don't think Sri Lanka has learned it at all.
The Daily Telegraph
*Niromi de Soyza is a pseudonym.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Prabhakaran shot dead, said Sri Lankan army
The news of Prabhakaran's death saddens me the most.
Yes he was brutal, but the Sri Lankan army has proved to be hundred times more brutal.
Yes he was a maniac, but he was a maniac who stood up against Sinhala chauvinism. He never compromised on the Tamil cause. He stood for the right principle, maybe his method and attitude were wrong, but his stand was right and he stood up against a powerful enemy.
Barking & back biting after his demise is a cowardice act.. Let's look into the future & make a peaceful & beautiful future..
May his soul rest in peace.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Joke: Example of Bravery
A Spanish Naval captain was walking leisurely on his battleship when a subordinate rushes over to him and says "Sir, an enemy battleship is fast approaching us. We should be ready."
The captain replies coolly "Go. Get my Red shirt." The subordinate rushes over and gets the Shirt for his captain. The captain wears the red shirt.
After some time, the enemy battleship comes in range. Consequently heavy rounds of fire are exchanged between the two battleships. After much effort, the Spanish win.
The subordinate approaches his boss, "Congratulations for the victory sir, but why did you require the red shirt in the first place?"
The captain replies "Because, during the war if I got injured then my blood should not have been seen as I did not want my men to lose hope and to Fight with the same ferocity."
Just then another subordinate rushes over. "Sir, we just spotted another 20 enemy battleships heading in our direction."
The captain replies coolly “Go. Get my yellow trousers.”
The captain replies coolly "Go. Get my Red shirt." The subordinate rushes over and gets the Shirt for his captain. The captain wears the red shirt.
After some time, the enemy battleship comes in range. Consequently heavy rounds of fire are exchanged between the two battleships. After much effort, the Spanish win.
The subordinate approaches his boss, "Congratulations for the victory sir, but why did you require the red shirt in the first place?"
The captain replies "Because, during the war if I got injured then my blood should not have been seen as I did not want my men to lose hope and to Fight with the same ferocity."
Just then another subordinate rushes over. "Sir, we just spotted another 20 enemy battleships heading in our direction."
The captain replies coolly “Go. Get my yellow trousers.”
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Why LTTE failed
Why LTTE failed
- R. HARIHARAN
Its performance in Eelam War IV glaringly displayed Prabakaran’s limitations in mastering the art of conventional warfare.
SRI LANKA’S security forces appear to have redeemed their professional reputation with their resounding success in the fourth edition of the Eelam War, which has been going on since 2006 against the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE), popularly known as the Tamil Tigers. They were not able to achieve decisive results against the LTTE in their three earlier outings.
The United States Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) had rated the Tamil Tigers as “among the most dangerous and deadly extremists in the world”. The FBI said the LTTE’s “ruthless tactics have inspired terrorist networks worldwide, including Al Qaeda in Iraq”. So, the security forces’ success against the LTTE should not be underestimated, particularly when similar wars against insurgents and terrorists in other countries, including Afghanistan, have been dragging on.
The LTTE, over the past 25 years, has built a 15,000-strong force that innovatively adapted its suicide war tactics to both land and naval warfare with deadly results. It mastered the use of terror tactics as a force multiplier. The LTTE’s charismatic and ruthless leader, Velupillai Prabakaran, built a loyal network of cadre – the Black Tigers – whose deadly suicide terror attacks changed the course of political history in Sri Lanka and to a certain extent in India also. Now the insurgents stand reduced to a few hundreds and have lost their entire territory of over 15,000 square kilometres and their equipment, weapons, armament and infrastructure so essential for survival as a viable entity.
The LTTE demonstrated its prowess with a daring suicide attack on Colombo’s Katunayake international airport, destroying 26 military and civil aircraft, in July 2001, just four months before Al Qaeda’s dramatic 9/11 attacks in New York. It sent a strong message to Sri Lanka and the world at large that the LTTE was a formidable force not be trifled with. But the consequences of the 9/11 attack on the global attitude to terrorism was far-reaching. The U.S. marshalled forces for a global war on terror to destroy Al Qaeda and its roots in Islamist terror. And the LTTE was already listed in the U.S. as a foreign terrorist organisation.
The late Anton Balasingham, a close confidant of Prabakaran’s and the political adviser to the LTTE, apparently understood the need to modify the LTTE strategy in the face of the rising tide against terrorism. He persuaded a reluctant Prabakaran to agree to take part in a Norwegian-mediated peace process, deferring the idea of an independent Eelam in favour of finding a solution to accommodate Tamil aspirations within a federal structure. That was how the 2002 peace process came into being.
The LTTE signed the Cease Fire Agreement (CFA) with Sri Lanka in 2002 as part of the peace process from a position of political and military strength, having weathered four wars – three against Sri Lankan security forces and one against Indian forces. It was at the pinnacle of its power at that time. To a certain extent, this enabled the Tamil Tigers to dictate the terms of the peace process, which recognised it as the sole representative of the Tamil minority, a status denied to it earlier. Thus, the peace process accorded parity of status to the LTTE at the negotiating table in its equation with the elected government of Sri Lanka.
By then, the repeated stories of LTTE successes, propagated by its well-oiled propaganda machine that glossed over its significant failures (for example, the retaking of control of Jaffna by the Sri Lanka Army), reinforced the popular belief of Prabakaran’s invincibility in war. It also generated great political expectations among the Tamil population of his ability to satisfy their long-standing aspirations through the peace process although he had dropped the demand for an independent Tamil Eelam. All that has been proved wrong now.
Winston Churchill once remarked, “Those who can win a war well can rarely make a good peace and those who could make a good peace would never have won the war.” This is very true in the case of Prabakaran’s handling of events leading up to the war. His monolithic and egocentric leadership style does not encourage the free exchange of ideas except with his trusted childhood friends. This has been the big roadblock in his strategic decision-making process. Prabakaran failed to use fruitfully the political talent at his disposal, among the seasoned members of the Tamil National Alliance (TNA), in handling complex political issues during the period of peace. Their advice was neither sought nor paid heed to in taking decisions on key issues. The LTTE’s handling of the presidential poll of 2005 is one such instance when their plea for his support to elect Ranil Wickremesinghe, an architect of the peace process, went unheeded.
Wickremesinghe’s rival, Mahinda Rajapaksa, had promised, in his election manifesto, to eliminate LTTE terrorism. Prabakaran not only ignored this but, on the basis of some convoluted reasoning, enforced a boycott of the presidential poll in areas under LTTE control. This action prevented a bulk of the Tamils from voting for Wickremesinghe. This enabled Rajapaksa’s victory with a wafer-thin majority through southern Sinhala votes. And the newly elected President went about systematically dismantling the LTTE.
Similarly, Prabakaran’s handling of the international community lacked coherence. Apparently, he misunderstood the international involvement in the 2002 peace process and thought it was a vindication of the LTTE’s methods. Perhaps this made him complacent when it came to observing the ceasefire in spirit. The LTTE’s conduct, which was in utter disregard of international norms on human rights and humanitarian laws during the entire period of the ceasefire, came under severe criticism from international watchdog bodies and the United Nations. These related to a large number of issues, including the recruitment of child soldiers, illegal arrests and kidnapping apart from the assassinations and suicide bombings. This made the LTTE’s rhetoric on human rights hollow.
While the co-chairs were sympathetic to the Tamil struggle for equity, they were wary of the LTTE’s tactics and covert operations in their own countries. And the LTTE’s indifference to their counsel during the peace process eroded its credibility. Things came to a boil with the assassination of Sri Lankan Foreign Minister Lakshman Kadirgamar in August 2005. This wanton act compelled the European Union and Canada to ban the LTTE. Thus, the LTTE shot itself in the foot as it was banned in 32 countries. The ban also coincided with the introduction of strong international protocols in shipping and against money laundering to prevent the international operations of terrorists.
Prabakaran probably failed to appreciate the implications of these developments when he gave the government a legitimate excuse to abandon the peace process after the LTTE made an abortive suicide attack in April 2006 on Lieutenant General Sarath Fonseka, the Army chief. It also enabled Rajapaksa to persuade the international community to crack down on the LTTE’s support network and front organisations in their midst. International cooperation was further enlarged in scope to intelligence sharing and economic aid, which indirectly underwrote Sri Lanka’s mounting burden of war.
Similarly, Prabakaran never made any effort before the war to redeem the LTTE’s relations with India. He failed to tap the fund of sympathy for the Tamil cause that exists in India even among large sections of the non-Tamil population. Presumably, his dubious role in Rajiv Gandhi’s assassination prevented him from dispassionately examining the positive contribution India could have made in pushing the Tamil cause at the negotiating table. Apparently, he put his faith in the international community rather than in India to bail him out when the Sri Lankan government decided to go to war. This showed a lack of understanding of the complexities of international relations. On the other hand, successive Sri Lankan Presidents went out of their way to keep India in good humour and that helped the country politically and militarily in its war with the LTTE. In Eelam War III (1995-2002), the performance of the Sri Lankan security forces was far from satisfactory. By then, the LTTE had developed the Sea Tiger wing – a daring guerilla navy that played havoc with the Sri Lanka Navy. The Sri Lanka Army had suffered heavy casualties in defending Mullaithivu and suffered a huge setback in Elephant Pass despite its superior strength and firepower. In that operation, the LTTE acquired its modern artillery, armour and high-tech communication systems apart from capturing equipment.
At the start of the peace process, the security forces were a demoralised lot. The terms of the peace process further added to their misery as it prevented them from retaliating when the LTTE’s pistol groups systematically eliminated the forces’ intelligence operatives and killed even military commanders during the first three years of peace. In this backdrop, no one was sure of the ability of Sri Lanka’s forces to sustain an offensive against the LTTE when Eelam War IV started in 2006.
Even after the LTTE defeat in Mavil Aru in the Eastern Province in July 2006, the security forces were cautious in their optimism. However, the LTTE belied the defence analysts’ expectations when it floundered in the Eastern Province, offering stiff resistance only in patches. Perhaps, it was at this time that Rajapaksa and Fonseka made up their minds to go the whole hog against the LTTE in the north.
Although Prabakaran has demonstrated strategic military capability in the past, he appears to have failed to draw two obvious strategic deductions in the developing war scenario, which put the LTTE at a disadvantage. The first was not factoring the impact of the defection of Karuna, his able military commander from Batticaloa, on the LTTE’s overall military capability. The second was in underestimating the determination of Sri Lanka’s political and military leadership to turn Rajapaksa’s promise to eliminate the LTTE into a reality.Prabakaran never made any effort to patch up with Karuna, who had grievances with respect to the poor representation of easterners in the leadership although they provided the bulk of the LTTE cadre. Instead, he dispatched killers to eliminate Karuna. The rebel leader commanded wide support among cadre in the east, particularly around LTTE strongholds in Batticaloa. A direct consequence of his defection was the disbanding of a bulk of LTTE cadre, other than Karuna’s core supporters. It also drove Karuna into the arms of the Sri Lanka Army for protection. So when the war started in the east, the LTTE’s strength as well as its manoeuvring space was reduced.
In the course of time, recruitment from the east to augment LTTE strength petered out. Ultimately, when the security forces launched their offensive in the north with huge numerical superiority, the LTTE did not have the essential strength to face the onslaught. It was clear that the LTTE would not be able halt the security forces by conventional warfare.
However, somehow Prabakaran failed to use his superior insurgency tactics to overcome his limitations in conventional warfare. Instead, the LTTE adopted a passive defensive strategy with a line of bunds that reduced the natural advantage of guerilla mobility enjoyed by the cadre. The bunds imposed a limited delay as they required heavy firepower to break up the offensive. This was a luxury that the LTTE did not enjoy.
The second aspect was the LTTE leader’s failure to read the mind of Rajapaksa. In his first two years in office, the President had oriented his entire policy framework towards the goal of eliminating the LTTE. His strong support to the operations of the security forces, regardless of national and international compulsions, enabled the Army chief to plan and execute his offensive.
SENA VIDANAGAMA/AFP
Karuna (right) speaking to women LTTE fighters in Batticaloa district on Women’s Day in March 2004. Prabakaran failed to take into account the impact of Karuna’s defection from the LTTE on its overall military capability.
His strategic direction of war, operational planning and neat execution undoubtedly paved the way for success. In the words of Lieutenant General Satish Nambiar, the distinguished Indian Army officer, Fonseka “displayed the qualities of a great military leader nations are blessed with from time to time”. In short, under Fonseka’s leadership, the demoralised armed forces reinvented themselves to become a well-knit and highly motivated force.
As a result, when the security forces went to war in 2006, they were well-trained and enjoyed superiority in firepower and mobility. Learning from the past, they built up force levels on land, in the air and at sea to ensure success against the Tamil Tigers. The Sri Lanka Army went on a recruiting spree. For instance, in the year 2008 alone 40,000 troops were added, to raise 47 infantry battalions, 13 brigades, four task force contingents and two divisions. The Army now has 13 divisions, three task forces and one armoured brigade. Evidently, Prabakaran failed to read the sea change taking place in the capabilities of the security forces and adapt his tactics. Instead, he stuck to a conventional warfare mode that was doomed to fail although it inflicted casualties on the advancing troops.
Fonseka adopted a multi-pronged strategy to split the defending Tamil Tiger ranks and keep them guessing. It aimed at pinning down the LTTE at the forward-defended localities astride the Kandy-Jaffna A-9 road in the north from Kilali-Muhamalai-Nagarkovil and in the south along the Palamoddai-Omanthai line. This prevented the LTTE from thinning out the troops to reinforce its defences along other axes.
Offensives along two broad axes were launched: along the Mannar-Pooneryn/Jaffna A-32 road on the west coast to block LTTE access to Tamil Nadu through the Mannar Sea and along the Welioya-Mullaithivu-Puthukudiyiruppu line on the east coast. Operations on these axes progressively cut off the external supply of military equipment and essential goods to the LTTE by sea. In tandem with ground operations, the Sri Lanka Navy progressively curtailed the freedom of movement of Sea Tiger boats and prevented LTTE shipments from reaching the Sri Lanka coast. In well-planned raids in international waters, the Navy destroyed eight ships of the LTTE’s tramp supply shipping fleet in 2006-07.
Despite faltering steps at times, the security forces maintained the momentum of their offensive in the north from the second half of 2007, which culminated in the dramatic capture in January 2009 of Kilinochchi, the so-called administrative capital of the LTTE. This capture contributed largely to the rapid advance of the security forces in areas east of the A-9 axis, which never gave the withdrawing LTTE a respite or permitted it to deliver a strong counterstroke.
In the present Eelam war, except for a short-lived surprise offensive in the Jaffna peninsula in the early stages of the confrontation in the north, the LTTE was never able to launch proactively a major offensive or a sizable counteroffensive against the security forces that would have turned the course of the war.
The LTTE strategy of carting off all the civilians from captured areas to areas under its control after the fall of Kilinochchi is questionable. This reactive defence strategy affected the mobility of cadre, pinning them down to static defences rather than allowing them to adopt a resilient mobile withdrawal strategy. This strategy neither prevented the security forces from using their heavy weapons or air force nor vindicated the LTTE’s use of civilians as human shields. It only generated adverse publicity, and that the security forces were also blamed for the same callousness in dealing with ordinary people is no consolation as they have emerged as victors.
The performance of the LTTE in Eelam War IV glaringly displayed Prabakaran’s limitations in mastering the art of conventional warfare. As he is an astute military leader, if he survives the current ordeal, he will put on his thinking cap to reinvent the LTTE, just as Fonseka reinvented the security forces when he took on the monumental task of reviving them and leading them to war.•
Colonel R. Hariharan is a retired Military Intelligence specialist on South Asia and served as the head of intelligence of the Indian Peace Keeping Force in Sri Lanka 1987-90.
E-mail: colhari@yahoo.com
- R. HARIHARAN
Its performance in Eelam War IV glaringly displayed Prabakaran’s limitations in mastering the art of conventional warfare.
SRI LANKA’S security forces appear to have redeemed their professional reputation with their resounding success in the fourth edition of the Eelam War, which has been going on since 2006 against the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE), popularly known as the Tamil Tigers. They were not able to achieve decisive results against the LTTE in their three earlier outings.
The United States Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) had rated the Tamil Tigers as “among the most dangerous and deadly extremists in the world”. The FBI said the LTTE’s “ruthless tactics have inspired terrorist networks worldwide, including Al Qaeda in Iraq”. So, the security forces’ success against the LTTE should not be underestimated, particularly when similar wars against insurgents and terrorists in other countries, including Afghanistan, have been dragging on.
The LTTE, over the past 25 years, has built a 15,000-strong force that innovatively adapted its suicide war tactics to both land and naval warfare with deadly results. It mastered the use of terror tactics as a force multiplier. The LTTE’s charismatic and ruthless leader, Velupillai Prabakaran, built a loyal network of cadre – the Black Tigers – whose deadly suicide terror attacks changed the course of political history in Sri Lanka and to a certain extent in India also. Now the insurgents stand reduced to a few hundreds and have lost their entire territory of over 15,000 square kilometres and their equipment, weapons, armament and infrastructure so essential for survival as a viable entity.
The LTTE demonstrated its prowess with a daring suicide attack on Colombo’s Katunayake international airport, destroying 26 military and civil aircraft, in July 2001, just four months before Al Qaeda’s dramatic 9/11 attacks in New York. It sent a strong message to Sri Lanka and the world at large that the LTTE was a formidable force not be trifled with. But the consequences of the 9/11 attack on the global attitude to terrorism was far-reaching. The U.S. marshalled forces for a global war on terror to destroy Al Qaeda and its roots in Islamist terror. And the LTTE was already listed in the U.S. as a foreign terrorist organisation.
The late Anton Balasingham, a close confidant of Prabakaran’s and the political adviser to the LTTE, apparently understood the need to modify the LTTE strategy in the face of the rising tide against terrorism. He persuaded a reluctant Prabakaran to agree to take part in a Norwegian-mediated peace process, deferring the idea of an independent Eelam in favour of finding a solution to accommodate Tamil aspirations within a federal structure. That was how the 2002 peace process came into being.
The LTTE signed the Cease Fire Agreement (CFA) with Sri Lanka in 2002 as part of the peace process from a position of political and military strength, having weathered four wars – three against Sri Lankan security forces and one against Indian forces. It was at the pinnacle of its power at that time. To a certain extent, this enabled the Tamil Tigers to dictate the terms of the peace process, which recognised it as the sole representative of the Tamil minority, a status denied to it earlier. Thus, the peace process accorded parity of status to the LTTE at the negotiating table in its equation with the elected government of Sri Lanka.
By then, the repeated stories of LTTE successes, propagated by its well-oiled propaganda machine that glossed over its significant failures (for example, the retaking of control of Jaffna by the Sri Lanka Army), reinforced the popular belief of Prabakaran’s invincibility in war. It also generated great political expectations among the Tamil population of his ability to satisfy their long-standing aspirations through the peace process although he had dropped the demand for an independent Tamil Eelam. All that has been proved wrong now.
Winston Churchill once remarked, “Those who can win a war well can rarely make a good peace and those who could make a good peace would never have won the war.” This is very true in the case of Prabakaran’s handling of events leading up to the war. His monolithic and egocentric leadership style does not encourage the free exchange of ideas except with his trusted childhood friends. This has been the big roadblock in his strategic decision-making process. Prabakaran failed to use fruitfully the political talent at his disposal, among the seasoned members of the Tamil National Alliance (TNA), in handling complex political issues during the period of peace. Their advice was neither sought nor paid heed to in taking decisions on key issues. The LTTE’s handling of the presidential poll of 2005 is one such instance when their plea for his support to elect Ranil Wickremesinghe, an architect of the peace process, went unheeded.
Wickremesinghe’s rival, Mahinda Rajapaksa, had promised, in his election manifesto, to eliminate LTTE terrorism. Prabakaran not only ignored this but, on the basis of some convoluted reasoning, enforced a boycott of the presidential poll in areas under LTTE control. This action prevented a bulk of the Tamils from voting for Wickremesinghe. This enabled Rajapaksa’s victory with a wafer-thin majority through southern Sinhala votes. And the newly elected President went about systematically dismantling the LTTE.
Similarly, Prabakaran’s handling of the international community lacked coherence. Apparently, he misunderstood the international involvement in the 2002 peace process and thought it was a vindication of the LTTE’s methods. Perhaps this made him complacent when it came to observing the ceasefire in spirit. The LTTE’s conduct, which was in utter disregard of international norms on human rights and humanitarian laws during the entire period of the ceasefire, came under severe criticism from international watchdog bodies and the United Nations. These related to a large number of issues, including the recruitment of child soldiers, illegal arrests and kidnapping apart from the assassinations and suicide bombings. This made the LTTE’s rhetoric on human rights hollow.
While the co-chairs were sympathetic to the Tamil struggle for equity, they were wary of the LTTE’s tactics and covert operations in their own countries. And the LTTE’s indifference to their counsel during the peace process eroded its credibility. Things came to a boil with the assassination of Sri Lankan Foreign Minister Lakshman Kadirgamar in August 2005. This wanton act compelled the European Union and Canada to ban the LTTE. Thus, the LTTE shot itself in the foot as it was banned in 32 countries. The ban also coincided with the introduction of strong international protocols in shipping and against money laundering to prevent the international operations of terrorists.
Prabakaran probably failed to appreciate the implications of these developments when he gave the government a legitimate excuse to abandon the peace process after the LTTE made an abortive suicide attack in April 2006 on Lieutenant General Sarath Fonseka, the Army chief. It also enabled Rajapaksa to persuade the international community to crack down on the LTTE’s support network and front organisations in their midst. International cooperation was further enlarged in scope to intelligence sharing and economic aid, which indirectly underwrote Sri Lanka’s mounting burden of war.
Similarly, Prabakaran never made any effort before the war to redeem the LTTE’s relations with India. He failed to tap the fund of sympathy for the Tamil cause that exists in India even among large sections of the non-Tamil population. Presumably, his dubious role in Rajiv Gandhi’s assassination prevented him from dispassionately examining the positive contribution India could have made in pushing the Tamil cause at the negotiating table. Apparently, he put his faith in the international community rather than in India to bail him out when the Sri Lankan government decided to go to war. This showed a lack of understanding of the complexities of international relations. On the other hand, successive Sri Lankan Presidents went out of their way to keep India in good humour and that helped the country politically and militarily in its war with the LTTE. In Eelam War III (1995-2002), the performance of the Sri Lankan security forces was far from satisfactory. By then, the LTTE had developed the Sea Tiger wing – a daring guerilla navy that played havoc with the Sri Lanka Navy. The Sri Lanka Army had suffered heavy casualties in defending Mullaithivu and suffered a huge setback in Elephant Pass despite its superior strength and firepower. In that operation, the LTTE acquired its modern artillery, armour and high-tech communication systems apart from capturing equipment.
At the start of the peace process, the security forces were a demoralised lot. The terms of the peace process further added to their misery as it prevented them from retaliating when the LTTE’s pistol groups systematically eliminated the forces’ intelligence operatives and killed even military commanders during the first three years of peace. In this backdrop, no one was sure of the ability of Sri Lanka’s forces to sustain an offensive against the LTTE when Eelam War IV started in 2006.
Even after the LTTE defeat in Mavil Aru in the Eastern Province in July 2006, the security forces were cautious in their optimism. However, the LTTE belied the defence analysts’ expectations when it floundered in the Eastern Province, offering stiff resistance only in patches. Perhaps, it was at this time that Rajapaksa and Fonseka made up their minds to go the whole hog against the LTTE in the north.
Although Prabakaran has demonstrated strategic military capability in the past, he appears to have failed to draw two obvious strategic deductions in the developing war scenario, which put the LTTE at a disadvantage. The first was not factoring the impact of the defection of Karuna, his able military commander from Batticaloa, on the LTTE’s overall military capability. The second was in underestimating the determination of Sri Lanka’s political and military leadership to turn Rajapaksa’s promise to eliminate the LTTE into a reality.Prabakaran never made any effort to patch up with Karuna, who had grievances with respect to the poor representation of easterners in the leadership although they provided the bulk of the LTTE cadre. Instead, he dispatched killers to eliminate Karuna. The rebel leader commanded wide support among cadre in the east, particularly around LTTE strongholds in Batticaloa. A direct consequence of his defection was the disbanding of a bulk of LTTE cadre, other than Karuna’s core supporters. It also drove Karuna into the arms of the Sri Lanka Army for protection. So when the war started in the east, the LTTE’s strength as well as its manoeuvring space was reduced.
In the course of time, recruitment from the east to augment LTTE strength petered out. Ultimately, when the security forces launched their offensive in the north with huge numerical superiority, the LTTE did not have the essential strength to face the onslaught. It was clear that the LTTE would not be able halt the security forces by conventional warfare.
However, somehow Prabakaran failed to use his superior insurgency tactics to overcome his limitations in conventional warfare. Instead, the LTTE adopted a passive defensive strategy with a line of bunds that reduced the natural advantage of guerilla mobility enjoyed by the cadre. The bunds imposed a limited delay as they required heavy firepower to break up the offensive. This was a luxury that the LTTE did not enjoy.
The second aspect was the LTTE leader’s failure to read the mind of Rajapaksa. In his first two years in office, the President had oriented his entire policy framework towards the goal of eliminating the LTTE. His strong support to the operations of the security forces, regardless of national and international compulsions, enabled the Army chief to plan and execute his offensive.
SENA VIDANAGAMA/AFP
Karuna (right) speaking to women LTTE fighters in Batticaloa district on Women’s Day in March 2004. Prabakaran failed to take into account the impact of Karuna’s defection from the LTTE on its overall military capability.
His strategic direction of war, operational planning and neat execution undoubtedly paved the way for success. In the words of Lieutenant General Satish Nambiar, the distinguished Indian Army officer, Fonseka “displayed the qualities of a great military leader nations are blessed with from time to time”. In short, under Fonseka’s leadership, the demoralised armed forces reinvented themselves to become a well-knit and highly motivated force.
As a result, when the security forces went to war in 2006, they were well-trained and enjoyed superiority in firepower and mobility. Learning from the past, they built up force levels on land, in the air and at sea to ensure success against the Tamil Tigers. The Sri Lanka Army went on a recruiting spree. For instance, in the year 2008 alone 40,000 troops were added, to raise 47 infantry battalions, 13 brigades, four task force contingents and two divisions. The Army now has 13 divisions, three task forces and one armoured brigade. Evidently, Prabakaran failed to read the sea change taking place in the capabilities of the security forces and adapt his tactics. Instead, he stuck to a conventional warfare mode that was doomed to fail although it inflicted casualties on the advancing troops.
Fonseka adopted a multi-pronged strategy to split the defending Tamil Tiger ranks and keep them guessing. It aimed at pinning down the LTTE at the forward-defended localities astride the Kandy-Jaffna A-9 road in the north from Kilali-Muhamalai-Nagarkovil and in the south along the Palamoddai-Omanthai line. This prevented the LTTE from thinning out the troops to reinforce its defences along other axes.
Offensives along two broad axes were launched: along the Mannar-Pooneryn/Jaffna A-32 road on the west coast to block LTTE access to Tamil Nadu through the Mannar Sea and along the Welioya-Mullaithivu-Puthukudiyiruppu line on the east coast. Operations on these axes progressively cut off the external supply of military equipment and essential goods to the LTTE by sea. In tandem with ground operations, the Sri Lanka Navy progressively curtailed the freedom of movement of Sea Tiger boats and prevented LTTE shipments from reaching the Sri Lanka coast. In well-planned raids in international waters, the Navy destroyed eight ships of the LTTE’s tramp supply shipping fleet in 2006-07.
Despite faltering steps at times, the security forces maintained the momentum of their offensive in the north from the second half of 2007, which culminated in the dramatic capture in January 2009 of Kilinochchi, the so-called administrative capital of the LTTE. This capture contributed largely to the rapid advance of the security forces in areas east of the A-9 axis, which never gave the withdrawing LTTE a respite or permitted it to deliver a strong counterstroke.
In the present Eelam war, except for a short-lived surprise offensive in the Jaffna peninsula in the early stages of the confrontation in the north, the LTTE was never able to launch proactively a major offensive or a sizable counteroffensive against the security forces that would have turned the course of the war.
The LTTE strategy of carting off all the civilians from captured areas to areas under its control after the fall of Kilinochchi is questionable. This reactive defence strategy affected the mobility of cadre, pinning them down to static defences rather than allowing them to adopt a resilient mobile withdrawal strategy. This strategy neither prevented the security forces from using their heavy weapons or air force nor vindicated the LTTE’s use of civilians as human shields. It only generated adverse publicity, and that the security forces were also blamed for the same callousness in dealing with ordinary people is no consolation as they have emerged as victors.
The performance of the LTTE in Eelam War IV glaringly displayed Prabakaran’s limitations in mastering the art of conventional warfare. As he is an astute military leader, if he survives the current ordeal, he will put on his thinking cap to reinvent the LTTE, just as Fonseka reinvented the security forces when he took on the monumental task of reviving them and leading them to war.•
Colonel R. Hariharan is a retired Military Intelligence specialist on South Asia and served as the head of intelligence of the Indian Peace Keeping Force in Sri Lanka 1987-90.
E-mail: colhari@yahoo.com
Friday, April 24, 2009
Srilankan Conflict
The legendry poet Bharathi told "Imayathil oruvan iruminal , kumariyil irunthu oruvan Marunthu kondu sella vendum endru".. In that day itself he had broad vision of helping other people instead of races..
But today our own people are killed by bullets & bombs of srilankan army people.. I remembering Bharathi's lines
"நெஞ்சு பொறுக்குதில்லையே
நெஞ்சு பொறுக்குதில்லையே - இந்த
நிலைகெட்ட மனிதரை நினைந்துவிட்டால்
கொஞ்சமோ பிரிவினைகள் - ஒரு
கோடியென் றாலது பெரிதாமோ ?
அஞ்சுதலைப் பாம்பென்பான் - அப்பன்
ஆறுதலை யென்றுமகன் சொல்லிவிட்டால்
நெஞ்சு பிரிந்து விடுவார் - பின்பு
நெடுநா ளிருவரும் பகைத்திருப்பார் (நெஞ்சு)சாத்திரங்க ளொன்றும் காணார் - பொய்ச்
சாத்திரப் பேய்கள்சொலும் வார்த்தைநம்பியே
கோத்திரமொன் யிருந்தாலும் - ஒரு
கொள்கையிற் பிரிந்தவனைக் குலைத்திகழ்வார்
தோத்திரங்கள் சொல்லியவர்தாம் - தமைச்
சூதுசெயு நீசர்களைப் பணிந்திடுவார் - ஆனால்
ஆத்திரங் கொண்டே யிவன் சைவன் - இவன்
அரிபக்த னென்றுபெருஞ் சண்டையிடுவார் (நெஞ்சு) எண்ணிலா நோயுடையார் - இவர்
எழுந்து நடப்பதற்கும் வலிமையிலார்
கண்ணிலாக் குழந்தைகள்போல் - பிறர்
காட்டிய வழியிற் சென்று மாட்டிக் கொள்வார்
நண்ணிய பெருங்கலைகள் - பத்து
நாலாயிரங் கோடி நயந்து நின்ற
புண்ணிய நாட்டினிலே - இவர்
பொறியற்ற விலங்குகள் போல வாழ்வார் (நெஞ்சு) "
We are silent watchers of this mass genocide.. This political people are playing the game for their own benefits.. Is this cowardice gene we inherited from our ancient Tamils? Where are we? When we are going to unite for our cause?
Andru "Mullaiukku ther kudutha.. " Pari vallal indru irunthirunthal.. em makkaluku oru nal vazhvai kuduthirupan..
Ippothu Nadalbavarkalo "spectrum oozhal, black money.. swiz bank.. Posts for family members" endru busy'aga ullanar.
Tamil mannan Cholanin kodi parantha rajiyathil.. indru Tamilanin kuruthi neethikaagavum.. uravukaagavum.. yengi kondirikirathu..
What kind of justice we can tell to our died brothers & sisters as a silent watchers? Atleast we will unite here after & give our shoulders for surviving people..
" Vallamai tharayo parasakthi .. "
But today our own people are killed by bullets & bombs of srilankan army people.. I remembering Bharathi's lines
"நெஞ்சு பொறுக்குதில்லையே
நெஞ்சு பொறுக்குதில்லையே - இந்த
நிலைகெட்ட மனிதரை நினைந்துவிட்டால்
கொஞ்சமோ பிரிவினைகள் - ஒரு
கோடியென் றாலது பெரிதாமோ ?
அஞ்சுதலைப் பாம்பென்பான் - அப்பன்
ஆறுதலை யென்றுமகன் சொல்லிவிட்டால்
நெஞ்சு பிரிந்து விடுவார் - பின்பு
நெடுநா ளிருவரும் பகைத்திருப்பார் (நெஞ்சு)சாத்திரங்க ளொன்றும் காணார் - பொய்ச்
சாத்திரப் பேய்கள்சொலும் வார்த்தைநம்பியே
கோத்திரமொன் யிருந்தாலும் - ஒரு
கொள்கையிற் பிரிந்தவனைக் குலைத்திகழ்வார்
தோத்திரங்கள் சொல்லியவர்தாம் - தமைச்
சூதுசெயு நீசர்களைப் பணிந்திடுவார் - ஆனால்
ஆத்திரங் கொண்டே யிவன் சைவன் - இவன்
அரிபக்த னென்றுபெருஞ் சண்டையிடுவார் (நெஞ்சு) எண்ணிலா நோயுடையார் - இவர்
எழுந்து நடப்பதற்கும் வலிமையிலார்
கண்ணிலாக் குழந்தைகள்போல் - பிறர்
காட்டிய வழியிற் சென்று மாட்டிக் கொள்வார்
நண்ணிய பெருங்கலைகள் - பத்து
நாலாயிரங் கோடி நயந்து நின்ற
புண்ணிய நாட்டினிலே - இவர்
பொறியற்ற விலங்குகள் போல வாழ்வார் (நெஞ்சு) "
We are silent watchers of this mass genocide.. This political people are playing the game for their own benefits.. Is this cowardice gene we inherited from our ancient Tamils? Where are we? When we are going to unite for our cause?
Andru "Mullaiukku ther kudutha.. " Pari vallal indru irunthirunthal.. em makkaluku oru nal vazhvai kuduthirupan..
Ippothu Nadalbavarkalo "spectrum oozhal, black money.. swiz bank.. Posts for family members" endru busy'aga ullanar.
Tamil mannan Cholanin kodi parantha rajiyathil.. indru Tamilanin kuruthi neethikaagavum.. uravukaagavum.. yengi kondirikirathu..
What kind of justice we can tell to our died brothers & sisters as a silent watchers? Atleast we will unite here after & give our shoulders for surviving people..
" Vallamai tharayo parasakthi .. "
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