Page 1
Friarra a drar Hring fi
P0ET THAM
"ENGLISH
PUBLICATI
 
 
 

"Argus IIIs Johr.
ON OF THE
FORUM
R

Page 2
Fifth issue of the THIRD EYE - May 1998
CO
01. True Peace Lovers
02. Bearing Coals of Fire
03. Suite for Kokodicholai, Sri Lanka
04. Fire Walk
05. My Wishes Vasudevan.
06. I give my eyes
07. The Prick of conscience
08. The Void
09. I though - you called
10. English Theatre in Batticaloa
and its recent development
11. The Man who said 'no'
12. The Man put the Chutzpah into Poe
13. Will Await you,
14. Equipoise
15. Poetry London
16. The Cuckoo's House
17. Paleface rather than Redskin
The development ofthedivine in ma Eye QfTapas, mano - viritti. Thapasi 1 to burn'. This has a dual role. Tit, process qfcleansing Samskara orpu under the perfect control of the min faculty of thought is the best fields for products can stand timelessly,
T

tents
L.A.Leon
S.Jeyasankar,
Marilyn Krysl
S.Jeyasankar.
Vasudovan.
S.Jeyasnakar,
A. Santhan.
Sasi Krishnamoorthy.
V.Gowripalan.
L.A.Leon.
A.J. Canagaratna
stry Geoffrey Moore
A.S.Paiva
K. Saddanathan
A.T.Tolley.
A.Santhan
A.J. Canagaratna.
would be called the THIRD EYE, or the s from the root Tap' is Sanskrit meaning 'ned inwards the burning is an internal *ification. The five door of perception are d (manas) to such a cleanser. His inner the cultivation of true literary crop. Such

Page 3
TRUE PEACE LOVERS
The call for ballot, the jugglers resort to white wash stately sepulchre and spin the ubiquitous relief for a cause that seems just
n’er in spirit,
to fill the bill, to whet the war zizmo - some forelone mendicants do liege, in loyalty sit like Larzarus, waiting, to catch the crumbs that might be let fall, and in rivalry struggle to hold a rank first among the rest, and succour the "upright - peace-lovers' dreams, desing'd and will'd,
The Race's destiny lies in tatters dren, as the desert dwellers, from pillar to post, uprooted formancestral rest, scattered in the name of "war for peace" and "struggle for freedom". a monstrous parodyThe "peace lovers' do beat the drums of Human Rights, in form, commission and legal code, bless'd Sagely on its own valued scale by the sanctimonious eagle the champion of Human Rights, It skips reason to equate Human Rights with power politicsthat regards not the losses nor suffering mor feeling, but flash joyfully mirror'd neon lights a conceit of legal terror; the voting thanasha
The homeless do roam the wilderness devoid of all things valued, weather'd in the winter's cold of hunder and shower, and the parching heat of merciless
Sumter, But nature's changing moods farless harsh than the backstage horrors of stately terror,
gracefully screened, flashing lights,
They chime the bells of democracy, to muffle the cry of agony, and go dancing on the streets ballyhooing devaluation promises gas balon'd, ever distanced true peace lovers,
Wote
Cert
No C
the nod and that that So c. Well fort
Ritu:
Fire
Lum
Ritu: The Wall
Surr
Trea
All a
With
W Allg
foll( beau and
All 2 My My any( Rath in ti

Fifth issue of the THIRD EYE - May 1998
s sort after with nor voter insight ain of victory with puppetsia hand. ne dare ask why; mendicants do sit close-by ding heads, warming in comfort in the fire consumes the destiny of their fire consumes the destiny of their race. lever in deceptive tactics knowing any vote is a valid vote, he world to acknowledge. - L.A. Leon
BEARING COALS OF FIRE
al drums echoing all around, - brand in the "Marie Amman" temple inescent, dark orange in colour,
al drums echoing all around, "Thalai Theivam" of the Temple in a trance ks in a robotic style with a stranĝe “ha” ounded by the "Theivams" and devotees.
ding towards the fire-beds,
a huge wave with magic power round us the ritual drum echoing.
people surrounded behind a roped fence out food and sleep ing for the moment through the might got chilled.
"Thalai Theivam" now treads on the fire-bed wed by hundreds and hundreds of my people ring coals of fire in their bosoms freezing sadness on their faces.
round us is the ritual drum echoing heart chilled, ayes dropped tears
pne can read their traoradio rn thair silant farae aLSLLLSM S AAeASJYYSLL ALTALALLSSLS SSSYLeALeYYSSS SYS ،نا ماده باله VM it twLA" A?--Wiki-ikko WMAMAYA
her than from a censored and lie - flowing mass media his “age of information".
"ound us is the ritual drum echoing
el
agical power runs through myself
al within me I'm (re) charged
dually night hides its darkness
new rays of the morning
ings from the "Eluvankarai”
- SJeyasankar.
emale Deity of rain
hief Deity
hat part of Batticaloa where sun rises.

Page 4
LLLLLCLLL LL LLL LLL LL0L LLLLLLLAAAAS ALALA ALA S S LLLLLL LA AL L S S S SS
SUTTE FORKOKO
1. Testimony
After the mine the soldier came Among those men they took was my husband He with the others had to circle the crater three times Then the soldiers forced them into the centre
The third one herded in was my husband Where I stood I saw face as they shot him Iwatched while they fired the shots that killed the oth The bodies lay one above the other like sticks of wood
I have seven children I know my husband's body After the burning I did not know his body After the burning I did not see his face again This cloth is a piece of his sarong, partly burned.
2. Weath
I was in my fields when I heard the first shots I walked quickly The first houses were deserted I could hear the soldiers ahead, firing Then I met others also walking quickly
They took me with them to Kumaranayagam's mill Beside the gate three red blossoms of hibiscus The gate stood open Beyond I saw my wife She stood in the yard as though she owned nothing
Inside a strip of light lay across the floor A woman knelt dipping a clothin a bucket Again and agair she washed the same stain The stain began to gleam as though polished
My wife had laid the children side by side She had placed the smallest between the other two She had laid the boy between his two sisters Often they walked that way, one on either side
After three days I went back to my fields I looked at the ground Nothing will growhere I was wrong Now the rice is green Still there is no reason to walk quickly,

DICHOLAI, SRI LANKA
erS
3. Character
My mother's full name was Mamangam Maheswary We thought many together would be safe When you're afraid a crowd seems good I hoped in the mill I could hide my children
The soldiers' shouts sounded like a great force My mother sat down in the centre of the room The rest of us scurried like rats but she was claim Her sari was red, the colour of heat
I pushed my children back behind the others My mother's back was straight, spine of a queen Like an old tree she had grown strong I have seen men tremble and whine in her presence
But these soldiers were not men, and I am not Worthy Like a rat I hid beneath my dead children My mother sat like a stone carving Her full name was Mamangam Maheswary
4. Witness
In the compound the bodies were scattered On the veranda they lay in heaps Inside they lay where had fallen I stood on a floor of blood
The bodies had not quite gone out Light from their flesh made a last dusk in the room Death was busy, and I was in its presence Why was I chosen Who am I to be alive
Latter they came back and burned the bodies Afterward ash swirled up on the wind, and away Still, I see the arms fallen open as though to give I see the arms reaching as though to embrace
Marilyn Krysl From: Kenyan Review

Page 5
FIRE WALK
Neems are sacred
Neems are dignified Neems have the vigour to grow into huge trees Have the grandeur that makes one's chest be held high And greenness that fills the heart.
Such neems when cut down, piled and fire lit Flamboyant tongues of fire blossomed and filled the fire-be
Feet in thousands treated On the fire
To fulfil their long-waited vows
Conceived and harboured in minds Food renounced and sleep neglected.
Tricking down, through the thousand feet, into the fire-b The fire that flared in the heart's furnace
Extinguished and thus made cool and calm The minds that held the vows.
The days of 'agni' long came to an end
Having walked the fire What would the request be At the sacred feet of Amman'
just to let the vow become Past memories all
Like the pieces of coal Buried beneath the sands
When such neems
Ofvigour, grandeur andgreenness Are burnt down to earth
By: SJeyasanker, Translated by: T. Kirupakaran,

d
led
MY WISHES.
Oh, Bat, may you live long worldly path denied you that make your own, Such individuality, oh, my guide, May you live long.
"You're in everything upside down' thus, my family when rebukes Oh, a rare medication may you live long.
Travellers, in Pretence Sacrificed life, for law and order and tradition to live, celebrated daylight that you repulsed,
May you live long.
Within dark nights incomprehensible way, though instinct sort By juicy fragrance drawn never illusion'd by appearance you in pristine relationship Life prospered...
may you live long.
I, like you, To the world's eyes a creature, that hangs upside down.
It's a crime indeed
To hold firm in truth
and stand erect - when
The world'd turned upside down in lies.
Oh, Bat may you live long, Oh, my ambition, May you live long.
By: Vasudevan Translated by L.A. Leon

Page 6
THE PRICK OF CONSCIENCE
Mr.K. is very methodical about his daily routine, though he leads a retired life.
He gets up at half past four, with the pealing of the Vairavar temple bells. He takes an hour for his ablutions and prayers. Then, before dawn breaks, he is at the farm attending to his cattle and crops. He returns in time for breakfast. After that he goes to the market. Marketing is an important affair to him almost a ritual. There he meets his friends and catches up with the latest news. It takes about an hour.
On his way home, he buys the day's newspaper. He folds it neatly and puts it inside the bag lest someone sees it and begs to have a glance at it. Mr.K.doesn't like loaning his paper before he had read it from the first page to the last.
As soon as he returns home, he takes out the paper, keeps it on his table and then proceeds to the kitchen to hand over the day's purchase to his wife. After that, there'll be other chores and so on. Then, he goes to the well for a refreshing bath. “Unless you bathe well, the heat in the system will create complications...", he used to say,
He has his lunch at about half past one. After lunch, he goes to his easy - chair in the front verandah, shawl in one hand and newspaper in the other. Dusting the chair with his shawl, he would ease himself into the casy - chair, calling the names of the Almighty. Adjusting the spectacles, he would open the newspaper...
He likes the paper to be crisp with the smell of the printer's ink and newsprint, Mr.K. will read the paper in its entirely, leaving out not even a single line. After reading, be'll fold the paper neatly, place it beside him have a nap the next hour or so.
This habit formed an important part of his daily life. He enjoyed it and this gave him a sense of fulfilment. He though of what he was reading, sometimes even while reading and later discussed the information he had gleaned with his friends...
During the last fortnight, the life-patterns of many people in the peninsula had changed. And in some

cases, some had even lost their lives. However, Mr.K's life was not affected.
Today, too, Mr.K. had dusted the easy - chair and relaxed. Opening the paper, he felt the same uneasiness he had felt in the past few days. The paper carried news of bombing and fighting everywhere... People were suffering and dying.... It was a terrible time. People from places like Trincomalee were fleeing in large numbers. They had walked all the way to Mullaitivu and come to Jaffna by the boat loads.
The news disgusted him. He cursed himself for lying in comfort and reading such news. It's a sin A sin. Oh, God. Mr. K. got-up suddenly.
"Enna'Whatever has happened to you?.... ansked his wife, who was seated in the chair next to him, slicing as arecanut.
"Something's prickingmel....", he managed to say,
-A Santhan
L L L L
I gave my eyes to nature Wonderful paintings blossomed. I gave myears to nature It filled my heart with wonderful music I gave my mind to nature Wonderful poems came out into being. I gave myself wholly to it I became graceful, strengthened and Began to excel as a wonderful human.
For mysake I went in search of nature Forests got destroyed,
Brooks got dried up,
Mountains crumbled, The sea and the wind too lost their nature And the whole earth became polluted.
existed But as a sickening.
By: S.Jeyasankar Translated by: T.Kirupakaran.
LL LLL LLLL SLLLL LLS SLLLS SSZ SLLL LLLL SLLL LL Y LL S SLLLSS SZSZ S LLL SL LL SLL SLL S LL L0L SYS S L0L SLLLS L SSSS

Page 7
unum
arm
Ps
an
жырымы
stm
up
ar
-
THE VISION
In the reflected light That cleft and penetrated the sea Trips and falls a bird the shadows of the wings Struggle to be reflected On the trembling waves Glowing furnace of sea Centres in the heat The fist slip away As they slip and glide The light piercing and bumping Reflects through the scales
The sea swims in bliss Lulled on the lap of the wind The bird that fell in the sea Holding on the flies again,
K. Karunakarana, Translated by L.A. Leon.
LSSSLSSSSSSLSSSSSCSSSSSS SS SS SS SS SSLSLSLSS SSS SSS SSS LSS S
THE WOD
A. you opened the gate you could not but see the margosa
tree that stood in the compound of our house.
True, there are margosa trees in everyone's compound. Some are not even conscious that there's a margosa in their compound. Yet others think it a bother: by shedding its leaves and fruits, it litters the compound. To us, our margosa was something special, almost a member of the family. One's relationships need not be confined only to humans, need
they?
That margosa with its outspread boughs covered with soughing leaves seemed to caress us and
speak to us i
Whenever w
in its shade. rows, it seen
Our eldest margosa. M seated in a c homework c
I too sought tling the who caressing bri appreciative
On holidays lunch, havin an experien In between some friend
and all their
lie Under a
fortunate"
enviously, T Space to pla
I have anoth at everythin margosa wł with its can he dropped at the marg looks, like a
My wife w;
In the dayti tutories. I di evening. T she had fir that the sina heart-patiel
Our kitchel
the heat of ably hot. T cooking wat on a plate flow back

n an unfathomable languages.
e had some time to spare, our family used to relax Whenever we shared our joys and even our sorved to participate, siliently.
daughter was the one most intimate with that st of the time she was at home, she could be found hair or on the concrete slab in its shad, doing her r reading storybooks, with the radio switched on.
solace in the night under the margosa after wresle day with one problem after another: the gentle, zeze soothccd both my body and mind as I listcrud ly to the margosa's symphony.
and off- days, what a relief to sit in its shade after g disposed of whatever work had to be done! What :e to read a newspaper or a book in its cool shadel one could enjoy a snooze too. In a short while, s would gather: they had eyes only for the margosa talk would circle round it: "How blessed you are to margosa tree, book in hand; not everyone is so my friend Siva used to remark often, slightly here was no Margosa in his house nor even the
ft Ofę.
her friend, with artistic interests. Naturally, he looked g with an artist's eye. His eye was always on our ich stood upright, its boughs beyond one's reach, opy of leaves swaying in the wind. One morning in at home, after a drizzle. After gazing for a while osa, he remarked "How beautiful that margosapubescent girl after a bath." True, it was beautiful.
she one who had the most links with the margosa. me, the children would be out, either at school or ift home in the morning and returned only in the le margosa was the only refuge for my wife after shed her household chores. Someone had told her de of the margosa and its breeze were good for a it like her.
was a small one, roofed with tin sheets: this and he fireplace combined to make our kitchen unbearuring the hot season, it was hell. "The moment the finished, she would serve the last daughter's lunch ind hurry to the margosa. Only then life seemed to ato her.

Page 8
"That moment was a very happy one for the last child too, engrossed as she was in watching the pair of twittering jack-seed' birds flying around the nest they had built on a branch and the golden sequinas of light on the fallen leaves, formed by the sun's rays streaming through the foliage.
When the season for the margosa tree to shed its leaves came, the compound had to be swept frequently as the fallen leaves littered the ground. Only then my wife used to get a little angry and irritated, as with a naughty child.
There weren't many trees in our compound. Our house was roofed with asbestos sheets and the ventilation was poor. Therefore, during the daytime - especially in the hot season-staying inside the house was impossible. Whenever one was at home, one couldn't relax because the heat and the stickiness of the body made one irritable. How one longed then for a tree-especially a margoga - in the compound.
A firm decision was taken to somehow or other plant a margosa tree in the compound and tent it. Fortunately in the opposite compound there was a margosa sapling about which no one seemed to bother. When the ground was wet and loose after a slower, we uprooted it taking care not to damage the tap-root; as we were bringing it home, someone who was passing down the lane stopped and said something which is etched on our memory. “Thambi we won t live as long as tree; man will not give as such as a tree either.... and that too a margosa.... one has to be blessed to enjoy the margosa and its shade.... plant it carefully, thambi."
It was a terrible shock to us too, as it was to everyone else. If one has to quit one's home - and that too so suddenly-who wouldn't be shocked?
When all the others had begun to move out, how could be refuse to budge? The frightening explosion of bombs could be heard close by. When, like all the others, we left the house that overcast evening, with heavy hearts, carrying whatever we could, all our gazes were riveted on the nrigosa.

-
In that windless dusk, the margosa stood motionless and mournful, as never before. It bid us farewell, silently,
It was just our good luck that, with the help of a friend, we were able to get a house to stay in - at a time when the uprooted and displaccd had to seek refuge in the shade of trees or live in churches, temples and schools as best they could. The housc was a fairly convenient onc. The landlady too was very hospitable - a piece of good luck not enjoyed by everyone.
But there was one thing lacking - happiness. Exile from our house, our compound and the margosa in our compound filled us with a sense of alienation.
During the period of displacement, even the rains failed. A hot, burning sun beat down, as never before.
Though the house where we had found refuge was a convenient one, it was rather old. The ventilation was poor and the heat from the roof made things worse. Whether it was daytime or night, it was always stuffy. Even at night, the ground seemed to radiate heat. Then all our thoughts would go back to our margosa.
Our daughter used to remark frequently "If only We could sit under our margosa at times like this." Her words used to sadden us all. She was always like that, coming out with unseasonable views. "God alone knows whether our house has been blasted to bits by all these explosions we hear. Who knows whether our margosa is stagiding?"
However our mother's words soothed us all" "Chee, chee, nothing will happen ... as long as Nallur Murugan is there, there's nothing to fear".
冰冰冰冰 Жk Skok ※柬来冰 出妆来球
An undefinable emotion, blended of happiness, grief and fear, swayed us. Joy - that we were returning to our homes after six months, grief - at the loss of kith and kin and our belongings'. fearof what lay in store for us.

Page 9
Butjoy predominated: the happiness of being able to stretch ourselves out and relax in our homes.
On our way back strange faces, potholed-andcratered streets, house and buildings in ruins, fallen trees-all testified to war's fury. "Would our house too have escaped?" this was the question uppermost in all our minds.
The very appearance of our street had changed: fallen trees, the debris of buildings, the road buried under the over growth
Apprehensively, we turned into the small lane leading to our house. What an enormous relief Our house and the margosa had survived. Everyone was happy.
"Muruga" was all Ammamma could utter. Her eyes were moist. The fence was in tatters. A mountain of litter had buried the compound. When we sat under the margosa after sweeping the compound, all the tribulationan we had endured were forgotten and our minds felt at ease. Though several branches had been severed, the margosa had put forth new ones which spread more shade than before. The margosa's base appeared to be swollen. In one or two places, there were shellscars. In front of the house there was a crater probably caused by a bomb or shell whose flying fragments had pockmarked the front wall of the house, here and there.
冰冰冰冰 冰冰冰料 冰冰冰率 kak je »k 冰冰冰冰
It was a rather dark dawn. In a short while it grew blacker and it began to rain cats and dogs. Normally no one expects such a heavy showerin May.
Along with the heavy rain, a twisting wind began to blow furiously as if it were venting its wrath
f) SOCOC. That day I didn't go out anywhere. In fact, I had curtailed my going out. I went out only if it was strictly necessary. The office too hadn't begun to function properly. Life seemed to have become Cramped and confined. What could one do?

I spent the time watching the fury of the rain and the wind.
Though the rain had lessened a bit, it still remained dark and gloomy. But the fury of the wind hadn't abated one little bit.
It was when I was watching the trees swaying this way and that in the wind, that I heard the crackling sound (nara, nara") before a tree snaps and falls.
When I listened intently Ireleased that the sounds were coming from the foot of the margosa. The snapping sounds became louder. All of us looked with grief filled eyes at the margosa.
The rain-drenched margosa stood swaying in the wind, unconscious of the impending end.
We looked at each other's faces. The death of the tree was imminent, its fate irreversible.
The wind subsided a bit only to blow even more furiously. Padeer'': the sound struck our ears like a thunderbolt.
The uprooted margosa lay like an animal which had lain down on the ground unable to bear the weight of its body. The fallen tree filled all the space in the compound.
The wind too had fallen, as if its sole resolve was to uproot the margosa. With a heavy heart, I went up to base of the tree, skirting the branches; my eyes were riveted to the place where it had snapped: a large metal fragment from a sheet had firmly lodged there-the herald of Yam, the Lord of Death.
The margosa had borne that sheet -fragment in the belly of its base all these days.
"Perhaps it was determined to stay alive till we came back". Not only our compound, even our minds and hearts were left as empty as a void.
冰求※冰 来水冰冲 冰冰水 ※冰冰冰
- Sasi Krishamamoorthy

Page 10
La * R
ITHOUGHT ............... to be
YOU CALFD,...............
/A yi yai yor! "Are you just watching Ambi
playing sand?" Ambi was two when he put
the socks meant for his foot on his hands and
became lame.
Ayilyaiyori "Ambi's babbling something"
Ambi was four year, a snap with the fingers made his lips swollen for saying something that he didn't
understand.
"Doy Ambi,... . suffering from head ache .... ... get panadol and gingerbeer....... go along the side of the road. ... look on both sides and cross
the road.... ...... the shop keeper 'll cheat on the balance ... ... count and get the balance ... ..... . close the entrance door carefully and go........"
before Ambi passed the entrance door........... "You get in....."came from his father, Ambistood watching his father go with a soda bottle to the shop. Ambi was fifteen.
"Doy Ambi,.... there’ll be roundup, don't put of
jeens...put on shorts only then you'll look a small boy"
Ambi was eighteen when he rode on his father's cycle pillion in shorts to tuition class. When he got the "Thinnamurasu" from Rasathee of the opposite house..... "Why? You want to show that and this and pull my child to you?......."
The mother quarrelled. He watched Rasathee, in surprise, confronting his mother. He turned red in face and shy when Rasathee looked. Ambi was twenty-five. Ongoing to see a girl for Ambi.........
Ammah, I want to talk to your child.....", when asked for the girl's hand...." Get up ... you... Ambi ... this want suit our family... " Mother walked out brusquely.

Ambi was full of theethy smile... couldn't shut tight his mouth at the sudden change and the face turned crooked. Ambi was twenty-eight.
A wise saying "Experience is a wonderful comb, but by the time it reaches our hand we won't have any hair on our heads".
When parents realised that Ambineeded worldly experience the time had slipped away. He talked on his own and laughed and lived in his world of imagination.
What affected Ambi's imagination most was the history of king Kulakottu, which happened thousands of years before. Neither King Kulakottu nor his wife Arrdaka soundary did dominate Ambi's imagination but King Kulakottu's charioteer Mukilvannan and his wift Mullai did.
"The greatest hero who cut with mammoty sod in eight fold directions and cut the tree of seven span, tapped with a foot to load, yet before it fell, built, on earth a tank and thereinfilled with roaring waters” (Carving on Koneshar Rock)
The graceful hero who cut the earth on eight directions and cut a great tree of seven span, tapped to load with his foot and before it fell, he built on this earth a holy tank and filled it full with wa
ter.....
Ah, Ha, oh! Wonderful king. How could praise your patience" Mukilvannadn stood aghast watching the widespread and expanded Kanthalai tank. Heard, suddenly the hoof beat of horses. The King's chariot passed Mukilvannar swiftly.
"Stop the chariot", shouting Mukilvannan ran fast behind the chariot the chariot stoped. The king alighted from the chariot and walked along the Anicut towards the slew. Mullai jumped off the chariot waving her hand. Ah Ha This indeed is the greatness of a wife. May you be blessed, you who charioted the chariot of the king in my absence".

Page 11
So saying, ran Mukilvannan towards Mullai. his wife... seeing Mukilvannan come running... Mullai too ran... Mukilvannan chased... Mullai ran ... the thick forest approached.
"Oh goddess of the forest. Mullai, where do you run stop, stop,"
..."Thuwandaeppa Thuwanda eppa' (Don't run)
The army that came chasing caught Ambi- Arbi
was arrested for attempting to Blast Kanthalai Tank with bombs, but released later as being mentally affected.
At the kings palace; Mukilvannan waited on the chariot, for the King's arrival. There was delay............. whatever that delayed the king's
coming.......?
Being on the chariot Mukilvannan watched the palace balcony...................... "Addada, Isn't that my fairy on the balcony, Mukilvannan waved his hands toward the balcony... Mullai waved from there. Mukilvannanjumped off the chariot and leapt the steps of the balcony not seeing Muliai on the balcony Mukilvannan searched hither and thither............. The police carried off Ambi who went on the water tank mumbling Mullai....... Mullai... ..
Ambi was accused of attempting to poison the public water tank. The judge..." Why did you climb the water tank?"
"Your Majesty...... I know of no offence......... I searched for Mullai on the balcony. The guards have brought me here..... ."
The judge put his hand on his head, then ordered to produce the case with a medical report.
Ambi was freed on the production of the medical report which proved his mental affliction.

as V. A V g . Sr ' 7*
"The temple, belled walls and Tower - the beautiful undamaged garden of flowers" (Carving on
knoesher Rock) Ah, Ha!............ wonderfull...... ... wonderful........ Your majesty......... your
service is indeed great? ...Mukilvannan sat forgetting himself in the nanthavanan.
"Ada. my cookoo bird, the song bird of my paradisc. where have you gone? When at this peak of Kobesharfestival, where has Mullaigone? So pondering within himself" Mullai cont quickly, the pooja is going to start".....Towlasses, one companion dragging another by her hand went fast.....
"Adi Mullai when I'm here, where are you going? So saying..... . . . . . Mukilvannadn suddenly grabbed Mullai's hand.
Palarl (Slap) Ambi held his cheek. "That poor one is insane. Why did you slap? One companion rebuked the other.
"Adi Mullai is it you slapped me?. Answer me and go' .... ................ Again Ambitried to get near the group of women. Ambi was ridiculed and pushed out by the temple guards.
"...Your majesty.... Is this your kind justice?...you took my Mullai, away from me and attacked me with your guards.... Majesty is this your kingly justice?"
Ambishouted aloud. The echo of the voice vibrated from low to very high pitch of different
tones.
Madness has worsened............ Is Ambi mad?
“Neer Allaithathaha oru Gnapagam”
W.Gowrypalan Translated by: L.A.Leon.

Page 12
ENGLISH THEATRE IN BATTICALOA
In considering the English theatre in Batticaloa, the there an English theatrical tradition in Batticaloa". an English theatrical tradition outside educational never seem to have existed a drama society or club to the question "Did schools in Batticaloa stage Er the past experience of English plays in schools, it c Batticaloa existed in some leading schools in the t College, Vincent Girls' High school, Methodist C existed a tradition of staging scenes from Shakes
Some over-used escape literary plays other than sc ing Hood, the Sleeping Beauty and Snow-White stages at most school functions. They are still in th school functions.
The prevalent stage in the English theatrical traditic
by Tissa Jeyatilaka in his address "Sri Lankan dran the English theatre of Sri Lanka is the natural outco is a tradition brought by the British to Sri Lanka absorbed by the locals, are confined to those that too struck roots in the very congenial surrounding intelligentsia of the land which were quick to accep western taste that they deemed fashionable".
The use of role plays and then dramas to motiva popular in schools in and after 1986 with the Mini school, district, provincial and national level Engl. easy accessibility, simplicity, and popularity, the ab staged.
In the past few years, English drama stages in common, over-used traditional stage presentation adapting storics into stage plays actually done as during the training period - has enabled some ent English drama competitions One such adaptation Nirmali Hetiarachi. Sirmilarly sections from Tre; staged by students of Methodist Central College a
From the series of one act plays The Bisho's ca School, "The proposal" by Anton Chokov and an the Batticaloa Delic trainees in 1995. There may Several reasons could be considered for this b
l. Those involved in the production of Shake English Medium educated teachers familiar mostly from students who had done English participated year after year in different plays
2. Most of the new generation of English teach
confidence to handle Shakespearan plays not have the ability to memorize and preser from going in for Shakespearean plays.
3. Although, the general audience are attracted stand Shakespearean anguage and the ove

AND ITS RECENT DEVELOPMENTS
foremost question that comes to my mind is, "Is The answer I think, is yes and no. If we look for institutions, the answer probably is no. There independent of any institution. On the other hand glish plays", the response is positive. Drawing on :ould be said that an English theatrical tradition in own (namely St Michael's College, St. Cecilia's entral College, and Shivananda MV). There has bearean plays at special school functions.
enes from Shakespeare, like Cindrella, Red Rid; and the Seven dwarfs have been continuously e forefront as popular means of entertainment at
n can be related to the common factor referred to a in English". "The state of affairs that we find in ome of a historical fact. Western dramatic literature ; and just as much as most other "things British" form the urban sector of our society, this tradition is provided for it by urbanized Western-oriented it uncritically, and quicker to ape those nuances of
te the teaching and learning of English becGifie stry of Education taking the initiative to organise ish drama competitions. Due to time constrains, ove mentioned popular plays have constantly been
3atticaloa have seen a slight deviation from the ls. The experiences of the DELIC graduates in an enrichment activity in language development husiastic teachers to stage such adaptations for the was the short story “The Diamond Necklace” by sure Island and Oliver Twist were adapted and nd St.Michacl's College respectively.
indle stick" was presented by Vincent Girls' High other play "The Richmond Hotel: were staged by le still others that I am not aware of.
reak away from the usual Shakespearean plays.
spearean plays were the older generation of with such plays and the language. The casts were
elocution and often the same set of students making it easy for the directors / teachers to train. ars, either, are not familiar with or do not have the ind the students who are not fluent in English do t the dialogue. This actually discourages teachers
by the movements and actions, they fail to under -accented elocution English.

Page 13
To date, stage directions have been done by English teachers who have had a little or no stage experience, nor were they aware of proper theatrical techniques involved. The teachers did what they thought was best to make the presentations entertaining even cinematic style and movements were used in stage plays. These producers/ teachers often failed to make the casts internalize the characters or to make them understand their role in relation to the whole play. These lapses on the part of the directors made the characters ineffective.
Myintention here is not to denigrate the excellent contribution made by English teachers for English theatre in Batticaloa but to emphases the need for creating awareness in theatrical techniques and stage performance. In this frame of reference, if would be gratifying if the Fine Arts Department of Eastern University, Sri Lanka take the initiative to educate and encourage the school teachers for better stage performances in the future.
While tracing the English theatrical tradition in Batticaloa. I consider it relevant to review Riders to the sea' performed at the Fine Arts theatre, Eastern University on 19 November 1997.
Ideem that a new dimension and transitional phase for English drama in Batticaloa has been prompted by Mr. S.Jeyashankar of the Department of Fine Arts, in collaboration with the English Language Teaching Unit (ELTU), of the Eastern University through the play "Riders to the Sea" by Synge. I am sure it was a challenging venture and calls for the commendation of the principal, teachers and students of St.Cecilia's College who came forward to work out on this experimentation.
On the whole "Riders to the Sea" has a success story and this was reflected in the behaviour of the audience who physically and emotionally accepted this temporarily as the real world.
The stage production of "Riders to the Sea" has gone through various phases of proper theatrical aspects thus making it the first play to experience organised development, so I would consider this to be a mile stone in the English theatrical tadition in Batticaloa, I hope this would pave the way for better and more stage persentation in English in the future.
L.A. eor,

Oh, Bat, may you live long, worldly path denied, you that make your own, Such individuality, Oh, my guide, May you live long.
"You're in everything upside down" thus , my family when rebukes Oh, a rare medication may you live long.
Travellers, in Pretence Sacrificed life, for law and order and tradition to live, celebrated daylight that you repulsed,
May you live long.
Within dark nights incomprehensible way, though instinct sort By juicy fragrance drawn never illusion'd by appearance you in pristine relationship Life prospered .... may you live long.
l, like you, To the world's eyes a creature, that hangs upside down.
It's a crime indeed To hold firm in truth and stand erect-when The world'd turned upside down in lies.
Oh, Bat may you live long, Oh, my ambition, May you live long.
Vasudevan.
LL LSL LLLLL qSL LSL SL LL LSL SLLLL LL LLL LLLLLS LLL LLLL LSL LLLLL SLLL LSLS S LSL L L L SLS L S SL SS TC Y SLSS LSLS S LS LS S LS S LLL S qq SS q SSAS

Page 14
Man:
Woman:
The Swaggerer:
THE MAN W
nan n—
(A rather free adaptation of a
(Ahut in a forest clearing. Du
(looks middle-aged, a rather no back here.
(Slightly stooped, somewhat ol, him, he never barks like this.
(The door of the hutis kickedv man hurriedly opens it. A unifo
Listen you old man and old her law. (He motions to his compa
Halfan hour later, after searching every nook anc return and announce they haven't found anything
Swaggerer:
Woman:
Swaggerer:
Woman:
Swaggerer:
Woman:
Okay, untie the. Listen, you old not? Answer me. Sayyes' or n
(The man keeps mum. The sw: loses patience and slaps the má
moans nor utters a word).
(falls at the swaggerer's feet an man. He is slightly deaf. I'll car
First, get us all a good cup oft
Yes, sir.
Ah, that was a really nice cup c with chicken curry.
Yes, sir.
This routine goes on day and night, for several y sional orders to sweep the hut, the compound and with these chores, taking pity on her. Then one d Swaggerer and his companions escape through th the front door. One of them shoots the swagg searching the couple and the hut, the attackers 1
Man: (to woman): Dear, help me to lift this lout's
Man:
carry the swaggerer's corpse to
(as they roll the body out, the

HO SAID NO"
Brechtian parable)
k is falling. The furious barking of a dog)
ndescriptindividual):Jimmy, Jimmy, shutup, come
ler than her husband): Something must have upset
iolently several times. Before it is kicked down, the
(med man swaggers in surrounded by bodyguards).
... I am boss around here. Do you hear? My word is nions to tie up the couple and search the hut)
corner of the hut and the compound outside, they
fool. I am the boss. Willyou carry out my orders or o'
iggerer insists on an answer several times finally in hard, sending him scrawling, The man neither
d begs him): Please don't hit him sir. He is a good ry our all your commands.
C役。
f tea. Good, now prepare us a very good dinner,
2ars. The only variation is about menu and occamake the beds. The man sometimes helps his wife ly suddenly there is heavy firing close to the hut. :back door, agroup ofarmed men burst in through rer before he can draw his pistol. After hurriedly ave in hot pursuit of the swaggerer's companions.
ody and throw it out. (Both of them half drag, half he entrance).
han in a firm voice) : My answer is 'no'.
A.J. Canagaratna

Page 15
THE MAN who PUT THE
Book review:
(Tambimutu: Bridge Between two v
"Bliss was in that dawn to be alive/But to be young was very heaven". It might seem on the face of it hyperbole to apply Wordsworth's ecstatic outburst to delight at the appearance of a mere poetry magazine, But that is how we felt about Poetry London in the early days of the Second World War- those of us, that is, who were teenage novices and bursting to break into print,
It was the end of a decade of poetic squabbling the New Apocalypse rising to confront the grey eminence of the Pylon Poets, Julian Symons' Twentieth Century Verse standing aloof and Geoffrey Grigson's New Verse pouring acid on the whole boiling. Into this petty world there sailed a vision, a dream called Tambimuttu who had the chutzpah to proclaim that "every man has poetry within him".
We all went quietly mad and sent our poems to Tambi by the cartload. Sometimes there was actually an acknowledgment, saying that our hero had liked what he seen, What better excuse, then, to visit him in the tiny crowded office that his publishers Nicolson and Watson had given him at Craven House in Kingsway, London.
By now a year, perhaps two, had gone by. We were different on leave from the Forces. But Tambi had not changed. Beautiful, shy yet friendly, he made it seem as if you were the sole object of his attention. The heart sank, perhaps, at what seemed like hundreds of other people's manuscripts piled in disorder around him, but a quick trip round the corner to The Princess Louise and the sinking a quite remarkable number of pints brought eternal friendship and the promise of publication.
Who was Tambi? What was he, that all his friends commend him? He was a Jaffna Tamil, born in 1915 in Ceylon who came to England in 1938 and almost immediately made him self a leading figure in the London literary scene, His family was Catholic and prominent, an uncle having been distinguished Tesuit lexicographer,
But Meary James, as he was christened, preferred to think of himself as a Hindu, and took to calling himself "Thurai Rajah",
In London, Tambi made Fitzrovia. He was always sogende and enthusiastic that one felt one would do anything for him, but there was another side to his nature which is touched on by one of the contributors to Tambimuttu, a

HUTZPAHINTO POETRY
orlds - Edited by Jane Williams)
collection of poems and pieces about him edited by Jane Williams, Grover Amen quotes himself as telling Tambi that he was a "crazy, drunken conartist... a lost, soul a misfit.
True, of course. He drank himself silly and produced nothing of his own that was memorable. The long poem called "Gita Sarasvati", which appears at the end of William's book and which she calls certainly my favourite of all his writings', is a prosy attempt to expound Hindu philosophy, clumsily derivative from The Four Quarters.
As am editor, however, Tambimutu was superb. He produced the most inspiring and attractive magazine of verse that Britain had seen since Georgian poetry. T.S. Eliot smiled on the project and everyone appeared in its pages, from Dylan Thomas, Stephen Spender and Kathleen Raine to the least unknown who had produced a poem which caught Tambi's eye,
That was the secret of his success. Although he was an incorrigible name-dropper, he was also a true democrat, His "nose", as he called it, led him to publish, among the 62 books of Editions Poetry London, Nabokov's The Real Life of Sebastian Knight, Henry Moore's Shelter Sketch Book, and Henry Miller's The Cosmological Eye.
Fifty years after his initial impact on London literary life and six years after his death it is good to be reminded of what he did - although not all of the 70 pieces printed in Williams' collection are worthy to have seen the light of day. Apart fromfriends in the early days such as Patricia Ledwood, Nicholas Moore and well-known names like Iris Murdoch and Mulk Raj Anand, it is irritating not to know who all these people are. At the price, also, an index would not have been Out of order,
The editoris described as "a close friend" of Tambi muuttu for the last 10 years of his life, But the 60 year old Tambi that she knew was not the free spirit who delighted us in the 1940's, His time in the US was not a success and when he returned to England it was clear that the rot had set in.
Man does not live by charm alone, and all the king's horses and all the king's could not put Tanvi together again. Williams, who has keen eye done her best and perhaps this is not more than could have done, Gossip keeps Tambi's memoryalive; judgement would have been harsher.
-Geoffrey Moore From Lanka Guardian.

Page 16
- - - - - - - - - - - ---------------- سمر | WILLAWATYOU.
Most handsome Aththaan
Here I, your ever-loving
Paarimachchaarldo write,
At close of harvestin April is set, our marriage to be S0 said Ammaarchi,
and so do I write
In the Paatty the Vali pasu,
brought forth a calf a male, So, your name have I given and thus call him by For Vattyyaddy Wyravar A pongal on coming Monday, By cart, we all do go. So, do come along,
For Maththalam and kuthu folklore, a kalari", set up in the centre,
In Chiththirai, in our village, Right round muspathy
Om full moon, a rehersal in Salangi And the Pariyari Kudi poosai For Waalaveeman Kuthu,
Annavi is Nallathamby,
Thrashing on Kalam fulfilled, Paddy stacks, the abodes fill On the moonlit fields Youths'll champion Killithattu. On the muchchanthi tarmarin the village'll on swings dance, Chththirai does draw near, lso you, do come along.
A shell, falling did ward
Perriyappa at the big hospital.
At moothappa's junction has mushroomed a sentry point, Mariamman Poosari.
Succumbed to army fire.
Dobring, without fail
Your identity.
| Pattie miled ghee
melted in chatti
Delicious delicacies-in
Ariyatharam and sohi served On leaf out spread on Vaddil Sweetened in vellam,
Like solid curd like,
Do Í here await, please do--do cone.
A. S. Paiva, Translated by: L. A. Leom ܠ
LLSSMSSSML0L S LTqSqSqSq SS SSLSLS S SLSLSLMLSS SLMSSLLSgLSS SS SS S ALALTTSS SSSS SLSSSLS S SSMSMSSSS SS S S STLSSTSTSSSSS
|
C
M
P
M
M

ULTURE RELATED WOCABULARY
ththaan - Male Second Cousin
(to be husband).
laami - Second auntiet
- (Father's sister)
aari - Name
Eachchaarl - Female Second Cousin
mmarchi - Second Uncle
(Mother's brother)
atty - Cattle pen
ali Pasu - Cow named Valli
attyaddy Vyrava - Deity - of the place watty
Ongal - milk rice with lot of
sweet a fold drumkuthya fold on the from of tythemic dance recital
alari - arena (circular shape)
hiththraí - month of Aprilsoon after
harvest, Time of Plenty
Muspaathy - Fun and frolic,
alangai - A string of small bud
like bells arranged in rows to be tiedon to the legs of dancers.
ariyari Kudipoosai - Native physicians
family religion service
aalaveemankuthu - Valeveetman - a characttir
in the epic maha Bratham.
nnavi - one who directs kuthu.
allazn – - separated from the straw.
illithattu - Village game
suchchanthi - Tjunction
erriyappa - elder brother of father
1oothappa - grandfather
fariamman Poosari - Name of a hindu priest
hatti - clay pot
Ariyatharam, sohi -sweets made of sweetened
rice flour, baked in oil.
Paddill - a tray like high rimmd
plate, made of Brass felazı - Jaggery.

Page 17
EQUIPOISE
Wi: the precautions one took, however careful one was, the mistake recurs. He noticed it only when he tried to lock his bicycle.
The cycles' lock was missing.
It was a very old cycle, a Raleigh which had been bought in 1972 for Rs.140l.
There was no guarantee that an old cycle wouldn't be stolen. The fear that the cycle would be stolen had made him devise a lock for the cycle- a one and a half foot long chain, a red-coloured rubber hose of the same length and an old padlock.
Though that lock had been devised for the cycle, his wife used it at home to serve several purposes: to lock the fowl-run at night, or to lock the front gate if the padlock usually used for the purpose had been misplaced,
He remembered she had taken it last night to lock the fowl-run.
Cursing his wife inwardly, he was wondering what
to do when a thought suddenly strike him.
If the bike can be left in a neighboring house, it'll be safe.
Wheeling the bicycle, he came to the main road, It looked as if there was no house which would satisfy his fancy. He hesitated for a short while and then peeped into that small house with a single gate. There was no one insight. Without thinking any further, he wheeled his bicycle inside.
Just then that little girl- she may have been nine or ten-came out. She was dark and her limbs Were spindly. Her face, however, was chubby and vivacious. Her eyes were large and perpetually smiling. She looked at him affectionatoly.
He took a liking for her at very first sight. She Was Wearing a cotton dress with faded red dots. Her sweet glance seemed to ask what he wanted.
"There's no lock for the cycle.... that's why... can
I leave ithere and go?... I have to go for a funeral nearby...."
The young princess merely nodded assent,

"Where are the grown-ups?"
"Amma has gone to the kade".
Did she mean her mother or the mistress of the house when she referred to amma, he wondered.
He was a bit confused. He couldn't pluck up the courage to ask. He parked the cycle along the eastern wall, taking care that the seat did not rub against the cement, and went Out,
At the funeral house, Paranthamna's colleagues on the teaching staff and his students - both boys and girls - outnumbered the kith and kin.
The thought of his tragic death troubled him. "How cruel that death should come to him at thirty one. There was a growing intimacy between him and Eeaswar.......... they were to have been married in a couple of monuhs.... why had all these hopes been shattered?"
His enthusiasm, his dedication to work, his ability to teach according to the capacities of his pupils.... all these had been made meaningless by a single bullet......"
Many were of the opinion that he had been killed in the crossfire. But some whispered. No, no he had some links, that's why....."
(Whatever the cause, his death had been inevita ble, the cause of grief).
Just inside the entrance, he lay stretched in a coffin. When he looked at him, he felt as if someone had struck him hard on the chest and the face. The crucity of his death assailed him as a fellow human being. Troubled in mind, he came out and sal on the verandah after viewing the corpse.
Within a few minutes of his coming out, the funeral procession began.
When he was debating within himself whether to go to the crematorium or not, it was Pasipathy who almost dragged him to the crematorium.
Are the smell of blood and the stench of corpses to be the fate of this soil? How long is such an abnormal life going the last?"

Page 18
LSL S LLLL SLALSLLL LSLS S LSLLSL S LLLLLLLALLL SLL LLL AALK LLqAAA S LLLLL L LLLLALSqS AALLLLSLL LLLL LLLLSLLALLLL SLL L qLALS
Though it was afternoon, he could hear somewhere in the distance the poopala raga wafted over the radio.
How absurd......... ! Why is everything so topsyturvy....? When will life regain its order and harmony .... ..? Will everything become a distant dream...........
As the funeral procession got on to the main road,
he remembered his bicycle. His glance strayed to the small house. The cycle was exactly where he had left it.
He felt ashamed that the should have though of his bicycle in the midst of such grief.
The crematorium lay in a vast expanse where the blue sky, the dark sea and the earth met and embraced one another.
When the tongues of flame licked at Paranthamnan's body, he shivered slightly and his eyes became moist. All his feelings seemed to have become frozen. He looked at Pasupathy who was talking animatedly with someone.
Why is it that nothing seems to have touched Pasupathy?"
As they left the crematorium, it began to rain. He sought shelter in Pasupathy's umbrella.
"It's a passing cloud, machchan. It'll cease soon". "This life, its meaning.... are they all passing clouds?"
He was surprised by his philosophical probing into the nature of life and death.
Pasupathy chattered away, without showing sign of fatigue. He couldn't be like that. His mind was like a bird with a broken wing.
When the rain ceased, patches of blue sky could be glimpsed in the east. How soon the sky had cleared up. He felt the pressures on his mind easing.
As they came to the main road, he took leave of Pasupathy.
He remembered his bicycle.
'Would the tyres be deflated....? That girl.... her

brother may have tampered with the value tube.............
He felt as if he had emerged from a dream and once again stepped into the normal world.
The sense of weariness had not left him though.
house where he had left his cycle.
The cycle had been taken and carefully left under the sunshade' to prevent its getting Wet,
Whose handiwork was this?... Could that child have moved it... . it would have been difficult for her....... supposing she had got hurt if it fell on her-when she tried to take it......... or world she have bruised herself trying to wheel it..............
As he took the cycle, she came running out, wiping her wet hand on her frock.
甄
"It was raining..... That's why........
"What if it rained, child? Why did you take all this trouble?"
His broken heart made whole again, he looked at her with affection.
She seemed to him life's meaning, the bearer of life's continuing flame.
Gratitude gushed up in him; he patted her, head fondly and took leave of her.
He opened the gate; when he tried to take the cycle out, it struck against the gate.
"Be careful when you take it out............ the pedal will strike"
He looked back. She stood there, her face dim
pled with smiles.
Only after he had come out, it struck him that he had forgotten to find out the child's name.
Everything comes to you belatedly...... He recalled his wife's off repeated utterance.
If I come a again to Colombogam, I must make it a point to look up this child and find out her name. "He made a mental note of this.

Page 19
He felt his mind was spreading out its wings in elation. The mental worry caused by Paranthaman's death seemed to ease gradually. Everything appeared beautiful to
The grace of the girl who cycled past him in the opposite direction, the maturity manifested in the face of a small boy who was carrying a load too heavy for him, the gaiety of the school in uniform riding abreast, their hands on each other's shoulders the beauty of an unknown girl glimpsed God alone known when in the bus that turned at Bastina's Junction, all these filled him with delight.
It was as if he was experiencing all the marvels and beauties of the world.
Forgetting himself, he trod on the cycle pedal, humming a sarukesi raga. The cycle
seemed to gather unusual speed. He felt as if he was floating on air.
Translated by: A. J. Canagaratne
本 本
率 寮》 冰
sk 冰
LLSS SLL L S SYS SLLLLLS SYSLLS SLLLL SSYSLLLL S SLLLSSSSYSSSYS SLL S SY
Politi London and caught
started in 1939 b Tambimutu, wł influential literar money by subscri gift enabled the issues, starting N until 1942; issue
came out in 1943 1944. By that tim ing venture, Ed Nicholson and W. did not, howeve then Nicholson a expensive; but Ta' March and the editors for issues Marchtook con until its twenty-tl
Tambimuttu had Poetry London couple of years. Magazine, with died in 1983.
The early issued all by Tambima spontaneous, inc criticized New of the 1930s, as the New Roiman the amount of 1 Among the poet. Wright, Kathlk Hamburger. Tan Spencer, Raine, 1937-43 and Du nize the taientoi
Tribute is mad Between Two W
ATTotly
From: The Oxf Englisih
Edited by: Ian

Fifth issue of the THIRD EYE - May 1998
POETRY LONDON
, was the leading poetry magazine of the 1940s much of the character of the decade. It was y Anthony Dickins and the Ceylonese James no became one of the most colourful and y figures of the period. The founders raised ption for six issues, but this ran out after two. A magazine to appear bimonthly for four more ovember 1940. Issues 7 and 8 did not appear 9 3; and issue 10, in the form of a large book, in Le Tambimuttu was engrossedina new publishitions Poetry London, under the imprint of atson; they also supported Poetry London, which I, appear again until the autumn of 1947. By ind Watson had begun to find the venture too mbimuttufound a new backerin Richard March. : poet Nicholas Moore appeared as associate 14 and 15; after which, in the autumn of 1949, trol of Poetry London and edited it with Moore hird and final issue in the Winter of 1951.
returned to Ceylon in 1949. In 1956 he started - New York; but again money ran out after a His final try was Poetry London / Apple a first issue in 1979 and a second in 1982. He
of Poetry London opened with "Letters', almost ittu in which he argued for a poetry that was antatory, and responsive to the unconscious. He Verse, a main organ of the social-realist poetry advocating a Poetry London became a Voice of ticism of the 1940s (see New Apocalypse); yet ubbish published by Tambimuttu was small. ; whose W.S. Graham, David 'en Raine, Lawrence Durrell, and Michael bimuttu published the first books of Bernard nd Wright, aswellas David *Gascoyne'sPoems rrell's Cefalu. He was among the first to recog
Keith Douglas.
; to his achievements in Tambimuttu: Bridge ords, ed J. Williams, (London 1989).
ord Companion Tewntieth Century Poetry in
familton Oxford University Press 1994.
幽 必,必 性 强 动 *
至 经 三 ä * ö 叠 兹 卧 鼎 a a s a a a s a sa n o e r s a * * * *

Page 20
THE CUCKOO'S HOUSE
he distant burst of a shell brought him back to earth from his reverie.
Even the cuckoo was shocked. The bird raised its head and listened for a second. Its eyes glittered like two red beads. With the agility of a snake, the cuckoo-with a shiny black sheen sprinkled with white spots-slipped into the thick foliage and disappeared.
This tree is a multi-storied house for these birds. From its perfectly upright tall trunk branches radiated in all directions at regular intervals. The treet is on the other side of the wall, but very clost to the boundary and shady. The people of his uncle's household living on this side enjoyed the shade nort. It sheltered the verandah and the courtyard from the hot fore-noon sun.
Again there was another blast. Then, a third followed within a minute. His ears listened for any further explosions.....
He has seen cuckoos only in this tree and has been watching them almost from the first day of his coming here. Two of them are pure black while the other two were spotted. They look for the ripe berries on the tree, peck them, go whenever and wherever they want and return. They five here. One may hear their chirping and the flapping of their wings even during the middle of the nights. What a simple and trouble-free life
His house was in the directions from where the sounds of explosions came. The shelling started a month ago and within this month, five or six of the houses in their village have been razed to the ground. But, luckily, all the people had evacuated the place on hearing the first sound of gun fire. That was the only way for them to save their lives.
The people came to this place with whatever they could carry. They thought this place was safe They sought refuge went in search of temples o

schools. What would have happened to his house now?
To have a house of his own was a long-standing ambition in his life. It became a reality only a couple of years ago, after long toil. But, now-? Would he be able to go back to his house one day and live there again with his family? He heaved along sigh.
He felt like an alien in this place, although his uncle and uncle's family were kind and considerate to him and his family. He felt stifled. He could do nothing and, worse still, he could see nothing ahead. It was intolerable.
He spent the major part of the day in this veramdah, starting at the blue sky or watching this tree.
...He shuddered. This time the sound was close. No, wasn't shell, but some heavy object striking a hard surface.
With the second thud that seemed to emerge from the other side of the wall, he noticed the tree shivering and the small yellow leaves falling...
What? Someone cutting down this tree? he wondered. The sound continued. But, why? What's the purpose? It's timber will not be any use even to cover a bunker: The poor birds.... What'll happen to the house of theirs? Where'll they go?
He couldn't bear it. He wanted to shout over the boundary wall: "Don't fell the tree:"The irapulse was so strong that he got up.
But, suddenly, he sat down again on the steps and burst into fitful sobbing.
A. Santa.
(Author of 7 collections of stories, å hovei ånd travelogue in Tamil; and a collection of stories in English. 'The Sparks'. Engineering Technician by profession)

Page 21
Book Review
Paleface rather than Redski
mong Souvenirs- a novel by Regi siriwarder
tudies, Colombo, Rs.200/-
This is Regi Siriwardena's second novel and bluu readers may find it surprising that it is by the sam
Regi's second novel differs from his first, The L more complex and rounded than The Lost Lenore all it was a tale which set out to prove, as it were, to have overlooked this aspect of The Lost Leno wooden and stilted.
Apart from characterisation, Regi's second novel wider The blurb helpfully informs us that the "nar intertwines the destinies of the characters with th containing within them the seeds of conflict and
Both novels exhibit a fluent narrative skill and R then?
The Lost Lenore is, selfconfessedly, hybrid in foi M Souvenirs an autobiographical novel? No, say personal realm, this is not an autobiographical used fragments of personal experience here and characters and interwoven with imagined event corned to keep the first person narrator's family things different from mine." It could hardly be ca the characters are intertwined with the political e
What Among My Souvenirstries to do is to fuse ti political events and social divisions impinge on a public school to the Varsity. Does the author suc Not fully, in my opinion. The author's strategy particular use make of it here that has gone away
The Strongest parts of the novel are those where h anglicised private school, and the Varsity (his evc larly sharp). His description of the school, its sta especially 1956. This section and Michael Ondaa Sinhala reader like me why the 1956 Ballot Rev.
two nations".
Ajith Samaranayake (Sunday Observer, Deemb

la, published by the International Centre for Ethnic
b tells us it is "one so different from his first that
e writer."
ost Lenore (1996) in that it's characterisation is whose characterisation was deliberately flat (after the thesis' of hybridity). Some readers who seem re complained that they found parts of the dialogue
doesn't set out to prove any thesis and its canvas is rative, spanning the years between 1936 and 1958, e political events and social divisions of that time, violence."
egi's style is pellucid. Wherein lies the difference
rm, in keeping with its thesis of hybridity. Is Amon is the author. In the Author's note, he says "In the novel. Although, like many other novelists, I have l there, these have been distributed among several s and relationships. I have been particulary consituation, early upbringing and attitudes to many Eled a political novel either, though the destinies of vents and social events or that time (1936-1958)
he personal and the social-political by showing how group of characters who move up from an elite ceed in fusing the personal and the public realms? is basically correct not the strategy per se but the
1.
le vividly evokes the atmosphere of Bethlehem, the }cations of the Geyser and the Grinder are particuif and students, foreshadows the events to come tie's Running In The Family make it clear to a nonolution was inevitable: the Sinhalese were virtually
er 14, 1997) in his review of the novel renaiks "In

Page 22
that sense he is at his best in dealing with the per central failing of the work in the sense that there political." I'm afraid, I have to agree.
The first person narration while making for a cert as far as the narrator, David Shelton Gunaward inevitable as far as the other characters are concer a rather tenuous one, at the level of plot, though I it sound plausible enough.
After a silence of more than ten years, Mark writ telling him about his inner transformation and in concluding lines of his letter turn out to be prophe some outbreak of communal violence at some po: I would be labelled a Tamil, though I feel no mc However that possibility does't and won't trouble
Mark's letter is Regi's sophisticated, modern versi to link his characters (Mark and Girlie, a victim c Tamil race riots of 1958.
It's ironic but quite in keeping with his character felt no more Tamil than Sinhala or Patagonian or said Yes, Im a Tamil when questioned by a gango it with his life.
The limitations of the novel are those of the auth her class background. Regiis no exception, desp In my view, the problem with this novel is that it there had been a dialectic between Paleface and R
Litt.
 

sonal relationships and events and this I feel is the is no satisfactory synthesis of the personal and the
ain inwardness (especially in the moving Epilogue) 2ne, is concerned, also makes a certain externality ned. Apart from this, there is no organic fusion and grant that Regi's sureness of narrative toucí makes
es to David Shelton in 1957 (the year is signifcant) forming him that he'll be returning to Ceylon. The tic: "I suppose if Ireturned to Ceylon and there was int where I was, I could be a victim merely tecause ore Tamil than Sinhalese or Patagonian or Eskimo. me. I am trying to live without attachment to life."
on of the deus ex machina, which helps the incvelist of mistaken identity, in this instance) with the anti
hat Mark who had written to David saying that he Eskimo should have drawn himself up and defiantly fhoodlums on an anti-Tamilrampage, and paid for
or's class. No one can completely transcent his or ite his flair for narration and technical dexterity,
is essentially a Paleface's version of the period. If edskin, the novel might have been a finer achieve
АЈ.Canagaratna

Page 23
While penning an elaborate letter to your query abc pilliar the war was broke out. Continuous and constant displacementLacking permanent address - No respite to sit down and pen a letter. At this moment I am writing this letterAfter recovering from a fearful attack of malaria
esort
My Pilia Preseny have sud Jeysanka single in Here it is Pilaiaris
/ ومت محمد چشتیہ سو چھینی چھچھتہ
 
 

ut
r of 96 (about 30) have all migrated to Jaffna after the malaria Pillaiar of 97-JayasikruiPillaiar denly blasted high and have started to arrive.
r, to all queries about Pillaiar I will answer in a
AA by
my war-painting.
Y M. Nilanthan

Page 24
Thir
Fifth Issue
Advisor
Mr. R. Mu Mr.A.J.Can
Editoria
Mr S.Jey Ms.N.V.R
Publication of th
For Contacts:
S.Jeyasankar Dept. of Fine Arts Fuculty of Arts & Cult Eastern University, Sri Chenkaladi Sri Lanka.
e.mail : SankarGleastu.esn.ac.lk

Eye
May 1998
y Board
|rugaiyan agaratnan
Board
rasankar
ajapillai
e English Forum
re