8  Tribulations in Vanni

The LTTE’s strategic withdrawal to the Vanni, in military terms, was a shrewd move by Mr. Pirabakaran. Having secured and consolidated a huge base area in the heart of Northern Sri Lanka shielded by thick, impenetrable jungles, Mr.Pirabakaran embarked on a massive programme to re-organise and re-structure the LTTE’s military machine. As a sharp strategist he knew that he had to defend his jungle territory and to fight his future battles in the Vanni region. He was fully aware of the military ambitions of the Colombo leadership. Anticipating possible military invasions from the Sinhala army, he prepared to build a powerful liberation army capable of fighting both conventional and jungle guerrilla war. He launched a huge recruitment and training project aimed at strengthening the manpower and the combat capability of the LTTE forces. Once the project was completed, he planned to launch an offensive operation on a major Sri Lankan military base in the Vanni. This was planned to be undertaken in the early part of July 1996.

We knew that a lot of preparations were being made for an offensive assault. We also knew that Mr. Pirabakaran was spending sleepless nights with his senior military commanders discussing a plan for the operation. It was only at the last moment we learnt which military base it was. Studying the Sri Lankan military positions, Bala speculated correctly - that the attack could be against the Mullaitivu base. Although Bala was close to Mr. Pirabakaran, he always avoided enquiring about military plans. Once the operation was launched or a military event or an assault took place, Mr. Pirabakaran was the first to visit Bala with facts and figures to inform him of the details of the operation for the preparation of press releases for the local as well as the international media.

On 18th July 1996, the LTTE launched a massive military assault, code-named ‘Unceasing Waves’ on the Mullaitivu military base. It was a huge military complex, incorporating the old Mullaitivu town and encompassing an area of 2900 meters long and 1500 metres wide. Situated along the coastal belt, the base complex functioned as the command structure and administrative centre for the Mullaitivu district. Well-trained and heavily armed units of the LTTE attacked the base complex from land and sea and breached the defence perimeter after several hours of heavy fighting. Thereafter, the LTTE fighters overran several mini-camps, artillery and mortar bases and finally captured the central command buildings. Within twenty-four hours, the entire base complex fell to the LTTE. The hurriedly dispatched Sri Lankan reinforcements which opened a beach-head about five kilometres south of Mullaitivu were eventually surrounded by LTTE fighters and forced to retreat with heavy casualties. The Tigers also foiled several attempts to land reinforcements along Mullaitivu beach. The fighting lasted till 26th July when the Sri Lankan army finally withdrew the last of its shattered reinforcements. One thousand three hundred Sri Lankan troops were killed in one of the worst military disasters suffered by the Sinhala army. The LTTE captured a huge haul of arms worth millions of dollars, including 122-mm artillery pieces and 120mm heavy mortars with thousands of shells. It was a remarkable military victory for the LTTE. Three hundred and thirty two LTTE fighters were lost.

On the final day of the battle (26th July) when the LTTE fighters were involved in clearing up the base complex and removing the arms and ammunition, Sri Lankan troops launched a lightning attack, code-named ‘Sath Jeya’, on Paranthan from their Elephant Pass base and captured the town. It was a diversionary attempt by the army to distract the Sinhala people who were shocked and shattered by the humiliating military debacle suffered at Mullaitivu with its unprecedented casualty figures. Having captured Paranthan town, Sri Lankan troops launched phase two of ‘Operation Sath Jeya’ on 4th August 1996, to capture Killinochchi town. The stiff resistance by the LTTE fighters thwarted the strategic objectives of the Sinhala troops. Only a part of the town fell to the army. The fighting continued for days. In retaliation for the huge losses suffered at Mullaitivu, the Sri Lankan armed forces opened up heavy artillery barrages and aerial bombardment, destroying the Killinochchi town and its surroundings.

During these heavy clashes in the Killinochchi sector, we were living in Ramanathapuram, an ancient, traditional village about ten kilometres from the Killinochchi town. Approximately two kilometres north of our residence, in a patch of jungle, was an LTTE training camp, which was regularly subjected to artillery and aerial assaults. Now we were back in the danger zone of a conflict area and heard the deafening sounds of war once again.

There were many nights when falling artillery shells shook our house and we were foolhardy not to take cover in the bunker. But the possibility of being bitten by one of the many poisonous snakes or scorpions that inhabited the bunker, was as real that of being blown apart by artillery shells. Our bodyguards regularly checked our deep, sandy bunker covered with palmyrah tree trunks and sandbags. One day, to our dismay, they found a big cobra skin hanging from the inside of the roof of the bunker. They were certain that somewhere in the dark spaces between the tree trunks within the roof, a cobra had made its home and probably started a family. For us, the thought of slow death from the bite of an angry cobra seemed less appealing than being blown apart in peaceful sleep. We chose the later option and left it to luck.

Apart from the shelling and bombing in the vicinity of our house, our stay in Ramanathapuram was one of our most pleasant times in the Vanni. Huge margosa trees and coconut plantations surrounded our charming house. In the front compound, every species of mango tree produced bumper harvests after our arrival. The trees made the house cool in the tropical Vanni climate and comfortable to live in. Our few neighbours were traditional Vanni people from a variety of castes who supported the struggle in one way or another. But while living in Ramanathapuram had its plus points, there was a major downside also. The last village before the Vanni jungle, we were isolated from densely populated areas and the main LTTE offices and camps. The fuel shortage and the long distance to travel to our place meant that visitors were few and far between. So, when the offensive to capture Killinochchi loomed on the horizon, we were advised to move to a different area closer to the other cadres. We moved from Ramanathapuram to live in the historical town of Kachchilaimadu, a few miles from Oddusudan in Mullaitivu, where the memorial to the last Tamil King, Pandara Vannian still stands. The British hanged him for his resistance to colonialism.

Living in Vanni

The Vanni region of Northern Sri Lanka is a dry zone with little rainfall. The ancient Tamil kings of the Vanni kingdom developed an advanced hydraulic agricultural system by constructing hundreds of irrigation tanks in the region. In those ancient days, the Vanni farmers told me, the food production flourished and the surplus was sent to Jaffna, as well as to the Sinhala South. Foreign colonialism put an end to the hydraulic mode of agriculture, which encouraged a communal system of production and distribution. The Sinhala state that assumed power after the independence of the island deliberately alienated and isolated the Vanni region from any economic development projects. As a consequence, Vanni became increasingly underdeveloped and the network of tanks and canals built over the centuries and maintained by the kings, collapsed and disintegrated from lack of use. Several tanks disappeared as their embankments were washed away by occasional floods. With the collapse of the irrigation system, the life of the farming community in Vanni became difficult. The economic embargo imposed by the Sri Lanka state has created a different set of problems for the middle landowners.

Many farmers in Vanni live within the confines of a household economy. They have coconut trees, banana trees, chickens, goats, cows, mango trees, rice from their paddy cultivation and vegetables from their gardens. These household facilities furnish them with a better chance of survival. But the fuel shortage for tractors and water pumps and the ban on fertilisers threatened not only their survival but that of other social groups in Vanni. To overcome the ban on fuel for tractors to plough their fields, many farmers returned to the days of using bullocks for ploughing, in preparation for planting paddy. Unfortunately, while the absence of tractors placed an added burden of the farmers’ labour, the ban on fertiliser meant that the crops would produce a poor yield. Furthermore, paddy crops could not be sold in either Jaffna or Colombo and often spoiled in storage. Storage problems, high cost of production and poor markets discouraged the farmers from producing more crops than was necessary, potentially adding to the shortage of food and an increase in the food prices. Many of the farmers had similar problems with the production of, for example, tobacco. Tobacco crops could not be exported to the south of the island and rotted in storage preventing the farmers from recovering their costs and creating a cash crisis for their daily living and repayment of debts. In addition to their harsh economic existence, the war that escalated into the Vanni created hitherto unknown problems of internal displacement. The invasion of Killinochchi followed by the lengthy ‘Operation Jayasukuru’ by the Sinhalese army to capture the A9 highway that runs through the heart of Vanni, created thousands more internally displaced people. Farmers had to seek refuge in schools, temples and camps, abandoning their houses, lands, cattle and the agricultural way of life.

When we were living in the Vanni during the middle to late nineties, we encountered three sets of populations: the local indigenous population, the displaced from Jaffna and the internally displaced Vanni people. (We learned later that almost all the internally displaced people of Vanni had returned to their lands and resumed normal lives following the liberation of Vanni areas by the LTTE during ‘Unceasing Waves 3’ in late 1999). The displaced Jaffna population was faced with a totally different set of problems. Having come to the Vanni with only a couple of bags of clothing, they had no housing and no work. Housing and employment opportunities were critical problems. In otherwords, they were compelled to start life from scratch again. Tracts of land were identified and cleared and attempts were made by the various departments of the LTTE to settle the people in colonisation schemes throughout the Vanni. Many people, asserting their independence and from personal pride, opted to find their own way. With financial assistance from abroad, they made their own arrangements, built small huts and struggled to find employment that would provide an income for them to feed their families. The poor and those without relatives abroad from whom they could seek financial help, had no option but to remain behind in the unsatisfactory and deprived environment of refugee camps, dependent on NGOs and the LTTE for assistance to survive. But many of these people, penniless and homeless and in despair, simply pitched a thick plastic sheet - given to them by the ICRC under a tree. There were many occasions when we passed by these people standing by their tents, shivering and cold and drenched to the skin as the rain poured down on them and the water turned their surroundings into a thick muddy pool. The same tragic sight swept throughout the Vanni during the malaria epidemic in 1996 and 1997. In every nook and corner, and out in the streets, sick people with nowhere to go and without medicine as a consequence of the economic embargo, shivered in the early stages of malaria. Everywhere we turned, thin, poorly nourished people moved slowly along the roads with a towel or thin bed sheet draped over their frames for warmth from the chill which preceded the fever’s peak. Mothers with sick children waited at bus stops for hours in the rain or burning heat to take their children to the hospital. Columns of people could be seen stretching into the distance heading for different destinations, having found walking quicker than waiting for the bus.

Although many people took their own initiatives to find work, unemployment persisted as a major problem and the consequent financial hardship undermined the personal integrity and independence of the Jaffna people as they sank into extreme difficulties. The high cost of living and the economic embargo necessitated constraints on the spending of money on food in a great number of families. Reports of starvation in some homes filtered through and the LTTE’s rehabilitation organisations acted to provide relief to these desperate families. Malnutrition was obvious by the potbellies, skinny legs, faded black hair and poor growth in many children throughout the Vanni. The shortage of medicines for the treatment of common illness as malaria, typhoid fever, and paracetemol for viral fevers added to the misery of the people and exposed them to life threatening illness.

The day to day struggle to survive made life an utter misery for thousands of the displaced. Sections of these people were compelled to go to Vavuniya seeking new pastures. But most of these people were rounded up by the Sri Lankan army and police and dumped into various refugee camps in Vavuniya. Deprived of the freedom of movement, these Tamil refugees continue to live in the open prisons. Those who were bold enough to take a perilous journey to Jaffna or to South India had also ended up in refugee camps there.

The LTTE backed local rehabilitation organisations had been striving to meet the needs of the displaced with limited funds and resources. The Kumaratunga Government was merciless. Apart from the stringent economic embargo on food and medicine, the Government cut down on relief assistance also, forcing the displaced population to embark on anti-government demonstrations and protests: but to no avail. The Government’s constraints prevented international NGOs operating in Vanni from providing adequate assistance. Allegations of collaboration were made and the people complained that the NGOs failed in their mandate to bring this humanitarian tragedy to the notice of the world. The Sri Lankan government viewed the displaced people as LTTE supporters and sympathisers and subjected them to calculated collective punishment. In view of the extreme hardships faced by the displaced population, the LTTE has been seeking, during the Norwegian peace initiative which began in early 2000, the withdrawal of the blockade on food, medicine and other essential items vital for the civilians, as a necessary pre-requisite for talks. The Kumaratunga government has shown scant concern over restoring normal civilian life to Vanni.

Apart from the indigenous farmers and the displaced population, there is a large fishing community inhabiting the coastal regions of Mullaitivu and Mannar. A section of these fisherfolk were originally refugees from Trincomalee who had settled with the locals in the Vanni in coastal villages. The ban on fuel also severely disrupted the livelihood of the fishing community of the Vanni and plunged them into abject poverty. Without fuel supplies for trawler fishing in the deep sea, the industry was virtually wiped out. Unemployed and without produce to sell on the market, the fisherfolk had no source of income and struggled to survive on coastal- water fishing. The Sri Lankan Navy has killed hundreds of Tamil fishermen when they ventured into the seas. Adding to their distress and misery, was the destruction of their huts and boats during regular aerial attacks along the coastal areas.

‘Operation Jayasukuru’

On 13th May 1997, the Sri Lankan army’s infamous ‘Operation Jayasukuru’ (Victory Assured) was launched in Vanni. It was one of the most ambitious military efforts ever undertaken by the Sri Lankan military establishment. Planned for four months but spanning a period of nearly two years it also turned out to be one of the longest battles fought in South Asia. It finally ended in the gravest and most humiliating military debacle in Sri Lanka’s military history. ‘Operation Jayasukiru’ opened two fronts in the heartland of Vanni. One in the Nochimoddai-Omanthai area along the A9 Kandy-Jaffna highway and the other in the Kent-Dollar farm area along Nedunkerni. The strategic objective of the operation was to capture the eighty kilometre long highway that runs through the centre of Vanni, from Vavuniya to Killinochchi. The agenda was to bifurcate Vanni into two regions and to systematically destroy all the major military bases of the LTTE, including Mr. Pirabakaran’s, that were situated, according to Sri Lankan military intelligence, in the central region of Vanni. As the operation proceeded, thousands of Sri Lankan troops backed by artillery, tanks and air support made major thrusts in the two strategic locations. The LTTE forces, which now assumed the characteristics of a conventional military, clashed with the invaders and heavy fighting broke out. As the army advanced towards Nedunkerni, artillery shells were falling in the vicinity of Katchilaimadu, compelling us to move into a house at Puthukuddiruppu, Mullaitivu.

From our house in Puthukuddiruppu the sound of heavy shelling during the exchanges of fire was a daily occurrence, as were the Air Force sorties that indiscriminately struck refugee camps and civilian areas causing heavy loss of life. So familiar were we with the sound of shelling we were able to distinguish between the various heavy artillery, the different size mortars and tank fire and the location of the fighting from the distant noise.

We knew that ‘Operation Jayasukuru’ was going to be a long drawn out battle since Mr. Pirabakaran was determined to resist the invading Sinhala army with all the military force he could assemble. Thousands of battle-hardened fighters from Batticaloa under the command of Col. Karuna were also inducted into the Vanni confrontation. But amidst the conditions of war that continued for days and months, we, as well as the people of Puthukuddiruppu, lived our lives as normally as possible. Visitors to our house often took cover along with us in the bunker, during air raids. After the attack, we surfaced again and continued our conversation and waited for news of where the bombing had taken place and the damage it had caused.

Puthukuddiruppu is a small town but with the largest population in Mullaitivu. Its name literally translates into ‘new settlement’. And so it was for many people, including us. The town, surrounded by several traditional villages, constitutes a mixture of people: farmers, fishermen and the smaller castes in between, Catholics and Hindus, residents and displaced people. People from Batticaloa, Trincomalee, Kokilai and Kokkuthoduvai moved North along the Eastern coast and found refuge in Puthukuddiruppu after being displaced during military operations by the Sri Lankan military forces, and as a consequence of racial riots or by forced Sinhala colonisation. When we went to settle in this village we found a large population of displaced Jaffna Tamils also. Our neighbours to one side living amidst the many coconut plantations, was a very poor displaced extended family from Kokilai near Nayaaru. Military operations and atrocities by the Sri Lankan military forces had compelled this family to abandon their homes in search of safety and they found a piece of land to live on in Puthukuddiruppu. Through hard work in menial tasks, the men in the family earned enough money for their destitute families to build three small thatched huts for themselves and their children and there they eked out a day to day existence. The delightful, skinny little children often brought joy to my life when their cheerful voices called through the fence “Auntie, Auntie”. “What is it,” I would call back. “Can we have some eggs from your chickens. We have a broody chicken and want to put the eggs for her to hatch,” they asked with such urgency it seemed their whole lives were hinging on me giving them the eggs. My different varieties of chickens had wandered into their homes and fascinated, they wanted some for themselves. They were thrilled when I gave all the fresh eggs to them. A month later they proudly announced how many chickens had successfully hatched- and asked for more eggs. The breeding of chickens added to the family income and improved their diet.

At the back of our house, on a barren piece of land, was another displaced family from Jaffna. These people had pawned their family jewellery and possessions to build a small cottage. The parents and their teenage children struggled to maintain their dignity and live a decent life. A typical proud Jaffna family, they remained private, revealing their utter poverty to only a few close friends. The mother and daughter worked quietly, gathering wood for cooking and preparing simple food within their skimpy budget. With typical Tamil generosity, this lady and her daughter regularly sent me sweet rice and bananas or ‘treats’. The family were strong LTTE supporters. One son and a daughter had joined the LTTE and another daughter, in her early twenties, had become a member of the Black Tiger unit. The pleadings of the mother melted the determination of the son and he left the organisation and returned to the family, but the two daughters remained LTTE members. Ultimately the poverty compelled this family to seek greener pastures abroad and they left to start a new life in India leaving their cute, white Pomeranian dog in my care.

Our other neighbours were members of one of the oldest, original Puthukuddiruppu families. Although constituted by a diverse population, two or three families predominated in the Puthukuddiruppu social structure. These extended Vellala caste families were essentially property owners. Practising Hindus, they intermarried according to the Tamil rules of endogamy and exogamy. Observing the practices and beliefs of the ancient Tamils, these people’s daily lives centred on the temple and religious functions. Nevertheless, the people allowed me into their lives and often asked me to attend their social functions. The lady of the house regularly cooked for the many religious festivals at the nearby temple. Invariably, her ten-year-old son would appear at my kitchen door with a small dish of food his mother had sent over to me. Her husband gave Bala sacks of peanuts for him to feed the dozens of squirrels that played happily around his office and our two peacocks, Siva and Sathi. This family was closely related to Mr Pararajasingham (Para as we call him) the head of the LTTE judiciary and a close family friend of ours, who lived nearby.

Our house in Puthukuddiruppu, situated in the midst of a four- acre coconut and cashew plantation had a special atmosphere. It was a sanctuary to a myriad of pets and animals, birds and reptiles also. Nothing except perhaps the stray cobra was allowed to be harmed or killed within the confines of our house and most of the animals eventually seemed to be aware of that. Squirrels abounded and peacocks strolled leisurely, stray dogs often visited hoping for something to eat and cats came and went. Birds built their nests and hatched their young in absolute security. The banana trees we planted thrived on the water that ran off during bathing and washing of clothes at the well. A circular thatched cottage under a huge mango tree and bordered by coconut trees was built as an office for Bala and it was here, in this friendly, peaceful environment we received most of our visitors. Our house was the centre for a multitude of social relationships. Because our security system was less rigid cadres from various sections of the LTTE and the public visited for diverse reasons and with many problems. Indeed, most cadres and the public knew that Bala formed a bridge between themselves and Mr. Pirabakaran. Bala patiently listened to special requests and concerns and many problems. If solving the problem was beyond his authority, the issue would be taken up and solutions found in discussions with Mr. Pirabakaran. Secrets and intrigues were revealed, ambitions and frustrations were often expressed and advice was much sought after; there was plenty of laughter and tears were few in our house.

Pirabakaran in My View

Mr. Pirabakaran was a frequent visitor to our house; in both an official and personal capacity. He would come alone with his bodyguards and on other occasions with his family. By mid 1998 we had known and lived with the legendary leader of the Tamil liberation struggle Vellupillai Pirabakaran for twenty years. During those years of personal and political relationship we have been deeply involved in experiences with him that led to an understanding and insight into one of the most complex and commanding personalities determining the politics of Sri Lanka. Those twenty years of relationship embraced an epoch in the struggle during which we walked through many good times together and traversed and triumphed over periods of adversity in both his political and personal life. Over this span of time we had seen the ideals of freedom of a young militant progressively transforming into a concrete reality. Parallel to the march towards the liberation of his people, Mr. Pirabakaran has emerged as a living symbol of national freedom and has grown in adoration to become a venerated figure amongst his oppressed people.

Security concerns have compelled Mr. Pirabakaran to adopt what many have mistakenly labelled a ‘reclusive’ life style. His secluded existence under conditions of continued war and his inaccessibility to the media have made him the most misunderstood and feared guerrilla leader of our times. He has, of course, become most successful and popular in his spectacular military campaign. His military ability has often perplexed the many professional military minds in the world. So what is it that has earned this short, stocky, neat man so much love from his people on the one hand, and notoriety from the world on the other? How do we account for the contradiction in his people’s perception of him, and the vilification by the world?

Mr. Pirabakaran, born in the coastal village of Valvettiturai on 26th November 1954 was a sixteen-year-old teenager when he took up arms and became involved in the political struggle of his people. He was, in other words, a ‘child soldier’ if we use the language of today. From those early days he has never lived a ‘normal’ life. As his commitment deepened, he mobilised and organised a group of radical youth who shared his views into an underground guerrilla organisation and launched an armed resistance campaign. His daring guerrilla attacks brought him to the attention of the state authorities and he became a ‘wanted’ man living an underground life in Jaffna. His bold armed challenge to the might of the Sinhala state earned Mr. Pirabakaran a noble reputation and he became a heroic figure amongst his people. The shrewdness and intelligence he successfully deployed in challenging the state was viewed by the people as their triumph and an assertion of their pride and identity. Mr. Pirabakaran’s sustained and successful armed resistance against mounting state oppression has earned him the mantle of national leader of the Tamil people’s struggle for freedom and independence. This noble objective fuels his passion and dominates his spirit. The struggle has become his life and he has become the struggle.

Although Mr. Pirabakaran would never make any pretensions to being a theorist or an ideologue, his politics place him squarely in the camp of a patriotic nationalist. Mr. Pirabakaran’s nationalism is not a manifestation of Tamil chauvinism or racism, as many Sinhala critics would like to argue. His national sentiment arose from a determination to resist Sinhala racist oppression that aims at the destruction of his people. In other words, the racism of the Sinhala state made him a fierce patriot, a passionate lover of his oppressed nation. His deep love for his people, their culture and more specifically - their language, fuels his dedication and determination to secure their survival. For him, uncluttered by abstract concepts and theories, the problem confronting the Tamil people is clear-cut and simple and the struggle for freedom is just. His psyche is deeply rooted in the soil of his motherland, the Northeast, which he always refers to as Tamil Eelam. He has an unshakeable view that his people have a right to live in peace, dignity and harmony in their historic homeland. His perception of Tamil Eelam is neither secessionist nor expansionist. For him, Tamil Eelam belongs to the Tamils and they have the sovereign right over their territory. Indeed, he has neither demonstrated nor articulated any aspiration to annex traditional Sinhala territory nor does he dream of an expansionist greater Eelam as projected by some Indian critics.

Mr. Pirabakaran has always maintained individuality and creativity in fashioning the mode of the armed struggle of the Tamil people. Though he was familiar with the history of the national liberation struggles and freedom moments of the other countries of the world, he did not embrace or capitulate to any established models or theories of liberation warfare. For him, methods of struggle should evolve from the objective conditions unique to each struggle. He devised his own methodology of warfare suited to the necessities and conditions of the struggle of his people. Some of his methods and tactics of warfare have earned him severe condemnation, particularly among the Sinhala political and military analysts. Yet he has defended his ‘ruthless’ tactics as a necessary means to protect his weak and small nation of people against a strong, powerful and ruthless enemy.

Mr. Pirabakaran is an activist. He believes human action is the propelling force of history. His commitment to action rather than abstract theoretical analysis of problems has been the crucial mobilising force in the growth and development of the organisation he founded. Disillusioned by the vacuous words of mainstream Tamil politicians, many young people admired Mr. Pirabakaran for his disdain for the duplicity of their politics and his active politico- military campaign to achieve his objectives. And to a large extent and against even greater odds, Mr. Pirabakaran has been successful in creating a Tamil national army capable of resisting Sinhala state oppression. And while at this stage of the struggle - he has not achieved his ultimate political objective, if it were not for the brilliant planning and execution of the armed campaign conducted by Mr. Pirabakaran, the organisation he has built up over the last twenty five years the LTTE and the Tamil people as an identifiable national formation would have been wiped out of the island many years ago. This I concluded from my lived experience with the struggle, and it is the widely held view amongst the Tamil people. But while Mr. Pirabakaran prioritised the necessity of armed struggle to achieve political goals, Bala’s intervention enhanced the political dimension of the armed struggle. The relationship between these two single-minded individuals has been unique. It is one of those relationships where two different personalities come together at a specific conjuncture and play significant roles in the movement of history.

Bala has always viewed his role with the LTTE and the struggle as the advisor and theoretician to Mr. Pirabakaran and the organisation. Bala’s lack of concern for power, his preparedness to restrain his role to writing, teaching and advising, and his obvious commitment to the struggle, eventually made Bala the most reliable and trustworthy advisor to Mr. Pirabakaran. One quality that Mr. Pirabakaran has admired and valued in Bala all these years, is his commitment to truth. Bala has always acted on the principle that he should convey accurate and truthful advice in the best interests of both Mr. Pirabakaran and the struggle. Whether Mr. Pirabakaran has always heeded the advice or was displeased by what he frankly conveyed, was not Bala’s concern. As the advisor to Mr. Pirabakaran, Bala has many times told me, it was his duty to tell the truth, regardless of how unpalatable it may be.

And it was at the personal level one can gain more insight into Mr. Pirabakaran. Contrary to the perception widely projected abroad, Mr. Pirabakaran is a warm and sociable person. In fact if there was one word to sum up Mr. Pirabakaran in the social and personal context, it would be ‘gregarious’. Mr. Pirabakaran loves to converse. He is interested in many issues and holds strong views. On some views I do differ. One of his favourite interests is science and he encourages the cadres to learn new technologies and scientific knowledge. Another interest of Mr. Pirabakaran is Tamil culture. He has encouraged cultural expression in many forms in the organisation and society. Indeed cultural programmes constitute an important part of training camp life and most cadres are expected to participate and contribute at one level or another. The development of Tamil liberation literature and arts has always enjoyed the wholehearted support of Mr. Pirabakaran. But most of all, Mr. Pirabakaran is a connoisseur of good food. He himself has always shown a special interest in cooking different foods, and over the years he has developed a discerning taste. He views cooking as an art and eating a basic pleasure in life. He has often found it difficult to understand how my interest in food can be limited to fresh vegetables. Nevertheless, he has always been considerate enough to prepare food to my taste whenever I have visited his family for a meal. Without fail, before his departure from our house, he would enquire about our diet. He regularly relieved me of the burden of cooking by sending Bala food from his kitchen and when he cooked for functions for his cadres. For me, a vegetarian, he thought hard before deciding on a tasty dish he could prepare for me. Not infrequently, he had his cooks prepare a special vegetarian dish and sent it over to our house along with Bala’s food.

Clearly Mr. Pirabakaran’s has an extraordinary interest in military matters. But it is not the simple things of uniforms and weapons and technology of war which attracts this man to a military lifestyle. It is, in my perception of him, certain military principles that Mr. Pirabakaran values as central to decent living also. These principles form part of his wider social philosophy. The most important of these being discipline. Discipline, in Mr.Pirabakaran’s perspective, is a central concept in life. It governs his role as leader of a politico-military structure, his personal life and his view of society.

In his personal life Mr. Pirabakaran is disciplined in all dimensions. There has never been, from the outset of his days in struggle, a whisper of impropriety or scandal surrounding him. He has never smoked or taken alcohol and prefers if other people don’t. The only person in the organisation whom he tolerated smoking was Bala, and that was in deference to his age and the personal respect he held for him. On visits to our house he often teased Bala about his unhealthy habit. He also showed his repulsion for the smell of cigarette smoke and Bala avoided smoking in front of him.

Courage in human beings is, for Pirabakaran, an admirable trait. He admires and respects manifestations of bravery, not only in his cadres, but people in general. Courage is inextricably linked to a positive and certainly inspiring feature of his character, which is that of not being subdued or deterred by anything in life, no matter how formidable and powerful it maybe. He has an indomitable will and confidence that anything can be achieved if the mind is applied and focused on the project. It is not insignificance that one of his favourite sayings is ‘Who dares wins’. I inquired from Bala as to what he viewed as the quality he admired most in Mr. Pirabakaran. The unique characteristic that Bala appreciated in Pirabakaran’s personality was his supreme self-confidence in times of adversity. Pirabakaran has always displayed, Bala observed, a firm, resolute and unflagging confidence in pursuit of the cause of his people. Pirabakaran believes in ‘Dharma’ the law of righteousness. His inner determination and confidence arise from the belief that the cause of his people is right, fair and just and therefore will eventually succeed, Bala explained.

But apart from being a political figure and a friend to many, Mr. Pirabakaran is also a family man. ‘On duty’ twenty-four hours of the day, every day of his life, he has had to balance his responsibilities between the struggle with his obligations as a husband and father. Arguably, his wife Mathy has made the greatest sacrifice and has not enjoyed the companionship of her husband on the level she would have preferred. Mathy’s constant care of the children obviously places her in a position to have greater influence over them. But the Pirabakaran family could never be classified as ‘normal’. Being the wife and children of Mr. Pirabakaran locates them in a unique social position and determines their lifestyle and relationships. Uppermost in both Mr. Pirabakaran and Mathy’s mind is the security and future of their children. Hence, both Mathy and Mr. Pirabakaran, as is consistent with Jaffna parental thinking and aspirations, encourage the children in their educational pursuits. Mathy in particular has spent many hours privately tutoring her children at home and she fosters in them a healthy passion for knowledge. But his family is lifeblood to Mr. Pirabakaran. On many occasions when he is ‘off’ duty he visits our house with Mathy and their three children, Charles, born in 1985, Towaraha one year younger, and Balachandran, who was an unexpected addition to the family in 1996. I had no idea when I helped Mathy deliver her first son that he would grow to resemble Mr. Pirabakaran not only in looks, but in characteristics also. Towaraha, the only girl, is more serious and studies well. The last child, although with Mr. Pirabakaran’s features and obviously a favourite in the family, had not grown sufficiently when I left the Vanni for me to comment on his personality.

LTTE Weddings

We often met Mr. Pirabakaran and Mathy at the many social functions held by the various sections within the organisation and at weddings. In fact some our of happiest days were spent at these functions since they afforded us the opportunity for reunions with cadres and commanders we might not have seen for many months. Weddings were particularly frequent as the senior cadres - men and women - fell in love and wanted to marry. The LTTE weddings are functions with a progressive content combining the positive elements in Tamil culture and disavowing the more reactionary aspects. For example, LTTE wedding ceremonies are simple, amounting to the pledging of wedding vows and the signing of a register and without religious rituals. Nevertheless, the bride wears the traditional ‘koorai’ or red wedding sari, and the bridegroom wears the white verti and shirt. The ‘thali’, the symbol of marriage for women in Tamil culture, is tied around the neck of the bride by the bridegroom, but a few changes have been introduced. The traditional gold chain from which the ‘thali’ normally hangs has been replaced by a simple yellow thread, and the actual ‘thali’ is a square piece of gold with the symbols of Tamil culture carved into it, replacing the traditional religious insignia. The break with the traditional flamboyant and expensive weddings was seen as a breath of fresh air.

The entourage of female cadres who attended to assist and support the bride were usually led on these occasions by Vidusa, the most senior women’s military commander. Less assertive in the social world than on the battlefield, Vidusa’s broad smile always indicated her pleasure at seeing the young female fighters under her command, getting married. Vidusa was often surrounded by her senior colleagues on these occasions. Amongst them was Thanikai Chelvi, who led the women’s wing military campaign in Jaffna after the occupation by the Sri Lankan army. Thanikai Chelvi was a widely experienced cadre who gained a comprehensive knowledge of the social problems of Tamil women when she worked in the political section in Jaffna and the Vanni. My experience of living an underground life during the occupation of Jaffna by the IPKF, meant that Thanikai Chelvi and I had much to share when we discussed her underground life in occupied Jaffna. Slimly built, this smiling, undaunted young women lived on a knife edge when she functioned underground in Jaffna surrounded by enemy troops. Ironically, her death came, not in the dangerous underground world of Jaffna, but while leading a contingent of female fighters in battle in Mannar in 2000.

The wedding ceremonies were usually held at one of the LTTE offices followed by either snacks or a meal afterwards. Laughter and joking filled the fresh night air under star filled skies as friends and colleagues enjoyed the good will at the wedding. Attending these functions would be such people as Dr. Pathmalojini, the first doctor to join the LTTE and my close friend during my time in Jaffna and the Vanni. I first met Pathma just after the war with the IPKF broke out when she was working in the Oorani hospital in Valvettiturai. Some of our wounded cadres had been admitted to the hospital and she was attending to them. When I went to visit the injured she expressed concern that the Indian troops might arrest her and she asked me to arrange for an ampoule of cyanide for her to carry. She continued to take risks, attending to wounded LTTE cadres in secret hideouts until she was eventually arrested by the IPKF and subjected to psychological torture. The Indian army released her after public protests in front of the camp in which she was being held. Nevertheless, her experience with her IPKF captors failed to break her will and she consistently and without hesitation continued to treat the injured LTTE cadres both at the battlefield and in the LTTE hospitals. Padma took more work on her shoulders when she started to teach the LTTE cadres basic medical procedures and nursing care. She spent her free time in service to the public. She eventually married Mr. Karikalan, the former deputy head of the political section.

To ensure the success of these wedding functions as well as other important occasions, Mr. Pirabakaran delegated the task to Mr. Tamil Chelvan, head of the political section. Mr. Tamil Chelvan was one of the youngest cadres to join the struggle in those early days in 1984. It was his passion for the struggle, coupled with his dedication, which caught the eye of Mr. Pirabakaran. Following his military training, Mr. Pirabakaran inducted Tamil Chelvan into his inner circle by recruiting him as one of his most trusted bodyguards. In terms of the struggle Tamil Chelvan is a contemporary of Sornam having functioned as a bodyguard to Mr. Pirabakaran. He was promoted to the post of commander of Tenmarachchi, where he was faced with the challenge of leading the resistance against the occupying Indian army. He succeeded in this task and was rewarded with the post of Commander of Jaffna where he engaged in many battles in the defence of the peninsula. Tamil Chelvan also wears his battle scars from the several occasions he has been wounded. The most dangerous injury that threatened his life occurred when shrapnel from exploding aerial bombs shattered his leg. With his limb hanging from his body and bleeding profusely, Tamil Chelvan was on the brink of death when he arrived at the Jaffna hospital for resuscitation treatment. Miraculously he survived his injuries and, after a long period of recuperation and learning to walk with the support of a walking stick, he resumed his duties. Tamil Chelvan was promoted as head of the political section following the Mathaya scandal and Kittu’s unfortunate death at the hands of the Indian navy. He remains at the post.

As a trusted confidante of Mr. Pirabakaran, Tamil Chelvan’s work has steadily expanded to include, apart from his many responsibilities as the leader of the political wing of the LTTE, the task of arranging LTTE’s functions, including the weddings. Assiting him was Sudha, the head of Tamil Chelvan’s administrative structure, a tireless and creative worker. Tamil Chelvan delegated to Sudha the responsibility of attending to our care and maintenance while we were in Jaffna and in Vanni. With Mr. Tamil Chelvan’s interest and Sudha’s skills our life in both Jaffna and the Vanni was made that much easier. Tamil Chelvan was generous to us and made every effort to ensure that we were relatively comfortable. He regularly sent me fruit and vegetables that he ordered specially from Vavuniya town. In recognition of Bala’s lengthy history with the organisation, his experience and wide knowledge, Tamil Chelvan always consulted Bala and valued his advice on wide ranging issues. Bala supported Tamil Chelvan with his intellectual input into the political work. He was often a visitor to our house to discuss political issues and quite often for a meal. His favourite dish was my white fish curry (sothi), from which he enjoyed eating the cooked head of the fish.

Heroes of the Liberation War

Senior commanders respected by the LTTE cadres and the Tamil people as war heroes of the liberation struggle were amongst the visitors to our home. One such commander was Soosai, Sea Tiger Commander. Soosai, hailing from the fishing village of Polygandy in Vadamarachchi was very close to Bala and I. Our relationship with Soosai extends as far back as the days of the Indian occupation of Jaffna when we were under ground in Vadamarachchi. We renewed our contact during our stay in Vadamarachchi in 1990 after our return to Jaffna following the negotiations with the Premadasa government. Soosai was in charge of the Vadamarachchi sector before he became the Sea Tiger commander. It was during these days Bala helped to arrange Soosai’s wedding.

Soosai thrived in his role as commander of the Sea Tiger unit and this was apparent by the success he has achieved in building up the naval wing of the LTTE. Soosai is a trustworthy confidante of Mr. Pirabakaran. Having realised the strategic importance of naval power in the Eelam War, Mr. Pirabakaran helped Soosai in every way to build up the Tamil naval unit. With the combination of Pirabakaran’s passion and creativity and Soosai’s hard work and administrative ability the LTTE’s naval wing became an effective maritime fighting force posing a serious challenge to the Sri Lankan Navy. The Sea Tiger Unit, under the able command of Soosai, has been involved in several sea battles inflicting severe damage on the Sri Lankan naval fleet and has also made remarkable contributions in land battles by several strategic sea landings of LTTE troops.

But apart from naval battles and transporting cadres, the Sea Tigers have a small unit that engages in fishing for the organisation and Bala was a beneficiary of their catch. Bala enjoys eating the freshest of fish, so he often indulged himself when Soosai sent fish straight from the beach to our house for his lunch.

Essentially a sociable and affable human being, Soosai is popular amongst the people for his sympathetic, just and down to earth approach. It is perhaps his affability and apparent generosity of spirit that won the heart of Sudha, Soosai’s devoted wife. Sudha and Soosai, and their two small children, Sindhu and Manniarasan, were always generous in sharing their family warmth and affection with us on the many occasions when we visited them for meals and on their visits to our house. Sudha, from Uddupitty, Vadamarachchi, is the sister of Shankar, the LTTE cadre whose death anniversary is celebrated as Heroes’ Day. Sudha’s quiet, confident and calm demeanour brings joy and serenity within the family.

Another legendary figure in the Tamil struggle for freedom that visited our house is the towering figure and personality of Sornam. Sornam’s history in the LTTE dates back to the mid 80s when he was one of Mr. Pirabakaran’s bodyguards. As a young man he regularly visited our house in Chennai in the capacity of a trusted assistant to Mr. Pirabakaran. During the period of the IPKF his military potential, extraordinary courage and obvious administrative talents revealed themselves and pushed Sornam up the ranks in the military structure culminating in the most trusted role in charge of Mr. Pirabakaran’s personal security. The respect and admiration Sornam enjoyed from the cadres under his direct command and within the organisation was apparent whenever Sornam came within their presence. Contributing to the widely held love and respect for him was his obvious readiness to lead from the front and to share the ordeals of war and to maintain the discipline of the troops under his command. Sornam has led the LTTE fighters to many victories in battle and has been injured on several occasions. It was distressing for us to see this gentle giant struggling in the Jaffna General Hospital with serious chest and arm injuries he received during major battles in the North.

Apart from his own personal security, Mr. Pirabakaran delegated to Sornam the responsibility of our protection whilst we were living in Valigamam. A team of selected cadres from Mr. Pirabakaran’s personal bodyguards was deployed at our home for our security requirements. Sornam visited our house regularly to review and advise us on our security situation and to attend to the needs and welfare of the cadres. Six feet and two inches tall and solidly built, Sornam presented a gallant figure immaculately dressed in his fatigues. His general ease and confidence underplayed the enormous military responsibilities he carried.

After many years of risking his life in the battlefield and twenty four-hour service to Mr Pirabakaran and the organisation, it was a happy day for us when we were attended his wedding. His bride was the lovely Jenny, third in command of the women’s military wing. Jenny escaped death when her house received a direct hit by Sri Lankan aerial bombardment during ‘Operation Riversa’. She was expecting her first child. Sornam was not in the house but on the battlefield defending Jaffna from the advancing Sinhala troops at the time of the incident. Later, in the Vanni, Sornam’s work often took him away from Jenny to Trincomalee for long periods and we often visited her home to lift her spirits during these days of anxious separation. They have remained a happy couple with two little girls.

Banu and Theepan, military commanders of enormous courage and astute operational ability are worthy recipients of the respect and admiration of the organisation. Banu, as the former Commander of Jaffna is reputed for his selfless disregard for his own well being in the battlefield. As the commander of the Kittu Artillery Unit, Banu has trained his contingents to a high degree of professionalism and contributed to the development of the LTTE combat formations into an effective conventional force. The artillery and mortar units under his command expanded rapidly and secured remarkable victories in several crucial battles in the liberation war. Banu often helped Bala in his study of the warfront by providing him with comprehensive maps from which he could follow the military developments in the battlefield. With Bala, as a great teller of jokes, and Banu, as a man who relishes subtle wit, the meetings between the two in Bala’s office were full of laughter.

Theepan, another senior commander from the Vanni, with considerable military experience, is soft spoken and unassuming. So renowned is his reputation and the respect for his military ability in the movement, one is struck by his apparent humbleness in dealing with people. His presentation belies a brilliant strategist and steely, determined man and it is these qualities which inspire and exort the cadres under his command to greater efforts in the battlefield. His visits to our house usually involved a realistic exposition from Theepan concerning the military situation in exchange for an exposition of the developments in the political sphere from Bala.

Of the military commanders, one person whom we met infrequently but nonetheless shared a mutual respect for, was the veteran military commander Balraj. Incredible as it may seem, this fighting hero is a reserved man. Balraj is known, loved and respected not only for his legendary military successes and undisputed and abounding courage, but also for his utter commitment and devotion to the cadres under his command. Sensitive and respectful of the sacrifice and tribulations they have endured, Balraj opts to spend as much time as possible in the camps with them. A measure of Balraj’s courage revealed itself to us when shrapnel smashed his right leg in the Yarl Devi battle in 1993. A decision not to amputate the limb was made and Balraj suffered the excrutiating pain of limb repair. On our visits to Balraj in the Jaffna hospital the pain showed in his distressed face as he acknowledged the agony the injury was subjecting him to. Compounding his healing problems was unstable diabetes. After many months in bed and a great deal of pain, Balraj eventually walked again on his leg, but the injury left him with a permanent limp and recurrent wound infection. Nevertheless, he has viewed his injury as insignificant in comparison with suffering and the sacrifices of his cadres and continues to function as a field commander in the war zone to this day.

Among the close confidantes of Mr. Pirabakaran who visited our house, albeit less frequently, was the incomparable Tamilenthi. Tamilenthi has been a right hand man of Mr. Pirabakaran since the earliest days, and over the years their relationship has grown and deepened. Throughout these long years in the inner circle of Mr. Pirabakaran, Tamilenthi has been essentially responsible for the finance section, handling billions of rupees without any hint of impropriety on his part. For Mr. Tamilenthi, the finances are as important to the success of the struggle as are the weapons and it is with the same responsibility that he has managed the finance department over the years under extreme hardships. Indeed it has been at the cost of much criticism from within the various departments of the movement for his rigorous and scrupulous distribution of the organisation’s funds.

Tamilenthi’s passion for ancient Tamil literature and ethical philosophy of ‘Thiruvalluvar’ and his lamentation of the corruption of the Dravidian movement in Tamil Nadu, earned him the reputation as a Tamil purist. Nevertheless, despite what could be called his ‘eccentricities’, Tamilenthi is a thoughtful and cultured gentleman behind his tough exterior. As a man who has lost three brothers to the struggle and has a tremendous respect for the enormous sacrifices made by the cadres and the people, Tamilenthi views the creation of a independent Tamil state as the inalienable right of the Tamil people.

A less frequent visitor to our house but nonetheless a young women with whom we had contact and who was worthy of respect and admiration was the extraordinary commander Vidusa. Vidusa is from a conservative Brahman family in Jaffna. Her unassuming and modest presentation belies a truly exceptional young woman. I met Vidusa in the women’s commando training camp in the Alampil jungles during the Premadasa talks. She held no particular rank in those early days of her joining the organisation. But since her deployment in the battlefield from 1990 onwards, Vidusa has demonstrated remarkable courage and leadership qualities which have taken her up through the ranks of the LTTE women to the post of Colonel: on a par with the most senior male commanders. In terms of national liberation struggles and women’s role in both guerrilla and conventional war, Vidusa’s history of over a decade of continuous battlefield experience and military leadership establishes her as one of the most remarkable and commendable women soldiers in military history. Certainly Vidusa is one of the most experienced cadres in the entire LTTE military structure having spent a decade in successive battles commanding the women fighters and sharing their lives on the front lines.

Of our friends and regular visitors, there were those who brought to our home a diversity of views, critical opinions as well as laughter. One of them, well known in literary circles and close friend was Puthuvai Ratnathurai the ‘poet laureate’ of the LTTE and a man of enormous personality. Puthuvai viewed all issues seriously and formed strong opinions on most subjects. In his social location as a sculptor, Puthuvai’s worldview was formed around the centre of Tamil culture the temple. His profound knowledge of Tamil cultural practices and language meant that I had in his friendship a person capable of explaining many of the ways and meanings of Tamil life. A particularly endearing dimension of Puthuvai’s personality was his fearless assertion of his right to speak his mind and it is from Puthavai’s mouth some of the liveliest and most perceptive criticisms flowed. So too did his humour. Couched in his subtle use of language, Puthuvai could always be relied on to bring laughter to our meetings. On our many visits to each other’s houses Puthuvai would pull out his pile of betel leaves, give one to me and then prepare his ‘betel’. And so many cool evenings have passed with Puthuvai entertaining us with his wit and humour as he smoothed the lime paste onto his betel leaf, piled on the aracan shavings, rolled the leaf and pushed it into his mouth and chewed till his lips turned red.

Puthuvai was in charge of the cultural section of the LTTE and the supervisory editor of the literary magazine ‘Vellichum’. It was to this publication that Bala wrote many articles in Tamil. Writing under the pen name of ‘Bramagnani’, Bala wrote a series of articles on philosophy, sociology and politics. It was Puthuvai’s encouragement that led to my book on the dowry system, ‘Unbroken Chains’ being translated into Tamil and published in a series of articles in ‘Vellichum’. Puthuvai is famous for his writing of poetry, or more specifically, poetry of the people. His writings are renowned for the emotional and realistic depiction of the day to day life of the Tamil people and the liberation struggle and a use of the Tamil language that is both accessible and poetic. Famous also are his many liberation songs, which are widely heard and sung by the people throughout the land.

Other personal friends who visited us regularly were Ravindran (Ravi) a senior cadre and editor of ‘Viduthalai Puligal’ (Liberation Tigers) the monthly official organ of the LTTE and Jeyaraj, the editor of ‘Elanatham’ the LTTE’s daily newspaper. Both Ravi and Jeyaraj relied heavily on Bala’s advice and direction on the official policy of the organisation. Jeyaraj visited our house daily to acquaint himself with the developments in the battlefront as well as for political views. Ravi had to write monthly reviews of events both militarily and political for which he had to consult Bala. Some sensitive articles on military operations were sent to Mr. Pirabakaran for his endorsement. Occasionally Bala wrote theoretical articles explaining LTTE’s policy orientation towards various social issues. Both Ravi and Jeyaraj sought Bala’s guidance because of his position as theoretician as well as his wide journalistic experience. Furthermore, through his personal contacts with Mr. Pirabakaran, Tamil Chelvan and the field commanders, Bala could provide the news and analysis of the on-going politico-military developments.

Ravi’s wife Shobana, a former LTTE cadre, was known to us from her frequent visits when she worked on the women’s wing monthly journal ‘Suthanthira Paravaikal’ (Birds of Freedom). Jeyaraj is married to Ganga, a teacher in Puthukuddiruppu High School. Both the couples became close friends of ours and they regularly visited us.

The War Continues

The battle of ‘Jayasukuru’ with its strategic design of opening a land route to Jaffna Peninsula via the A9 highway, bifurcating the jungle heartland of Vanni, came to a grinding halt at Mankulam after eighteen months of bloody and savage fighting. Fiercely determined to thwart the Sri Lankan army, the LTTE forces offered intense resistance and launched counter-offensives in the rear as well as in the flanks of the advancing columns along the highway. The intensity of the LTTE assaults were such that the Sri Lankan army suffered extremely high casualties and became demoralised. It has been estimated that Government troops suffered ten thousand casualties 3000 dead and 7000 wounded in this drawn out battle. The Vanni jungles are familiar ground to the Tigers where they fought and survived a war with the fourth largest army in the world. Operating in familiar militarily advantageous terrain, with extensive experience in jungle warfare, the LTTE fighters posed a serious challenge to the Sri Lankan troops. With the capture of a huge arsenal from the Mullaitivu military complex, Mr. Pirabakaran developed artillery, mortar and anti-tank units that were effectively deployed against the ‘Jayasukuru’ troops. In a move to strengthen the defensive capability of the LTTE in the Vanni, Mr. Pirabakaran inducted the Jayanthan Brigade, an elite battle experienced unit from Batticaloa under Colonel Karuna, into the war in Vanni. The brigades of Jayanthan, Charles Anthony, Imbran Pandian, Malathy, Sukanja, the best of the combat units of the LTTE were mobilised under the field commanders Colonel Karuna, Colonel Theepan, Colonel Balraj, Colonel Banu and Colonel Vidusa against the Sinhala invasion force of 30,000 troops including the U.S trained 53 and 55 Divisions of the Sri Lankan army. The battle triggered by ‘Jayasukuru’ was fierce and took place over a long period. Despite the mighty fire power at their disposal - including the air power- the Sri Lankan armed forces failed to achieve their strategic objective. The troops were bogged down for months in the strategic towns of Pulliyankulam and Kanagarayankulam where the LTTE fighters constructed impenetrable defensive fortifications and offered stiff resistance. It was during the ferocious fighting in these strategic towns that the Sri Lankan army suffered heavy casualties and hundreds of troops from elite commando units perished. After eighteen months of bitter fighting, the Sinhalese army edged nearer to Mankulam town yet still found it impossible to breach the LTTE’s defensive perimeters there. On 27th September 1998 the Liberation Tigers launched operation ‘Unceasing Waves 2’, overrunning Killinochchi town, and its environs. It was during the Killinochchi battle when the LTTE re-deployed some of its elite commando formations, that the Sri Lankan troops were able to capture Mankulam, weakened as a result. Nevertheless the fall of Killinochchi was a major military debacle for the Government troops. It was also a severe blow to the government’s strategic plan to open up a land route to Jaffna. Jayasukuru’s tortuous journey along the A9 highway came to a permanent halt at Mankulam.

Our life in Puthukuddiruppu, Mullaitivu went on as usual while the bloodiest of battles raged in the distance. The thunder of artillery fire became part of our lives. Random air strikes and naval bombardment of the Mullaitivu coastal area were regular occurrences. We received daily news on the progress of the battles from Mr. Pirabakaran’s office. Bala in turn passed it on to the local media. Either Mr. Pirabakaran or one of his field commanders provided a full picture of the war situation on visits to our place during intervals of the fighting. Dinesh, a senior cadre and the administrative head of the ‘Eelanatham’ daily paper often undertook perilous journeys to the ‘Jayasukuru’ battle field and came out with detailed stories of the war.

The successful campaign against ‘Jayasukuru’ by the Jayanthan Brigade under Karuna’s command earned him widespread popularity and respect from the LTTE cadres as well as from the people of Vanni. But apart from his military skills, Karuna has a passion for learning and, on his own effort, has studied English which enables him to read widely on many issues, particularly military science and political commentaries. And so when Karuna visited our house he was armed with many political questions. And so was Bala. Bala would dig out all the details from Karuna of the strategies and tactics of the defensive war in the Vanni. The Batticaloa cadres brought with them warmth and frankness in their relationships with others which was truly welcome. It is because the conditions of state oppression in the Eastern Province are extremely harsh, fierce and mercilessly brutal that the younger generation of fighters who join the LTTE display a unique determination to fight against the oppressive apparatus - the Sinhala armed forces. Having provided intense training in conventional combat Mr. Pirabakaran offered the fighting units of the Eastern Province an opportunity to a deal heavy blow to the enemy forces, which they promptly took.

Bala Falls Seriously Ill

Bala looked fresh and neat in his white verti and bone shirt when he appeared, ready to leave for the wedding of a female cadre on the evening of 27th August 1998. But, as I looked at him there was something not quite right. Distorting his otherwise normal appearance were his swollen eyes. I had noticed Bala’s eyes were puffy at the same time on the previous evening but dismissed my concern by attributing it to a longer than usual afternoon nap. But it was impossible for me to hold onto that view on this successive day. I made light of this puffiness in Bala’s face when I pointed out the problem to the LTTE doctor, Suri at the wedding. Suri was slightly taken aback and reflective when I jokingly suggested that the abdominal discomfort he had been experiencing for a few weeks without any apparent cause and the puffiness around his eyes and oedema of his limbs must have its aetiology in renal disease. When his urine output was almost nil the next morning, I knew Bala was seriously ill. And with this, a new turn of events unfolded in our personal history. Since that day we have been living under a cloud of uncertainty as Bala’s failing health took him to the brink of death during the early stages of his illness in the Vanni.

A team of LTTE doctors rushed to examine Bala the following day on hearing of his signs and symptoms. In the absence of any diagnostic equipment, a provisional diagnosis of kidney infection based on clinical observation was agreed upon after confabulations between the LTTE doctors and the medical staff at the local hospital. The doctors had determined the diagnosis from the high level of protein in his urine measured by the outdated method of slowly heating urine in a test tube over a bunsen burner flame and estimating the amount of protein by the level of cloudiness that appeared. The treatment of choice was oral antibiotic therapy, but when the response to successive families of antibiotics failed to deliver the expected response and his condition progressively deteriorated, alarm bells were sounded.

Dr Suri, a senior LTTE doctor, was given the responsibility for the medical management of Bala’s illness. Suri, an extremely competent and caring young doctor, had gained most of his medical experience in the surgical department of the Jaffna General Hospital before the exodus to the Vanni in 1996, and in the treatment of the injured LTTE cadres afterwards. He was concerned that his medical knowledge was insufficient to cope with Bala’s treatment. In this situation Suri, a young man with an enormous sense of responsibility and duty to his patients, refused to be hustled into decisions against his own judgement. He drew on the advice and medical experience of his colleague Dr. Pathmalojini - my friend from the Jaffna days - and referred to the library of medical books available to him. Suri realised the urgency of more thorough investigations to substantiate a diagnosis if Bala was to have any hope of effective treatment. From the outset, Suri opted for a conservative approach to Bala’s management. He was acutely aware that without thorough tests and examination it would be impossible to establish a comprehensive diagnosis. In such circumstances, in his medical opinion, blindly prescribing treatment could be more damaging in the long term. So while Suri treated Bala within the perimeters of his knowledge and facilities, he cleverly sought out ways to establish a more scientific diagnosis based on biochemical analysis from which he could proceed with treatment and management. With the help of a colleague, Suri discovered a way of sending blood and urine samples to Colombo for analysis, without revealing the name of the patient whose specimens were to be examined. So blood and urine samples were labelled with false names and despatched to Colombo for analysis.

When Suri approached our house late in the evening in the company of another doctor a week or so after sending the first sample of blood, I immediately knew bad news was on the way. We had learned by Suri’s methods that he preferred the support of a colleague when he was the bearer of news that he had difficulty in divulging. The tests confirmed that Bala did indeed have severely impaired renal function (diabetic nephropathy) secondary to prolonged diabetes. But none of us had anyway of knowing that Bala’s condition was complicated by total obstruction of his left kidney. The diagnosis Suri brought with him was one matter; the more immediate concern for us all was the deteriorating potassium and urea levels to which, in the Vanni, absolutely no treatment was available. Bala’s condition was visibly deteriorating. Mr. Pirabakaran, a regular visitor after hearing of Bala’s illness, was informed of the diagnosis.

The Sri Lankan government’s decade and a half-long blockade of food and medicine to the North had wreaked havoc on the health care facilities and undermined the health of the population. Severe shortages of such basic medicines as paracetemol was a perennial problem which had inflicted wide spread suffering on the people and caused unnecessary death in many instances. Compounding the danger to the wellbeing of patients was the absence of diagnostic equipment at the hospitals. There were no X-ray facilities at the Puthukuddiruppu hospital. The machine had long ago ceased functioning, compelling patients to travel very long distances to the other side of Vanni for a simple X-ray. More often than not when they arrived at the hospital, the machine would be out of order or films were not available since the Sri Lankan Defence Ministry had rejected the requisition application, depriving the hospital of this basic requirement. Laboratory equipment for biochemical analysis of specimens from patients to assist in the accurate diagnosis of diseases was not available. This is the context in which Bala fell ill.

In an environment badly equipped to cope with renal failure, Bala’s prognosis looked extremely poor. Since it was impossible for him to travel to Colombo for treatment as many of the other patient’s did the only course of management for the doctors was relief of his symptoms with the limited facilities and medicines available to them, and monitoring of his illness. On several occasions the Sri Lankan army closed down checkpoints preventing the flow of traffic to Colombo. This had a devastating emotional effect on me for it meant delays in sending blood specimens to Colombo for analysis to gain an assessment of his condition. Reports were often delayed, taking up to ten days to reach us by which time his condition had undergone further change. It was a frustrating experience for Dr. Suri to have his hands tied by lack of resources in the management of his patient and to watch him deteriorating, knowing there was nothing he could do to either relieve or help him. The constant excruciating headaches from his dangerously high blood pressure was temporarily relieved by increasing the old generation of hypotensive drugs. His ectopic heartbeats were, for a long period, the only indication that his potassium must be at the life threatening level. Nothing could be done for his loss of appetite, photo- phobia and his increasing irritability. Complicating the whole medical picture was a sudden unavailability of insulin for management of his diabetes. The brand of insulin used by Bala was available in small amounts in Colombo and in India and foreign countries. Throughout our time in India and Jaffna, Mr. Pirabakaran had made it a point to ensure that Bala had a fresh supply of medicine available to him. Now, added to the crisis we were in, I learned that the stores of insulin I thought I kept safely for use were either out of date or had deteriorated from improper storage. Faced with the fact that it was impossible to obtain any fresh supplies of insulin in the immediate future, I gambled on using out of date stock. I had no choice. When the doses from one bottle appeared to be ineffective, I swapped to another vial as I waited and hoped that by some miracle one of the many people despatched to purchase his medicine would somehow or other find a supplier. Two weeks later Mr. Pirabakaran came to our house carrying a more than ample amount of fresh insulin stored in ice packs.

Bala’s condition steadily deteriorated with him unable to get up off the bed and confined to dark rooms away from the sunlight, and it appeared that he would rapidly progress to a stage requiring emergency renal replacement treatment in the near future. In such an eventuality, the doctors were acutely aware, there was nothing they could offer Bala in terms of treatment with the facilities that were available in the Vanni. During these emotionally tense times for me I often observed a senior cadre, Kapil Amman, sitting quietly in Bala’s office reading the paper and waiting. Our relationship to Kapil Amman extends as far back as 1984 when he was one of the first cadres to attend political classes by Bala. A young man from Trincomalee, Kapil Amman has had wide experience in the battlefield. He is truly a gentle soul and he reflected deeply on such issues as human rights, which he often discussed with Bala. Kapil Amman never disturbed either Bala or me, except to enquire frequently about the progress of his condition. But his quiet presence always told me he was available for any help I might require.

The news that Bala was gravely ill and might not recover spread throughout the movement like wildfire. Mr. Pirabakaran had obviously informed his commanders of Bala’s deteriorating condition and one by one they appeared at the door anxious to see him, perhaps for the last time. Amongst the commanders who came was Pottu Amman, whom we had not seen for many months. Our old friend, Baby Subramaniam, was disturbed by the news and, along with his wife travelled for a day from their home in Malaavi to visit Bala. Indeed, during this crisis in our lives support flowed in from all sources and directions.

One of the earliest visitors to rush to our house to offer me help was Rani, wife of Balakumar, the former EROS leader. A trained nurse, Rani understood the danger that Bala was in more than most people did and this knowledge is perhaps the reason tears flowed when she visited. Nevertheless, her obvious sadness at Bala’s failing health did not prevent her from administering physical help in whatever way she could, and she put a great deal of effort into preparing dishes to wet his flagging appetite, while taking into consideration his blood chemistry also. It was often helpful to talk to Rani on a professional basis as I had forgotten many aspects of nursing care and she was able to refresh my memory and offer hints that eased Bala’s discomfort.

Vaneetha my old friend was there to help in whatever way she could. The doctors had ordered a strict diet for Bala during his illness, which severely constrained the type of food I could cook for him. At the same time it was necessary to maintain his nutritional state. I called on Vaneetha for new ideas and different dishes and she willing spent her time to teach me. Indeed, it was quite an irony to have a Sinhalese lady teaching a western woman how to cook Tamil food and the situation often bought a chuckle between us. Most people laughed when they saw the two of us together, using Tamil as the medium of communication. Vaneetha often visited our house alone, but on several occasions she visited with her husband, Mr. Nadesan who was in charge of the LTTE’s police force. We were family friends. Nadesan frequently consulted Bala on matters related to the police force and he was always willing to listen to his perspective. Bala gave many lectures to the newly recruited police force repeatedly emphasising the humanistic approach stressing the impact of the abnormal social conditions caused by the war and the need for the police to view with sympathy and understanding the magnitude of the problems the people faced. Indeed, on many occasions, Bala became the conscience of the people in conveying to Nadesan the complaints made by the public to him concerning the tough action taken by the police force. Being a senior cadre with a progressive political orientation, Nadesan valued our ideas and took our criticisms positively. Puthavai’s wife Ranjini, was also helpful in preparing dishes that Bala enjoyed and kindled his appetite. Soosai’s wife, seeing the strain I was under, came with her children and cooked food that Bala particularly liked.

In the meantime, Dr. Suri relayed daily reports to Mr Pirabakaran on Bala’s deteriorating condition. Mr. Pirabakaran sought and received the collective medical opinion of several doctors in the Vanni. In their medical opinion, Bala’s best chance of survival and his long term prognosis hinged on him being evacuated out of the country as soon as possible to a place where medical facilities for the management of renal failure were available. We immediately considered Tamil Nadu as a preferred option for emergency medical treatment. Though some Tamil political leaders - our friends and sympathisers were willing to help we could not take the risk because of the proscription of the LTTE in India. We pinned our hopes on a request to a foreign country after Mr. Pirabakaran instructed our international secretariat to contact the Norwegian government.

Chandrika’s Demands

The Norwegian Ambassador in Colombo, Mr. Jon Westborg was thoroughly briefed by the former Foreign Minister Mr. Hameed, on the significance of Bala to any future negotiating process between the LTTE and the Sri Lanka government. Westborg was given the green light by his government to investigate the authenticity of the information concerning Bala’s condition and the ICRC was called in to assist in this process. About five weeks after the onset of Bala’s illness, an ICRC team headed by Mr. Max Hadorn, then the chief of the delegation in Colombo, accompanied by a doctor, arrived in the Vanni with a request to visit Bala and to carry out a medical examination. The delegation visited our house in Puthukuddiruppu and the response of the doctor to the delegate leader following the examination of Bala was, in his words, ‘He must be removed as early as possible’.After collecting blood and urine specimens for further analysis to validate the full extent of his illness, the ICRC delegation returned to Colombo with a promise of follow up.

The Norwegian Government, with the moral support of the ICRC, approached Chandrika Kumaratunga to seek a safe evacuation of Bala out of Sri Lanka on humanitarian grounds. Chandrika was told that Bala was critically ill with renal insufficiency and that he needed emergency treatment abroad and the Norwegian Government was willing to help. The Norwegians had also impressed upon Kumaratunga the significance of saving Bala’s life for a possible future peace process between the LTTE and the Sri Lanka Government. There were extensive deliberations in Colombo and Mr. Kadirgamar was also consulted. The Norwegians had informed us through our representative in Oslo that the Government of Sri Lanka was favourably considering Bala’s case and even discussing logistics for the evacuation of Bala. Mr. Pirabakaran looked relieved and pleased when he brought this news. On that particular day, as a measure of goodwill and as a significant humanitarian gesture, Mr. Pirabakaran released nine soldiers (prisoners of war) and crewmen in the custody of the LTTE. Now we were waiting for a positive response from the Kumaratunga Government. Several anxious days passed. There was no response and Bala’s condition was deteriorating. In desperation we contacted the ICRC. To our dismay, the ICRC delegate told us that their organisation was kept out of the Colombo discussions on Bala’s case since Mr. Kadirgamar did not trust them. After two months of waiting in anxious expectation, we finally received a message from the Norwegian Government. Chandrika and Kadirgamar had worked out a list of demands (or guarantees) for the LTTE to fulfil as ‘significant reciprocal humanitarian gestures’ if Bala had to be evacuated with the assistance of Sri Lanka.

Firstly, the Tiger leadership should guarantee that the LTTE should not disrupt or impede the Government administration in the Northeastern Province nor should they attack and destroy any Government property in Tamil areas. Secondly, the LTTE should not threaten or attack any sea or air transport (supplies) to the Northeast. Thirdly, the LTTE should not attack any public property throughout the country. Fourthly, the LTTE should release all persons in LTTE’s custody, not merely those known to the ICRC, but others also. In this context, the Government claimed - without any concrete proof that the LTTE was holding at least two hundred and fifty persons without the knowledge of the ICRC. Fifthly, the LTTE should release all cadres under the age of eighteen in its forces to the next of kin.

From this list of demands or rather ‘guarantees’ we knew that Chandrika was demanding her pound of flesh exploiting the vulnerable situation of the LTTE. These demands which were of a military nature affecting the very mode of armed struggle - had no relevance whatsoever to a humanitarian request seeking only safe passage for the evacuation of a person suffering from a critical renal illness. This attitude betrayed the callous and calculative nature of Chandrika Kumaratunga. Bala and I rejected these conditions outright. Bala said he preferred to die with honour and self- respect rather than acceding to these humiliating demands. Mr. Prabakaran was furious with Chandrika and Kadirgamar for stipulating such unacceptable conditions. The President’s position on this matter had a profoundly negative impact on the thinking of the LTTE leadership. If she could not favourably consider a simple humanitarian plea compassionately for the future prospect of peace, how would she be able to resolve the most difficult and complex of all the issues the, Tamil ethnic conflict? This was the feeling that prevailed amongst the LTTE leaders at that time.

Miraculously, as weeks passed by, new blood results revealed that Bala had survived the acute crisis he had been in and had settled into chronic renal insufficiency. Nevertheless, the urgency of Bala leaving the Vanni for medical care did not decline. The doctors were constantly concerned that the environment posed a serious threat to his health and they were uncertain of the length of time before Bala would require renal replacement therapy. For me, every day management of his wellbeing became a nightmare. His strict diet precluded so many foods and his weight dropped dramatically. I was constantly aware of the coming monsoon season and that the seas would then be impassable, condemning us to another four months wait in the Vanni until the weather changed. I was desperate that he should leave the Vanni while he was well enough to make the journey and before the monsoon set in. The anxiety within me surfaced when Mr. Pirabakaran and Mathy made a visit to our house. I explained to the couple about Bala’s precarious health condition emphasising the urgency of evacuating him abroad for treatment. If this was not done immediately, Bala’s death was inevitable, I told them, while struggling to contain my emotions. Apparently moved by my distress, Mr.Pirabakaran understood the critical situation. He too loved and respected Bala and was deeply concerned about his wellbeing. He consoled me by assuring that he would do everything within his power and resources to send ‘Bala Anna’ abroad for treatment. Mr. Pirabakaran acted immediately. He alerted his international network to arrange a ship to evacuate Bala. Within weeks we received news that our ship was moored in the deep sea, waiting for us.

With news of our imminent departure, leaders and cadres of the LTTE flocked to our house for a final farewell. My stomach grew tighter and my appetite declined in the days approaching our departure on 23rd January 1999. Of course it was imperative for Bala to be taken out of the Vanni, but I had no appetite to leave the people and the struggle behind. When Tamilenthi came to our house on the afternoon of our departure day I knew that our time to leave was near. When Tamil Chelvan arrived in his Pajero to escort us to the beach, the time was nearer. When Soosai swung into our driveway in the vehicle to take us to his camp on the Mullaitivu coast I knew we would be on our way soon. We had only to wait for Mr. Pirabakaran’s arrival. When he finally came, he briefly spoke to Bala and me bidding us goodbye. Jokes and smiles hid each other’s sadness. Bala, restraining his emotions, ignored Jimmy, his faithful old dog of fifteen years, who looked up at him expectantly, got into the Pajero and stared ahead. Unable to resist Jimmy’s beckoning to us, I patted her on the head then looked around at everyone, and finally to Mr. Pirabakaran for the last time. Our vehicle sped away from the house. It was all over.