Page 1
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PUBLICATION OF TH
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Seventh issue of the THIRD EYE - Janu
THIRD EYE
Seventh Issue
Advisory Board
Mr. R. Murugaiyan Mr. A.J. Canagaratna Mr. T. Kirupakaran Mr. S.M. Felix
Mr. L.A. Leon
Editorial Board
Mr. S. Jeyasankar Ms. N.V. Rajapillai
Publication of the English Forum)
FOI COnfOCfS :
S. Jeyasankar Dept. of Fine Arts Faculty of Arts & Culture. Eastern University Vantharumoolai, Chenkalady.
Sri Lanka.
emailsjeyasankar(a) yahoo.com.

ary 2001
G.
The Development of the di- & 8
vine in man would be called
the THIRD EYE or the Eyes
of Topas, mano, - viritti,
8 Thapasi is: from the root Tap
is Sanskrit, meaning to
burn'. This has al dual role. Turned inwards the burning ܘܳܶ ݂
is an internal process of
cleansing Samskara or puri
fication. The five door of per
ception are under the perfect
control of the mind (manas)
to such a cleanser. His inner
faculty of thought is the best
fields for the cultivation of
true literary crop. Such prod
ucts can stand timelessly.

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Seventh issue of the THIRD EYE - Janui
CHALLENGES AND IMPORTANCE OF IDENTIFYING AND ESTABLISHING A TRADITION FORWRITING IN ENGLISH BY THE THAMILS OF SRI LANKA.
S. Jeyasankar
Identifying the creative writings in English by the Thamils, and establishing it as a tradition is a scholarly work but a neglected part in the history of the literary tradition of the Thamils in Sri Lanka.
When I think about creative writing in English as a tradition, it is an irony that a society with popularly known silver - tongued orators in English had not thought about or were not aware about a creative tradition as a resistance against colonial systems as in Indict or in African countries because we had limitted experiences in the national liberation struggle against colonialism and can identify its impact on our political and intellectual tradition right from independence.
After independence, politicians and intellectuals representing the community took the language issue as a medium to gain power to rule their people in place of the colonisers. Decolonizing the minds of the people was not their concern. The unchanged existance of the colonial education system will reveal this matter very cleary.
Thomas Macaulay is "Minute on Indian Education "portrays the colonial construct. It says, "It is impossible for us, with our limited means, to attempt to educate the body of the people. We must at present do our best to form a class who may be the interpreters between us and the millions whom we govern, a class of persons, Indian in blood and colour, but English in taste, in opinion, in morals, and in intellect'
The above statement is also appropriate
to the elite of the Sri Lankan Thamil community.
At the same time we can identify the efforts of movements like National Youth Congress to awaken national consciousness among the Thamil community throughout history. Even though it was not very strong, and faced diffi
culties in Sri Lankan politics and had limitations to meet the challenges of the contemporary world, it nevertheless had the power to resist colonialism.

ry 2001 )
Prime Minister Ms Sirima vo Bandaranayaka 's conversation ...ith the former commonwealth Secretary - General, Mr. Sridath Ramphal will reveal the truth that from the time of independence we haven it had a proper language policy to meet Our future as an independent nation.
Sridath Ramphal, 'Shortly after I become Secretary - General of the Commonwealth in 1975. I met Prime Minister Srinictwo) Bandaranayaka in Colombo and we talked of ways in which the Commonwealth Secretariat could help Sri Lanka. Her response was immediate and specific. "Send us people to train our teachers to teach English as a foreign language". My amazement must have showed, for the Prime Minister went on to explain that the policies of her husband put in place twenty years earlier to promote Sinhala as the official language had succeeded so well that in the process Sri Lankat, so long the pearl of the English speaking world in Asia - had in fact lost English, even as a second Language save for the most educated Sri Lankans. Her concern was development, Farmers in the field, she told me, could not read the instructions on begs of imported fertiliser and manufacturers in the global Incirket were not likely to print them in Sinhalat. Sri Lanka was losing its access to the world language of English. We did respond. I helieve that today. English is doing better as the second language in Sri Lanka'
Colonially Constructed State and education system will not deliver goods in favour of the natives aspirations. So, the reasons behind the difficulty in identifying creative writing in English as a tradition is crystal clear.
Even though there are writings in English From C. V. Velupillai, poet Tambimuttu. A lagu Sub raman iam, S. J. K. Crowther, T Ranctnanthan, Raja Proctor, Heather Lovailal, Satras wathi Roackwood, Guy Amirt hanayagam, T. So mas un daram, J. Ariyanayagam, Jeyanathan, Thurairajah, A. Shivanandhan, Jean Arasanay'agam T. Arasanayagam, Shyam Selvadurai, Bamini Slevadurai Valan, Indran Amirthanayagam, Rohini Hens man, E. C. T. Candappa, A. Shanthan, Parvathi Arasanayagam, S. Pathmanathan, S. Thillain at han. Pon

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Seventh issue of the THIRD EYE - Janu
Ganeshan and several others, they werent continued and constructed as a tradition. But intellectuals are regularly presenting academic papers in English, because of the requirements of the Universities to publish articles in international journals for which they gain points in the academic system. But they don't seem to concentrate or involve themselves in creative writing because they are not awarded points for such works.
The reason behind it is very simple. There is no space for creativity in the education system. This is the politics of the colonial education system. "Masks of Conquest” a book by Gauri Visvananthan' is about the origin and ideology of English studies in India, wherein she argues that English Literature was introduced as a subject in India even before it became a subject in England.
This was because it was belived that Indians who learnt English Literature would be convinced that Europeans possessed a humanisitic and Christian tradition of literature that was far superior to anything which existed in the Indian Languages. In other words, the study of literature created an ideal colonial subject who would accept and appreciate the British "Civilising” mission, It is under this colonial mesmerism that we are functioning.
Education is one of the most powerful media of colonial Osm and neocolonialism. A powerful weapon of social control. Although Sri Lanka has been independent for fifty years, the values and patterns of British colonial education continues to persist.
Education in Gramsci s terms, is “dominant by consent'. "This domination by consent is a chie ved through what is taught to the colonised, how it is taught and the emplacement of the educated subject as a part of the continuing imperial apparatus -a knowledge of English literature, for instance, was required for entry into the civil Service and the legal profesSion. Education is thus a conquest of another Rind of territory - it is the foundation of the colonialist power and consolidates this power through legal and administrative apparatus" Now it has shifted from literature to business, English for Business purposes and it has lead to the slogan "without English there is no future'.

ary 2001 02
So the process of identifying and establishing a tradition for creative writing in English among thẻ Thamils of Sri Lanka is a part of the decolonization of Thamilian minds. As Mulk Raj Anand said, "No apology is necessary to bring truthful to the echoes of ones mother tongue and the imaginative communication for those vibrations which are in the nerves of the people not born of English mother S.P.
In Thamil there is a myth called “Heaven of Thirisangu” or “World of Thirisangu' It is a world in space between earth and heaven. Thrisangu wants to go to heaven but heaven rejects him and he doesn't want to return to the earth. So he is in a world of his own between earth and heaven. The life in this world had constructed a state of mind which will not acept the native order and can not achieve the order acceptable to the colonial standand. This is the world of imitation, constructed by the colonial rule and its education system which leads to form of fear in the minds and functions as a mental block to in creative activities. I have had discussions with people are well-versed in English literature who had attempted creative ariting in English and were involved in creative writing in Thamil but had given up creative writing in English after a few attempts because of this fear and lack of recognition.
But A.J. Canagaratha said "One of the reasons may be that apart from lack of encouragement and outlets for production, the standard English taught in school aits emphasis on grammar and British models may have inhibited creativity, I remember Alagu subramaniam telling me when I asked him why the language in some of his stories sounded artificial and stilted, that the English man thought that the 'native could write only "Babu English” (an insulting reference to the English of the Indian 'native ) they had to prove they could write English the way English man wrote it".
The view of Mulk Raj Anand is differest.
"I began writing earlier than he (Tambimuttu) and in prose. My novels are about the poor and disinherited of Asia. Naturally I was abused and misunderstood, except in the third world, and the world of the poor of

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Seventh issue of the THIRD EYE - Janu
Europe. But the Literati thought that I was a communist Stooge. I am saying this because one, important lapse on Tamibis part was not to remember he came from the disinherited society."
Ngugi wrote in his book 'Decolonizing the Mind." "In my view language was the most important vehicle through which that power fascinated and held the soul prisoner. The bullet was the means of the physical subjugation. Language was the means of the spiritual subjugation."
So if we want to live in a world of creation with creative imagination, we have to identify and establish a tradition determined by our socio-cultural context which will erase our fear and break our mental block and bring forth people with creative imagination to face the challenges of neo-colonialism.
The socio-political history of the Thamils of Sri Lanka and the history of the literart tradition in English reveals that importance is given to English as a medium of instruction in business and not as a medium of creative expression. But the generation of the last decades of the 20th century had different opinions. They too are the products of the mother tongue but the experience of the liberation struggle and the diaspora of the Thamils have opened - up new frontiers and new thinking.
The thinking of the importance of creative imagination is the major factor in the current intellectual and creative traditions of the Thamils of Sri Lanka. They are willing to express their feelings, experiences and thinking in a creative way. They express their creativity in their new world as originals or as transcreations or as translations. The Thamils in exile express their creative imagination not only in their own language but also in the languages of their adopted countries. They are also actively involved in translating original works from the languages of their adopted countries into their mother tongue.
It is a shell shock for the conventional intellectual community because most of the people engaged in this process are not familiar with English and do not have a University background. The interesting thing is the part played by the Universities in the North and East in this process which is questionable and always criticised by the intellectual community outside the Universities.

ary 2001 Σ 03 (
The emergence of the “Third Eye' a little magazine in English first published in 1993 to bring out original works, critical works, translations and transcreations from Thamil writings and the reproductions of the works of pioneers and the thinking of creative tradition in English is a part of the above process and is not the contribution of the English medium educated. Prof. Sures Canagarajah's writing on theatre will clarify this situation.
In an article titiled "Experiment and controversy in the Jaffna English Theatre” which appeared in the “Third Eye" he says, "The English theatre scene has taken an experimental turn in the past couple of years. A series of plays staged here (James Thuder's Ostrich. and Jamal Banoura's "Accused" staged on 30th August 1991. Abjit Sicar's Child's play staged on 19th July 1991 and 30th August 1991, Bernard B. Dardees "The cillage staged on 02 and 15th February 1992 and on 10th June 1993, Alagu Subramaniyams short story "Professional Mourners' adopted by A.J. Canagaratna “Wake up my beloved' staged in February 1993 and on 10 June 1993) have been quite controversion in their reception"."
"Though all this is repulsive for many brougt up in the classical tradition, most of the school students and University producers involved are fortunately influenced by the vibrant Thamil theatrical tradition. The Thamil theatre is also primarily a school level or educational theatre. The younger generation is then now able to connect the Thamil and English theatrical traditions. It is true that hitherto, the Thamil theatre borrowed Ibsen, Chekov and Beckett through English. But now the tables are turneal The English theatre is borrowing local themes. indigenous music, acting and directorial skills from the Thamil tradition, promising interesting new departures for the Jaffna English theatrical scene"
Contrary to this, most of the Thamils who were the doyen of the English literature do not know or have the least familiarity with Thamil Language, literature and their experiences are limited to the four walls of their gardens. But this is different from those who are writing in French, German, Norwagian, etc. They have direct experience in the liberation struggle and are not from the elite. So their perspectives and purposes are different. This is strange but true, in a sence a revolution in a society dominated by conservative ideas.

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Seventh issue of the THIRD EYE - Janua
After we started to publish “The Third Eye". our search for original manuscripts, translations, transcreations and rare publications of the pioneers began. In this search we faced strange experiences. We have collected manuscripts from writers who are adamant to write again. The root cause is frustration. Now “The Third Eye" has given a momentum to the process of identifying and establishing a tradition for creative writing in English, by the Thamils of Sri Lanka.
The emergence of the 'English Forum’ with the support and guidence of Prof. S. Caunaganayagam, Prof. Suresh Canagarajah, .N fr: A.J. Canagaratna, Mr. S. Rajasingam and the involvement of Mr. T. Somasundaram gave the moral boost at the initiation and the development of the process of identifying and establishing a tradition for the writing in English by the Thamils of Sri Lanka.
The current intellectual traditions of the Thamils of Sri Lanka are not one dimensional determined by the English tradition as in the earlier period: it is multi dimensional and is di
Reference :
. Macaulay, Thomas B. (1835) Mi wit
trod
forc
2. Crystal, David (1997) Eng Pre:
3. Viswanathan, Gauri (l989) Mas Indi
4. Ashcorff, Bill. Gareth, Griggiths The and Ilelen Tiffin (1995) Yor
S. Anand. Mulk Raj Voic
6. Camagaratna, A.J. Lett
7. Williams, Janes (1998) Tha Lon
8. Nigugi, wa Thiango (1981 a) “Th min
Lon
9. Canagarajah, Suresh (1993) “Ex Thil
Ibid

ry 200 ) 04 (
rectly open to various intellectual traditions of the word. The liberation struggle and the writings of expatriate Thamils have given an additional impetus to this new dimension. The Thamils of Sri Lanka now have access to the world through various channels and are in a position to select material in consonance with their accepted views. This is the major change of perspective in the intellectual traditions of the Thamil community.
In this background identifying andestablishing a tradition for creative writing in English parallel to the other traditions will create a different perception among the international community as opposed to the world constructed by the mass media in this information . age.
I will conclude my presentation with a quotation from Mahadma Gandhi, "I do not want to be walled in on all sides and my windows to be stuffed. I want the cultures of all the lands to be blown about my houses as freely as possible. But refuse to live in another peoples houses as interloper; a begger or as a slave.
nute on Indian Education in speeches of Lord Macauly h his minute on Indian Education, selected with an in luction and notes by G.M. young (1935), oxgord, ox
University press.
glish as a Global Language, Cambridge University SS.
sks of Conquest, Literary Study and British Rule in a, Newyork, Columbia University Press.
post Colonial Reader, Routledge, London and New k.
2e of Protest, January 12, 1996 Frontline
er Correspondence, 2000
mbimuttu : Bridge Between Two orlds, Peter Owen, dom.
e Language of African Literature in Decolonizing the d: The Politics of Language in African Literature, don, James Currey.
periment and controversy in Jaffna English Theatre." rd Eye, First Issue.

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Seventh issue of the THIRD EYE - Janu
Duplicated White Swaggerer Visit
6. TeYA6AM CA2
Savagely and Treacherously Were defeated our ancestors Robbing us in new ways From generation to generation However Got themselves thrusted into us Like gentlemen and Dukes Sapping us of our selves Seasoned us into their serviles Left us, the white swaggerers
Then, In black skin came the new ones As the duplicated white Swaggerers Inviting,
Come my dear Sons We can become new coolies to them For they do manythings Sending satellites, firing missiles . . . . . . . So come become attendants on the white Swaggerers When they tour our country Can become nurses Who can attend on them When they fall ill
Come my sons We can become commodities importable So saying came the new ones Wellgroomed superfluous And having true friendship with power Came the new ones in black akin As duplicated white Swaggerers
Came the new ones in black skin.
TRANSAT E3D 3
T. kei SPu PA KA
Sirenous State
By : Amarathas
We are in search of The statue!
Facing anguish We sob We sculpt it separately We can pastle,
Our values on it. It may shine, It may be magnificent,

Iry 2001 ) 05 (
Silver flowers
Silver flowers all over the sky, No hands to gather them Refugee children all over the world, No one to embrace them
Birds chirp all over the open field, No one to listen yearningly, Voices of children on the way, on the streets, no soul to feel compassion
(Silver flowers ...)
Shoals of twiring fish in the sea, No one to enjoy lovely sight. Refugee children drifling in the boats, No way to reach the coast
(Silver flowers . . . .)
Supreme justice all over the world, With sermons plenty. Night and day alternate, No radiance for refugee children
(Silver flowers . . . . . )
Song in Thamil
By : Mr. M. Ponambalam Translated By : S.M. Felix Song from the Drama “Story of the refugees' (Production of the Uduvil Girls' College - 1993)
Script M. Nilanthan Direction : S. Jeyasankar
へ
A 32A MU
It may be a modern, It may be huge. We need it, Fir the esteemable living It may get alive,
It may have O111. blood, It may dry our soal. It will be . . . . . . It may cramp the blood. It will drink, Myself to live
Translated By : P. Ganeshan

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Seventh issue of the THIRD EYE - Janu
Apocalypse and the Mythopolic Imbaginpation). A note ono Jeyambobano’s
Visbo(upduramo
A.J. Canagaratna
As far as I can remember, my first introduction to Jeyamohan as a writer was a story of his which appeared in a Tamil magazine published from India. That was some years back and I have forgotten both the title of the story and the name of the magazine. Some readers here tried to give it a political reading which appered Strained to me. All that I can recall is that it appeared to me a compelling study in the psychology of monomaniacal obsession and I was impressed by this successful indigenisation of the Gothic Mode.
When his collection of short stories - Thisaikalin Naduvil - came my way, I felt I was in the presence of someone who had the potential to become a major writer. The same feeling I had when I first read Puthumaipithan's collection of stories, Kanjanai. When a friend offered to borrow Vishnupuram from the public Library for me, I was at first reluctant to accept the offer not only because of its bulk (768 pages) but also because I had been told that it had run into heavy critical flak in India. In fact another friend of mine who had been present at the book release in India, told me that though a few speakers had referred to the novel in favourable terms, the majority had spoken of it disparagingly and dismissed it as just another lsthalapuranam. He also added he had been told that the author was an ex - RSS member and the novel a literary expression of the Hindutva ideol
Օgy.
So when I was finally persuaded to read it, I came to it not with an open but a heavily biassed mind. But to my pleasant surprise, my impressions on a first reading were entitely favourable to the novel which has been described by a hostile critic as a gigantic hoax.
This brief note makes no claim to be a comprehensive treatment of the novel; a fuller discusSion would involve several re-readings. As I have read it only once, my note is based, at best, on a partial reading. Therefore I would like to stress the tentativeness of my views; a re-reading may lead me to alter them.

ary 2001 ) 06K
In his preface and Acknowledgement, Jeyamohan implies that the novel is the outcome of a personal spiritual quest. There are several characters in the novel who symbolise this quest but the author admits somewhat uneasily that, contrary to his intentions, the novel strikes an atheistic note, this is not the first time in the history of literature that a literary creation intended by its creator to be an image of Pillaiyar turns out to be a monkey's instead. In fact modern Western literary theory’s favourite pastime is to hunt for such contradictions embedded in a text and then go on to elaborate an alternative text - authored by the theorist according to his / her whims and fancies.
Vishnupuram seems to me to be a hybrid, blending both the qualities of an epic and the realism, irony and psychological probing of character we associate with the novel. The cutting from one scene and character to another recalls the cinematic mode.
Though there are references to actual historical events (like the polemical debates between the adherents of different religious faiths and the Moghul invasions) it would be misleading to think of it as a historical novel.
In my view, the novel seeks to explore the nature of the mythopoeic imagination and its complex relation to reality; all the other themes, including the theme of personal spiritual quest, can be subsumed under this.
The charge that the novel is an expression, in literary terms. of the hindutva ideology seems to me absurd; the Moghul invaders who destroyed temples are actively sided and abetted by a section of the Brahimns and other castes who have old scores to settle. Established religions - both Brahminism and Buddhism are exposed for what they are ideological cloaks to cover exploitative social relations and big leaf to the maked will to lower.
The rarefied philosophical debates are ironically juxtaposed to a scene where the Brahmins are virtually depicted as beasts gorging themselves and demanding more food. The last of the line of the Brahmins exercising religious authority is a subhuman freak.

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Seventh issue of the THIRD EYE - Janu
The Buddhists are not treated so harshly but once they gain full control of the city, supported by the merchant class, their earlier idealism and passion for Social justice are swallowed up in the course of the practical exercise of power which seems to flow from guards armed with spears the disillusionment this leads to is expressed through the reflections of a sensitive foreign monk. The Pandyan King is portrayed as a decrepit lecher and the Alvars fare no better.
In fact a strong case can be made out for the view that the novel is in fact, a deconstruction of religious ideology and the formation of local cults based on caste and the process of euheimerism.
The persons who are shown in a comparatively favourable light are the spiritual free - lancers so to say: the Siddhar and the loners who seek spiritual salvation outside the religious Establishment. But even they too confess to a sense of empitness at the end of the Spiritual quest.
Sappire
(In memoery of Richard de Zoysa)
This country's bright future lies in her diamonds they tell me. Morning, and I’m dragged to the jeweller's window I stare at them through glass. In our country you can get S Sapphire for a snip . . . . they said
It would keep you healthy,
someone says to me: turning away from their brotherhood "What about a moonstone whose colour comes from the touch of light?
Nights later, watching the moon, Colombosjewels come to mind, flirting with my eyes,

ary 2001 07 (
Apocalypse is a recurrent theme in different civilizations the belief that when the image of Vishnu turns, it signifies the end of an era (not all accept that it is a Vishnu image; some clans think of it as their culture hero) should be viewed as a symbolic experession in mythological terms of cataclysmic geological changes. That such changes have occured is a scientifically established fact. Therefore one need not think the violent upheavals in nature depicted at the end are incredible.
The novel runs the whole gamut of Tantric practices, tribal rituals involving group sex at one end and highly abstract philosophical speculation at the other. I am reminded of remark about Donne that he could be so metaphysical because he could be so physical as he pleased.
jewelled crossed on the necks of the rich. I remember them in the palms of my hands; candle's eye, then in an instant blood on my hands, a moment, an intake of breath accuses me
as the tide ebbs under the masked moon
its shroud drawn over the world.
Yet, surely, the finest sappire of all is the loadstones of truth?
Tonight, the wild moon rises to the full
in its warm oven,
melting the ice - moths of the night.
Menna Elfyn
Background note. While I was staying in Colombo a hotel driver
insisted on taking me to stores selling gem stones.

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Seventh issue of the THIRD EYE - Janu
The Worship Scar
By : S. Vilvaratnam
After my friend Introduced his father,
casually
I asked about the scar. “This the thoukai - scar' The Periyavar said Stroking his forehead, His eyes lighting up.
bit my tongue
Grieved
By ny ignorance.
Alling for Allah He had bowed low Till his native soil
Scarred
His bowed forehead Whence sprang my impudence That dared chase them away From the soil of their birth Like Striking Their worship - scarred forehead with a hammer? v How thus could
Injure myself? Their worship - scar
Seared My guilt - Stricken conscience Scar. Like the third eye
BGGA2S
M. Saravanapava Iyer
E.L.T.C. University of Jafna
Lord Farmer', I'm hungry; beggar don't shout I'm angery' Lord "Rich man' give me some money ;
Poor man I have no single penny
Lord Judge', give me judgement;
you are not an actual rich man'

ry 2001 Σ 08
They grilled and drilled My battle - field scars too. When, oh when will my scar Disappear? When, oh when will my crime of violating the soil's beauty Etched on their foreheads Be expiated? When from exile They return home and full-throatedly Calling for Allah They renew their worship worship - scars And stroke their foreheads The tears dammed up For years and years Will burst the eye - dykes. Only at the moment I immerse myself In that cleansing cataract Will my blemish Recorded by history Be washed clean. That moment only Will consummate My liberation. Friend, Allah have I entreated To hasten that sweet, soothing moment of reconcilement.
Source: Forehead Soil (1sted. 2000)
(Translated by A. J. Canagaratna)
Lord Priest', where is the God? 'you can't see him, he is great Lord Teacher', teach my son ; he is not a clever one'. Lord Lowyer'. represent my case ; "that depends on monetary base",
Lord Banker', give me a loan ; 'you have failed to see me alone' lya Professor'. give me knowledge;
"you are only a "sub - standard" image

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Seventh issue of the THIRD EYE - Janu
Borno fo labor Golden) ar - rinoqgS
C.V. Velupillai
The granducles and cousins are famed for their banter in the tea plantaions. It is a special art put to great advantage in the discussion of family
matterS.
Uncle Palany, noted as he is in this respect meets Arjunan on an evening and broaches the subject in the usual manner.
"Do I hear that your are planning to invite me to a feast? It is a long time since I have had one at your house.
Arjunan knows too well that Uncle Palany never indulges in light talk. He is in a difficulty, but Uncle Palany comes to his aid.
in these modern days people forget a lot of things. They have to be reminded of their duties and obligations. Why don't you bore your little girl's ears? It is time.”
"Ah! Yes, uncle, yes. The girl is well past six. It has to be done immediatley after pay day.”
"That won't do. Consult the pandaram and then fix up the proper time.”
That night after dinner Arjunan and Panjali talk it over. As it is the first function to be celebrated in the family, Panjali wishes it to be grand but Arjunan wants it to be modest. A compromise is arrived at and three hundred rupees is budgeted. Part of this money has, of course, to be borrowed from the head kangany.
The pandaram names the l6th November as the auspicious day. In the meanwhile Arjunan uses the old and the new forms invitations. To the relation and friends on the estate he sends out a cousin to keep betel and arecanut, the traditional invitation by betel. To those in distant places he sends out printed cards.
Well in advance of the ceremony there is spring cleaning. The walls are polished with white clay, and intricate patterns of kolam in dull and yellow are drawn on the walls. A small pandal of green branches and ferns is erected in front of the line

ary 2001 209
room. Full grown banana trees complete with bunches flank the four corners and mango festoons are hung right round. A Small dais of mud is built in the centre for the ceremony.
On the day of the function the dhoby gives the finishing touches with his multi-coloured cloth decorations. He spreads mathu, white linen to seat the guests. The goldsmith and the barber also coune for the occasion.
The drummers, the band of nagasuram, the oorumi players and the baja party with their tabla and harmonium take up positions on One Side of the pandal. Colse behind the dais stand well-burnished brightly- lit lamps. Brass trays loaded with betel, arecanuts, plantain and small vessels filled with sandal paste and vermillionare assembled close to the lamps. Arjunan his brother-in-law, Nadesan and their brothers receive the guests at the entrance.
Every family brings three neasures of rice, vegetables and new cloth for the girl. This gift is known as seer. Someone write down the names of the donors so that Arjunan can return the gifts on a grander scale when the occasion arises.
Now the ceremony draws near. The men get together and poke fun at the litte girl. The boy cousins giggle in the corners. Uncle Palany takes control of the situation and directs operations. The women folk respect Uncle Palany, for has he not done a hundred marriages in his lifetime? Above all, he has the last word on the traditional customs and ceremonies.
Now he directs the drummers to play the auspicious measure known as the molokku The drums and orrmi raise a deafening pitch. The little girl, Janakee, is out by her father to the dais. Panjali whispers a word of caution “Lightly, please, and then she rubs her eyes.
“Don’t bother, child. Your little girl is not made of candy. She might melt, eh? Now, no. Don't keep rubbing your eyes.” He turns to the men:
Look here, maternal Uncle, Nadesan, don’t behave like a bridegroom. Seat the girl on the dais. Apply holy ash and then turn to the east and do your job Ai! pandaram get your job ready.”

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Seventh issue of the THIRD EYE - Janu
With professional skill and a flourish the pandaram arranges the betel leaf, arecanut, plantains, camphor and joss sticks at the base of the lamps. He then breaks the coconuts and lights the camphor on the tray with the holy ash. He offers the lights in dedication to the ringing of bells. At this stage Uncle Palany gives the Siganl to maternal uncle Nadesan. Arjunan and his first cousin playfully hold Janakee. Nadesan in a split second pricks the ears with a set of specially made earrings, and the goldSmith who stands at hand completes the job.
The little girl cries out Aiyo, Amma”
“You little imp! Don't cry Aiyo' shouts Uncle Palany. You drummers and nagasuram men, why are you looking on?
Suddenly there is a rent and clamour of music. It drowns the child wailing. The cousins clap their hands and pour out a peal of laughter. Panjaly with a tear in her eye and a Smile on her lips takes little Janakee into the room.
Arjunan, get the food ready, hints Uncle Palany
Mats are spread out along the wall in the Verandah and men go in and out of the room clearing their throats, probably after a peg
Again Uncle Palany S Stentorian voice is heard.
“Men from the house of the sammanthi and pangali, (brothers-in-law and first cousins) take your places. Do not wait for ceremony this is your house."

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According to order of relationship they sit down. A man goes spreading the plantain leaf, another man with a tray of curries starts serving fast followed by the rice. And the feast goes on for over an hour.
The pandaram, goldsmith, dhoby and barberget their share in cash and kind.
After dinner the men re-assemble in the pandal to collect donations known as moi' Uncle Palany initiated the moi contributions. The Sammanthi and the pangali donate at least Rs. 51 or Rs 21 each.
Uncle Palany announces it in a sing Song style so that everyone hears it. If the traditional order is not strictly followed, there would be a loud protest by the injured party.
“Did you see those elders? Well, I am not a big man. I suppose Uncle Palany did not notice it.”
“My dearthambi’ says Uncle Palany with irresistible charm, I am watchingyour interest very carefully. It is a small slip at a little girl's function. Please do not take it to heart. After all, it is our business-yours and mine.”
Uncle Palany then proceeds to tectify the error in ringing voice “moi- Rs. 1 l by pangali Ramiah, Pangali Ramiah!”
The donations come in according to order of relationship. The names of the donors are written down as usual. Uncle Palany supervises the entire proceedings. The betel-tray goes round several times.
It is well after midnight when the guests disperse.

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Seventh issue of the THIRD EYE - Janu
The YellOW DOIS
Shanmugam Sivalingam Oh, Destiny, J{ow deep you are And flow dark you are;
The jigiling yellow toys Sprawling in the wilderness of their ignorance and snobbissiness I spurn these acedemic parrots
Who tie a dragonfly to the star
The 2elease
S. Pathmanathan returned after a six-month exile to find to my Surprise my house standing. The roof intact with the exception of some stolen items our belongings safe.
Thank god No one stepped
on booby traps
I look around I miss something: Yes, the jubilant welcome by Blackie
My eyes scan the deserted homesteads and the shrubs
that day and the following days, Disappointed. My mind darts back to the cold October evening when I left my hearth and home
with the young and old
you stood sentinel over the house I abandoned From the sanctuary paid fleeting visits. Seeing me you leaped up in joy licked me snatched from my hands the goodies I had brought Running round and round you communicated to me the pangs of Separation. The third time

ry 2001 2 11 |
and the star to their very nose I see them vanishing one after the other Against your deep fatsion And distant dark horizons
I am not awaiting the dawn (But I face you Oft, darkness,
face to face
(Before I fall To off the yellow dolls
(Before tsey fall.
you followed me defiantly steeling my heart I chased you peltingstones
Today memories haunting me I gave and gave at the stray dogs that shun human beings conditioned by the shelling and firing
heard in the wilderness
You are not there But your memory haunts me whenever I think how you perished defending the house abandoned I feel the pangs of guilt I am ashamed of my cowardice my pettiness As I take stock of the damaged houses the lost possessions the missing members and the displaced persons my balance aheet shows a big deb (i)t. Bankrupt I could ask you for
A write - off
But you're not there. Only your memory haunts me stil !
Translated by the author from the Tamil Origional
Thoondi- (1997)

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Seventh lissue of the THIRD EYE - Janu
2e - evaluating Mark Master
Colonialism and Nationalism are the key factors of the context in which our Modernism has been shaped. This might be the major reason for the fact that when western painters tried to transcend the boundaries of their traditions, our painterS Searched for the roots of modernism within their own traditions, and this made our response differ from that of the west. For most of our early modernists who were suffering from the colonial hangover, modern painting become a stylistic venture rather than a social phenomenon. Therefore the Avant - garde tendency which was the basic charactor of western modernism, is lacking in our early modern painters. One can identify two key trends in our so-called modern paintings. One is the formalistic approach based on western high modern art and they tried to localise it with traditional forms. Here traditional forms or pictorial ellements are used only for their formal or pictorial quality rather than their innate meaning. Therefore tradition for them is not living but something which is museumized. The other trend is Socialistic in nature. Here they try to localize the modern pictorial idiom by handling native Social issues like famine, peasant life and war, in content. These approaches were the attempts by the early modernists to contexualize modernism in their own soil. But in both cases pictorial idiom was highly loaded with the nationalist sentiments, both by the viewer and the painter.
Mark Master who passed away recently at the age of 67 is a typical example of our modernists and he represents the dilemmas of a painter of this age. But there is no one like Mark, who got recognition and fame in our society in the field of plastic arts. His name almost became synonymous with the modern style of painting in Jaffna. His greater contribution is that he popularized the modern style of painting among the educated middle class to whom painting means calender art or academism or photographic realism or a class room lesson. This he achieved through the encouragement which he had given to his contemporaries and young enthusiastic students, and his continuous Struggle to imbibe and evolve a personal modern
pictorial idiom.
Mark Master's popularity had emerged with the changing scenario in the political, social and cultural life of Tamils in the eighties and the growing consciousness of Tamil identity and nationhood. This created an air of search and curiosity for the new in all the cretive fields, specially in literature, drama and painting. Some cultural activists and

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youngsters found Mark Master’s calibre and his style of painting more contemporary than others and consonant with the prevailing temperament and Social need.
His style, as I said earlier, shows both the directions. His earlier works are more formalistic in nature and a mixture of style ranging from Picasso to Georage Keyt and Jamini Roy to Satish Gujaral. Here he had used traditional subjects as an idea rather than a content, without their deeper meaning, and understanding. This can be well illustrated through his works like. Nataraja Raga Maliga or Jesus Christ. As a contrast to this is his later works depicting the besieged life of Jaffna, instead of creating a visual experience of war in painting, he is illustrating the events frame by frame in his cerebral style. The above observations show the irony that search for the ‘new’ become a search for style in contemporary Jaffna painting. And it is interesting to note that most of our viewers reactions are also either to the style or the theme than the expressive visual quality or the complete experience of painting. It can be argued that instead of establishing good taste and socially valid modernity, he popularized the modern style as against the popular visual culture of Jaffna.
As a student of the social history of art one may intend to question the validity of our present art history of Jaffna, which is nothing but a clutch of art teachers, sign board painters, cartoonists, illustrators, painters and artisans. Questions like what is the true nature of painting? What does painting mean to Jaffna Society? What is modernism in painting? What is modernism in Jaffna's visual culture? and what are the contributions of Mark Master in the field of painting will only help us to contexualize or re-contexualize Mark and his painting within the true nature of art history. Understanding his aesthetics and his career as a painter and a teacher beyond the popular beliefs and myth of individual style, within the historical context may drive us towards a contemporary valuable meaning of art.
There is no doubt that he is one of the few who worked and searched for the possibilities of painting beyond the limits of a classroom space and the popular visual space of Jaffna. He will be remembered for the encouragement which he had given to the younger generation, and painted what he felt correct without any sort of compromise.
T. Sanathanan
Lecturer,
Dept. of Fine Arts,
University of Jaffna.

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Seventh issue of the THIRD EYE - Janu
Patriotism)
Henry Victor
Blare, I will to my people, the Cherie Blair episode knowing too well knowing all too well-forgive my skeptism That you can never straighten the old dog's tail And its useless trumpeting into the ears of those pretending to be deaf and dumb
Hundred times Blair can be the Prime Minister Hundred times his wife can be pregnant Hundred times Cherie Blair can hop into the train Hundred times she can admit her ticket less ride Hundred times Arthur Harriot can fearlessly fine
Oh Sorry Mr Harriot . . . fearlessly... that’s irrelevant yes, in a country that is free There, good Arthrus simply do their job Fear, or no fear never enters their head
NAGA THEVI
By : V. Paranthaman
(A Poem written soon after he trip to Naina Theevu)
Blue - ringed sea waves Tipped with white foam Crawl like little babies From the Northern coast, Reach their destination To rest and break At the feet of Naga Thevi
Navy personnel in their blue suits Moving like the busy ants Cheeking in the people - spelled By a Magic Grace The Goddess - Naga Thevi Sitting under the well - spreaded Five hoods of the giant cobra The five forked red tongues Emit poison
To destroy all Evil.
Cobra - Golden in colour - red tongues protruding, Curls its long black dotted tail Forming a pedestal for the 'Mother; To sit, to sleep and to stand on it,

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Blare, I will to my people, the Cherie Blair episode knowing too well that our notion of patriotism Is all too crooked Therefore, I salute with people so simple Blair's patriotism that refuses to strench enough To accomodate Blair's pregnent wife Cherie Blair's patriotism that rejects without regret Dependence on her husband's premiership
solemnly salute with people so simply Mrs Blair's patriotism that does not shy to pay a fine without unnecessarily disclosing her Social identity
I very solemnly salute with people so simply Arthru's true patriotism of performing the duty, Writing tickets without looking at faces
Blare, I eill to my people the cherie Blair entity knowing too well such will remain a rarity In a country that which matters is authority
To dance with the round Globe, When it dances round the hot Sun. Boats full of people Chanting "Bajans ' "Nerthy' in their mind, A baby to be born A dreadful disease to be cured A boy detained to be freed Full of hopes, full of sorrows Marks of bliss, marks of fear
Faces of joys and elegant smiles, Walking and running, Dancing and singing, Elders fumbling with their sticks, Babies sucking their rubber nipples, Adults stumbling with their heavy luggage,
Entering the kovil - vibrated and echoed with Ohm Sakthi -- Ohm Sakthi, Tears streaming down their cheeks They pray 'Suck out the Poison of Evil from our race "Bring peace to our war - brimmed space'
"She gives us her joy our grief she may destroy Till our grief she is fled and gone She doth sit by us and mourn"

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Seventh issue of the THIRD EYE - Janu
A)aloqgies a)d Alleqgories
A-T. Canaqara tna
Book Review
Noyil Iruththal By : Mr. M. Ponnambalam
The scope of Mrs. Ponnambalam's faction Noyil ruththal (literally, being in Disease) is ambitious. In his prefactory note, he explicitly states that the motif of his hospitalization at the Myliddy T.B. Sanatorium in 1984 and as a polyneuritis patient at the General Hospital, Jaffna, in 1987 - just at the time war broke out between the IPKF and the Tiger militants - is meant to symbolize the traVails of an embryonic nation struggling to be born. When I ask myself - after re - reading the novel - whether the author has succeeded in transmuting his disease into symbol of a nation's trauma and travail. I'm afraid my candid answer will have to be
not quite
At the level of broad analogy, he does succeed, with Some stretching of the imagination, in Suggesting Some parallels - particularly in part 2 - between his diseased condition and the nations. By the way, what exactly is, according to Mrs. Po. the nature of the disease afflicting the budding nation? is it lack of freedom? others might diagnose it differently. But the comparisons run on parallel tracks, as it were. The authors intention would have been fully realised only if it had been an allegory, like the plague by Albert Camus: in its teasing relationship between documentary realism and symbol. The Plague, was perceived as an allegorical account of the condition of France under German occupation. and of the need for resistance.” (Christopher Bulter) Analogy keeps the things compared quite distinct Whereas allegory fuses them so that the work can be read at two or more levels. Allegory is not merely a literary device or teachnique: its fundamental origins are religious and its origins very ancient. It apperS to be a mode of expression, a way of feeling and thinking about things and seeing them so natural to the human mind that it is universal. Much myth, for example, is a form of allegory and is an attempt to explain universal facts and forces - (see the Penguin Dictionary of Literary Terms and Literary Theory. New Edition, by J. A. Cuddon) The Setting of the first part of the novel is the Myliddy T.B. Sanatorium; this extends to 78 pages. Part I alternates between philosophical disquisitions and sharply observed thumbrail sketches of some of the

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inmates and the hospital staff. This part might tax the patience of some readers but they should keep in mind that it is not only We who read a text but also that a text simultaneously reads us in the Sense of revealing our shortcomings and blind shots, both as readers and human beings.
Compared to part 2, the tempo of Part I is more leisurely. The author narrator's physical condition is not as bad as in Part 2 and hence the flow of his thoughts is directed into spiritual channels. While I find I am unable to agree with him in toto, I can understand that his upbringing, particularly his mother's influence, has pre-disposed him towards a kind of mystical spirituality which Western Rationalism might deem obscurantist.
While I am not prepared to dismiss religious experience out of hard (who, after reading william James, The Varieties of Religious Experience can do so?), I remain an agnostic influenced by rational modes of thought.
The author defines his terms in such a way that outward - looking and inward - looking are polarised, thus making mutually exclusive aspects which are actually dialectually complementary; the former is depreciated while the latter is valorized. Marx and Marxism are categorised (and damned) as outward - looking much play is made with the phrase about religion being the opium the people. What most people, and surprisingly even Mrs. Po. have forgotten is that in the same passage Marx goes on to refer to religion as being the heart of a heartless world. In fact R.H. Tawney referred to Marx as the last of the Schoolmen. Others too have remarked on the fact that Marx in his savage denunciation of capitalism sounds like an old Testament prophet and that he is squarely in the Jewish messiamic tradition.
What perhaps made Marx consciouslyespouse atheism was the undeniable historical fact that in his time established religion was propping up an iniquitous social order and was justifying the status quo by trying to make out that it was ordained thus by Providence. Later developments especially the rise of Liberation Theology, show that some kind of rapprochement between Marxism and Christianity is possible (though it has not been sanctioned by the Vatican Establishment).

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Seventh issue of the THIRD EYE - Janu
Apart from general philosophical reflec
tions, the author also digresses to touch upon Aldous Huxley's the Doors of Perception but I wonder whether a mystics vision can be treated on the same level as a drug - trip, however mind - bending it may be. It’s news to me that Sartre too had experimented with drugs and found the experience disgusting. The author makes a reference to a King Sankili, who reigned during the Dutch period, killing thousands of depressed cast people who had converted to Christianity. Perhaps the reference is to Sankili who reigned during the Portuguese period and was responsible for the massacre of the Martyrs of Mannar.
After reading Alexander Werth's graphic The Battle of Stalingrad, I got the impression that it was the heroism displayed by the Russians that turned the tide during the 2nd World War, despite the military assistance promised by Britain and America not materialising. Werth was the London Times Foreign Correspondent resident in Moscow and can hardly be accused of Bolshevik Sympathies.
Mrs. Po. who evidently believes that more things are wrought by prayer than are dreamt of in your philosophy, Horatio will have no track with Such mundane explanations and reveals (page 72) that it was really Sri Aurobindo's Psychic Bombardment which stopped Hitler in his tracks just two days before the state he had stipulated for his entry into Buckingham Palace. If Aurobindo had not taken a hand, England would have been grovelling at Hitler's feet, according to Mrs. Po. He means this seriously and is not pulling our legs.
How many thousand years of binding is this? Being unable to unbind By charms of any kind
'Woman
Feet planted in reveries Prepared for creation Losing and losing the mind But in human procreation
The design of woman being Beautiful
Patient The great flood of sacrifice The very God itself and
Still more . . . . and more . . . .
Left to wander in the Space Whilst thought of as woman

Iary 2001 ) 15
The orthodox view is that Hitler was a megalomaniac and, in his paranoid State, preferred to be guided by his astrologers rather than his generals. Knowing Hitler’s penchant for astrologers guidance, the Allies too set up an astrologers think - tank to divine Hitlers moves Thus, at best its half-truth to say that world war 2 was fought by astrologers, not armies. Guided (or rather misguided, as later events were to prove) by his astrologers he chose to invade Russia, disregarding his general's advice this was to prove fatal for his plans to conquer the world. The combination of General Winter and the heroism of the Red Army and the Russian people shattered all his diabolical plans. I don't want to dwell too long on these differing interpretations as ultimately, one’s ideology will shape one's interpretation; after all, facts dont carry their interpretation on their faces. Moreover, what counts as a fact is also ideologically determined.
If part I begins with the patient - narrator gazing into Space, Part 2 openstersely, in a elliptical style; Jaffna Hospital, Ward 18. He lies there on a bed ranged alongside the wall in that Ward. This part is faster - pased and the description of the polyneuritic patients condition and the IPKF's shelling and military advance very effectively evokes the hectic atmosphere prevailing then. This part climaxes in a life - and - death race between the civilians (including Mrs. Po.) in the bus and the boat and an IPKF helicopter which, even as it gives chase, continues to Strafe then. It's a very dramatic, effective ending to a serious mindly faction well Worth reading, despite my cavils.
Construed as demon too when untied and untied Arrays in new charms How many years long binding is this Dissoloved in the flow of time And Soaked and Soaked
in the chromosomes.
First lets come down From the expanses of imagination To step on the fround Starting from our genes . . . . . . . . . .
14-07-1997
Vasuki. J Translated By : T. Kirupakaran

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Seventh issue of the THIRD EYE - Janu
Cricket A war - Gianbe
By : L. A. Leon
Cricket it's said is a gentlemen’s game; So, I think that it was but is no more;
It's a war-game. on Lankan political field - where Democracy, bemused, driven into the valley of
death;
Rights denied. Light imprisoned. Cricket - fever has touched the brains - durgged The young and the old forgetful of issues at hand sit glued to the lighted screen with Has and Oh's
The concerned ne'er concerned concerned the na
tion driven to a stand Still:
But keep the puppets strung performing as they
Cleared Area or the Sanctuary
of Soldiers
Chatturukondan
The sanctuary of binds Both from within and beyond frontiers Lies naped and destroyed As a symbol of states affairs Haunted by flying bullets
That in the ears.
The blue waving cloth of lake The eye - soothing green gloom of bondering mangrove bushes on top of them bloom
White lotus buds of Storks

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أسك
will’d
And warm in comfort, chanting charms to sooth the nation's conscience With cards outspread on the cricket field. No battle at the front is held higher than any matches in a series; Lives lost are only second to the wickets that fall; Any battle Won orlost ne'er pressurizes the hearts, Play of ball or bat can cause heigh or low even
coma state.
The ones perched at the helm, see cricket an apt
magic wheel - To navigate the nation couped in recial and religious zeal, Through shoals and rocks - damages minimized, To win political success and personal embellish
hetS.
flutter their wings and scater away A bloom of lotus in the air The water crows gliding in the air fly astray The migratory binds
Making seasonal visits Alighting to ease their wings Directionless fly as if lost their way
On the sandly expanse Denuded of palmyrah palms and mangroves Uprooted callously Creepers of banked - wire grow And green hills of gunnied sand rise Behind which eerieness dwele
Where holding their lives insecure
People move about in fear.
S. Jeyasankar Translated By : T. Kirupakaran
—

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Seventh issue of the THIRD EYE - Janu
The Terroris
Valan
As I entered the Ninth Ward of the Jaffna hospital, my eyes ran over the numberd beds in search of a special patient. My worried look must have disturbed the Nurse on duty and she asked me, 'Who is the patient?
I replied, I am looking for a prisoner, may be he is in a room apart?
'No. she said, he is over there in the last bed thirty one. What a pity even in a hospital, people have to be kept chained like animals in a Zoo. It disturbs the whole atmosphere of a hospital. It disturbs me, doesn't he look a good boy, but there is no one to talk to him. Only I understand a little bit his Sinhalese, otherwise he has only his guard.
I approached the very corner of the ward which was a bit dark, and the window pane above his head broken. He was chained to the hospital bed with silver chains. Though the chains were new and shinning it crucified him to the bed all right. As I approached the bed noticed that he was in pain, and in a low moan, caling for the policeman who was on duty. I asked “friend what is the problem?” Where is the policeman on duty? I asked the patient next to him. He said that the man must have gone down for his tea.
And the attendents are also gone for tea? their duty is over we will have to wait for night duty attendents.'
I looked around for the bedpan, found it in a corner and offered. He looked relived after a few minutes.
Thanks. He said “Where is that good for nothing policeman?... he is supposed to look after my needs; after chaining me hand and legs he disappears for hours. He thinks I will break loose and disappear from the hospital bed
The Nurse was there to take the temperature. That person who is supposed to be on guard doesn’t look very duty conscious, he disappears for hours and this poor boy can't communicate with these patients, he only smiles. If the guard wants to gallivant around why can’t he unchain him for an hour or two, he is going to get bed Sores at this rate being stretched out of hours on bed.
That was the pathetic condition in which found Siri. The nurse commented, “Whenever I See him I think of the last King of Kandy.

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“Where ever did you see him, I mean the King? I asked with a sence of humor.
Me? from the old history textbooks which have his picture, the image of the last King of Kandy, Kannapan, Kirthi Siri Rajasighe as he was portrayed by the artists with the beard always made a strong impression on me.
Why you are right, the semblance is very remarkable. I added.
Somasiri was fair complexed with a short beard he had begun growing in the Jaffna prisons. He was a Kandyan Sinhalese soldier, who was stationed in one of the town barracks. My thoughts were racing back to May this year when he came knocking and injuring with another about a parcel or a bundle left near door on the roadside. They Suspected it to be detonating device. It was part of the daily routine. After the early morning drill and tea, the Soldiers would go around the streets of the town along the main roads as a group with their captain and with the help of a rake trying to detect any hidden bobby traps or pressure mines, mostly Johnny mines local hand made ones the local resistance planted along the roadside. Rarely they would discover an over head claymore mine. Very rarely And they would have received prior information about it. A poor man who must have slept the previous night on my door Step had abandoned his bundle of old clothes on the grass and had disappared soon after curfew hours at 4.30 a.m. In fact my impression of him was that of a happy young Soldier, proudly out to perform his duties towards his motherland. From the few words I had with him on and offon different occasions, he was a happy Soldier for the few months. he had no cares in the world except his old mother and two sisters who would be able to manage with the money he sent home. He had acquired none of the bad habits that some of his soldier companions had learnt after coming to Jaffna. His mother wrote every week advised him to be a good Buddhist boy and observe the Sil on poya days : So he wrote back once a month specially when the pay was dispatched. The Jaffna area was pretty dry and warm and flat but the winds made it bearable and paper kites of varying sizes and colours delighted him like a child. He liked the open blue skies and as he dreamt at night of his village the terraced paddy plants on the hill sides; his Soul was in delight inside and out. On special days the White domed dagaba of his village and the moon over the tree in his village temple would appear in his early morning dreams. He didn't know the people nor their language, but he smiled at friendly faces specially when they were children. He would stop and try to speak to them in the few

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Seventh lissue of the THIRD EYE - Janu
Words he gathered from constant talking and listening to children. The dreams he had he was being transmuted into an Arahat, practising Maitreya in his land of occupation. The Jaffna dogs and cats were better, they could be seen around his camp. He could talk to them in Sinhalese, and they responded even the Stray goats and the cattle some of them definetly in the alien ranks because they were eating up the army posters and specially the green blue portions of the, presidents election posterS. He had grown up practising these acts of pinkama from his childhood.
He told the animals, Please don’t become like the tigers or lions. Any being can easily turn into a brute in a war area and in this atmosphere of violence. You can easily get brutalized, you begin to react like a best without even realising.
That is what happened to Siri when he had a Sudden burst of anger and the Kandyan, he thought of it as Royal blood boiling in his veins. For some days the friction had developed between his officer and himself. Infact his dreams were different now. Now he saw the Bhakirava Kantha and the barrels containing the prisoners ready to be rolled down the mountain side. Only he was not sure whether he was inside the barrel or out. Like a wounded buffalo he had lain low silently bearing it all up and on that fateful day when provoked beyond limits he had pulled the trigger and his officer lay in a pool of blood. He was arrested for manslaughter. He was in prison, in an alien soil, an alien culture, with criminals who spoke an alien tongue. He was never repentent, he said that he had never intended to kill, but the man deserved it. That dark skinned low caste may be a rodiya, had called him names, he always did that. The uniform and the strips don't entitle them for Kingship.
He was lying down on the urine smelling corner of the cell which was crowded. Some other prisoners were out their bath or haircut. Why doesn't he come out? I asked. He is on strike he refuses to get up.
The Superintendent ordered four co - porisoners to lift him up. That is how they bathed him and fed him whenever he refused to get up. For him it was a psychic state which he threatened to enter whenever things got too difficult to manage. There would be unpleasantness with the jailors or other Sinhala prisoners. Then he, Somasiri would enter the foetal psychic stage curl himself up in the foetal position and refuse to budge. There he would be back in his village meeting his mother in the drowsy sleepy state,and he would renew himselfin that cocoon stage and slowly recover over the week. And would beam like a happy child.

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His people were poor and so his uncle hired a lawyer from Colombo, a Tamil who got, in contact with a Jaffna Tamil lawyer who promised to look into the case but never really tried, because there was no money flowing in. Somasiri after seven months of waiting entered a prolonged foetal stage and refused to talk. So the Officers had to call in the ambulance and shift him to the Jaffna hospital. Now Somasiri was determined to renew his phychic tactics of the foetus unless shiffted to Colombo, where he had a better chance to see his mother and sisters, they would not have afforded the means to come and see him in Jaffna. So at last he Succeded in convincing the new prison superintendent, that if he wanted no more headaches he had better airlift him to Colombo.
That is why we could not meet him either in prison or at the hospital. A week later I was meeting the prisoners in the Jaffna jail. I asked them. “Where is Somasiri'? they replied that the had been shifted to Colombo by air. And there had been high drama at the airport. How do you know? they had a good laugh and pointed out to two new prisoners The two had been caught traffiking with drugs within the air port premises. They were stretcher bearers in the airport. When the turn came for Somasiri to be carried into the plane, they searched for his number and found it odd that he was not one of the numerous casualties of the present war operation. There were may wounded soldiers lying hundled up around the airfield. The Kilinochi operation was on and hundreds of wounded Sinhalese soliers were being airlifted to Colombo. Anyway they lifted him up and one of them asked where was his number. The other said "He is not one of the wounded solidiers.”
It is a mistake that he is here, may be, he is one of the terrorists. picked up by the army rescue team of medics.
Are you sure?
Why where is the Army badge?
The word had a magical effect,They both threw the stretcher on the floor and spat on him shouting “Terrorist' There was panic in the crowd. An Army officer nearby rushed and asked Where? There were only shouts, and near pandemonium, “TERRORIST TERRORIST, where? WHERE?
Soma Siri's muscles were loosening and anger flashed from his eyes, he slowly got up from his stretcher stood like a king. Who is the terrorist? His Voice became Solemn, “l or these two. I am a Sri Lankan Soldier SLR 512. Arrest them they are the real terrorists, they are trafficing in forbidden narcotic drugs. They are the enemies of our Nation. He faced the officer saluted him and walked slowly towards the plane.

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Seventh lissue of the THIRD EYE - Janu
S NATU KAWT AKAL
(Poems from China)
By : V. Suntharesan
Seenthu Kavithaikal has been published by Verkal, a literary association at Vadapalany, Chennai. A brief note appearing on last page of book indicates that the source of the translated poems in this book is the magazine - chinese literature. It occurs to me that the absence of foreword or any relevant information is a great “betrayal” inflicted upon this work. It is further disappointing that no mention has been made in the book about V. Suntharesan, the translator or K. Kailasanathan, the artist, who has illustrated the poems.
I learn that V. Suntharesan is an Instructor in English at the University of Jaffna. Mr. K. Kailasanathan is one of the remarkable Tamil artists in Sri Lanka. The blend of the modern trend and the occasional traditional style reflected in this illustrations appearing in book bring out his skill as an artist.
In the recent past quite a few collection of poems have been translated. These works include poems of Chairman Mao, Ho Chi Minh, Palestinians etc, and the translators are K. Ganesh, S. Yogaratnam, Nuhuman and Sivasekaram. In this context it's pertinent to analyze the poems by V. Suntharesam. Except for Oru Varam a translation by Murugaiyan, most of the translated poems by the writers portray the people's thirst for freedom and their freedom struggle.
But the poems translated by Suntharesan depict very elegantly the landscape of the chinese villages and exquistely instill in the readers’ mind the feeling of the melancholic experience of the people of villages in their day - to day life, their delights and romanticism and the lively world of birds and animals.

ry 2001 19|K
While the poems embrace various subjects, they intensely manifest humanity by conveying the theme of compassion toward all living creaturees. In this sense the poems translated by Suntharesan are unique.
In the poem titled Meadow after Rain, we come across a passenger in a train admiring the beauty of the dawn. The poem is plain in form but rather appealing to the mind.
In the Memory of the Maple Tree, the grievance of the poet following the felling of a maple tree is expressed and the description is so powerful that it causes the griveances to penetrate into the readers as well.
A Yellow Sparrow in the Jungle Felds speaks about a sparrow freed by a youth from the trap laid by a hunter.
The poet imaginatively describes that the bird is descending in its course in the air to convey its gratitude to the youth.
The revelation of the insatiable romantic feeling in Meeting makes it one of the best poems have read with pleasurble appreciation, recently.
A critic once remarked that “The part left out in translation is the essence of the poem'. As far as Seenarhu Kavithaikal is concerned, though these poems have been translated originally from Chinese into English and then from English into Tamil. these stictures don’t apply to Suntharesan translation because they successfully communicate the underlying experience to the reader.
The poet V. Suntharesan and artist K. Kailasanathan deserve our gratitude and apprecitation.
Mr. M. Ponnampalam
(Mu Po)

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Seventh issue of the THIRD EYE - Jan
Bubble like
T. Kirupacaran
A choking store room Dark and dusty Filled with columns of files and papers Yellowed with time And moth - eaten My hands at random Picks up one of them which crumbles to dust With one soft touch yet my eyes Screwed In the diffused sun light Read the contents one by one The name of an infant The parents of it’s birth The place and the date ()in which it came to earth My memory at once shifted Four and forty years back
A22VA. Of T B2D WIT
A WO2) Of G2
Kalloora
Out of the black water And from the waking of the gently Thought about her, A lonely bird came and rest Upon the branch of my bones.
She did not utter a single word And so did l, too.
It was so after a long time Her arrival.
(It is the translation of a poerNCâNged in the books

uary 2001 20 (
and flashed the scene On the minds silver screen My mother pale and sick with two other women Sits with the infant Lying in her lap It's soft limbs unmoving The tiny eyes not blinking The women’s faces show That the babe is fast sinking
And then the evening came On the fourth day of it’s birth Men and women spilled in To mourn the infant's death
This is how I lost my sister So cute, fair and beautiful I longed and waited for the day To cuddle her fondly and to play Often when I think of this loss It fills my heart with grief And bathes the eyes in tears.
The bird Pecking and pecking with its tiny beak In Search of Something On my branch sitting My heart so brimful of tears, flows out I have closed my eyes I have closed my eyes
For a sigh
For a sightful of relief
The waves that are thorwn against with words and words . . . . Return to the same sport Hitting their heads again and again To the shore Only to find their way home Being disappointed.
Translation by the author.
ofloems namely “The space in a space within Velikkul Veli)

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Seventh issue of the THIRD EYE - Janu
SpOUM
By : V. Paranthaman
In his message to Spume a collection of 28 poems by V. Paranthaman, an ELTC staffer, the Chancellor has categorized him a blooming poet along with Mr. M. Saravanapava Iyer of the same department.
The Eelam war seems to have had two opposite effects on these two poets. Saravanapava Iyer withdraws inward and discovers the child in him; through the universal eye of the child he has brought out two collections of poems for children “butterfly” and “Reminiscence”. In the Vice Chancellor’s own words they are a good feast to readers and nourish their joyous feeling'
The other has chosen the outward path. In his introduction Mr. S. Pathmanathan has rightly pointed out that “no creative writer can be blind to the plight and predicament of nation stunned by violence. Though Paranthaman is a beginner his poetry has the “freshness of a child' s face'.
The poet's mental lens has a limited span, it moves between two bridges in the Jaffna Town: the Pannai Palam and the Navatkuli Palam and the Small Island that lies in between with ponds, lagoon, paddy fields, streets and the ineScapable sentry points. There is poignant point which is at the core of the poet's experience because it is a com
TOI OCCUTTCCC.
Eg. Where Angel fear to tread - p. 19
One of those dusky evenings My daughter and I Went hiking Along the dark highway A gun - shot Whistled through the air. Everything stood still
The inevitable round - up follows and the child asks “Appa did you bring your I.C.? Will he sent us? My daughter is just four'
Some of his poems start off with romantic impressions but abruptly end with a violent image

y
ن{ * * iك
ary 2001 /
like in the “Ode to the Northen Sea, and “Strange displacement'.
Pure Land is in the romantic tradition as it describes the Small Island - Eluvaitheevu', never crushed by the hands of war.
No bullet wounds
No cannon booms
No shells
No blood stains.
But “till the wound is red” is a realistic poem, simple and straightforward. The poet is like the Hovercraft, one of his poems.
Her body Under the cold green lagoon She is looking for her morning bite
Suddenly she withdraws her long neck into the water ...........
She reappears A small fish in her mouth
In some of those poems the poet dives into own collective (psyche of Jaffna) subconscious: Waiting is a poem which begins with Sunset and ends on a note of surprise.
But the dark old woman
ls still
Waiting For her son” s return.
That is the Jaffna version of the Deirdre of Sorrows of the Irish Mythe. She is worn out through too much of suffering. There is another woman worn out though the frustration of wating at deserted sentry point near Navakuli. The lonely Sinhala military policewoman who is engrossed in embroidering a red rosee on a white handkerchief.
“Laughed charmingly at me A gorgeous Sinhala rose in the fertile Tamil’s soil?
Red, the colour of blood, predominates many poems whether it is sky, the land, water or the long drawn-out violence.
Cor. . 25

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Seventh issue of the THIRD EYE - Jan
“TSATT IN DAADAL TU”
“Were we borm to weep, Grow up, drenched in our tears Knowing full well the Gods are dumb”
Amutha, in her loneliness, would often sing song in a plaintive voice. I had heard it earlier but had not paid any attention to it then. Today, I heard it again, for the eighth time since my coming here, two months ago. This time, the melancholy notes moved me, wrenched me, wrenched my heartstring as it were, shook me to the core as it had never been before. Something within me urged me to go to her, question her the reasons for her sorrow. I drew near, stood in front of her, coughed slightly to
her attention.
“Well Rajan, aren't you going out for your meals today, she asked in a matter of fact way and buried her face in her handkerchief. Thus, it absorbed her tears. But I wondered if that small handkerchief could ever wipe out all the misery that was apparent on her face
I was in a quandary. How was l to get her story? Wouldn't I be trespassing on her privacy? Wouldn't I make her more miserable and how was
going to comfort her then?
I knew the havoc sorrow caused, but wasn't it also true that the mere sharing of one’s grief lessened the other's unhappiness? I was determined to coax her and draw out her story.
“Amutha, why do you, like a nightingale, sing this sad song over and over in your loneliness?' I asked her, face averted, not having the courage to look her in the face.
'Why do you ask. Rajan?”, she sighed. “There is joy when you share glad tidings, why bother others with my sorrow and make them sad?' She tried to avoid further talk.
I explained to her that many would willingly share another's happiness but only a few would their sorrow. That is why sorrow is a tyrant. Nevertheless, it can be overcome. I begged her to let me share her grief. She agreed, reluctantly.

ary 2001 222
“This is myfate why should I trouble others with my unhappiness and make them sad?”
“If our sorrows are due to our fate how do we overcome it?' I asked her
There was silence. I waited. Sensing she couldn't dodge me further, she began to unfold her tragic tale.
“It was a very dark and bitterly cold night. like hundreds of others, we were at Kilali waiting to be ferried across the lagoon and to safety, so we thought then. It was a new experience fraught with danger.
“My youngest sister pleaded with mother to return home. Just then we heard someone ordering us to move forward. The crowd surged. We waded into the sea, the water reaching up to our . waists, towards a hut where a solitary petromx was burning. The night sky was studded with innumerable stars, twinking and lighting up the sky as though intent on a body count of those crossing the lagoon.
“Leaving our eldest sister and brother-inlaw behind, six ofus got into a boat. The boatsliced its way through the water churning it We were completely drenched and the bitter cold benumbed us. fear of the dark and the unknown possessed us. Each of us was conscious of the gory incident that befell the passengeers of the motor launch KUMUDINI off Nainativu, a few years back. Our destination was Pooneryn, When we moored at Nallur, a solitary safety lamp that stood like a lighthouse welcomed us. We were relived and happy. But that happiness was short-lived for right across the lagoon, in front of us a bloody drama was being enacteed. Amy helicopters crisscrossed the sky strafing indiscriminately at the people below while Kfir bombers rained bombs from the sky. it was another nightmare. Many were killed and wounded. When day broke news of the tragedy leaked. We learnt that our eldest sister was rolling on the ground and Screaming holding on to the trunkless head of her husband.
“Days passed. Each wretched day brought more sorrow. Sometimes a letter would come from home, which for the time being, at least lightened our days.

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Seventh issue of the THIRD EYE - Janu
"To make matters worse, we were with malaria. It drained us of our health and left us weakend.
“Meanwhile learning that Jaffna was returning to normalcy under army occupation, many began to trek home. Kanagamma Acca and family too, returned, taking the ashes of their dead son to perform the anthiashtty there As we were talking to Gowri Acca, we received a letter from our cousin, Parameshwary.
“Parameshwary informed us that our eldest sister who had been taken in for questioning by the secuity forcees had not returned. A cousin's son, Selvarajah, a teacher, who had gone in search of her, had also not returned. Both were missing. Unable to continue reading further, we rolled on the ground, Weeping.
“Within a month of our brother-in-law’s death, my Sister and my cousin were missing-vanished into thin air. As days passed, the number of missing persons increased. The list seemed endless.
“We were in Puthukudiyiruppu cremating the dismembered pieces of our youngest sister, Bhuvana, when we had news about the exhumation of the decomposed body of Krishanthi in Cheemmany. Bhuvana and nine other children died when Kfir bombers bombed the school where they were studying. Of those who were injured and admitted to the local hospital, three more died. So many innocent lives lost, for what?
"Be it in Jaffna or the Vanni, there were lot of unwanted deaths. Life was cheap indeed. how long would this carnage go on? Isn’t there anyone to save us, Rajan?”
Amutha looked up at Rajan for a moment with tearful eyes, directed her attention elsewhere and contionued.
“After Bhuvana's death, we left Puthukudyirupu and came to Mankulam. We were in a refugee camp for two months. Jegan, our eldest sister's only chlid, was with us. He was my mother's pet and kept us, sane. But he, too fell ill” “He was warded at the local hospital where he heavily dosed with chloroquine and premaquine, to no avail. He started vomiting blood and died soon after'

ary 2001 2 23 (
"Jegan's death broke my mother's spirit. She raved and ranted in her sleep, had hallucinations, told us she had seen our brother-in-law that he had spoken to her......... She said she had also dreamt of our eldest sister, had seen her scarred body.......
“Amma, we have lost everything. How long are we going to live in refugee camps? I am tired of all this. Let me sell this chain of mine and with the proceeds put up a koddil and ..........
“Amutha, my child, what are you talking? You have only this chain left. Don't. . . . . .
"Amma, I am tired of camp life. During these last six months we have spent a lot of money on drugs and funerals. When life itself has lost its meaning what is this chain......... ? Let me at least find a job”
“They killed your father at Nagarkovil, your brother-in-law in Kilali not satisfied with those they have now killed your sister. Who are they going to devor next? Who knows .....?
“Despite my mother's grumbling, I sold my chain, erected a koddil found a job and was beginning to start a new life when . . . . . . . .
“The Government launched “Operation Jayasikiru' intent on opening main highway to the North. At the height of this operation, we came under incessant bombing, shelling and artillery fire. One fateful night, mother who had gone out never returned. We were inside the house, huddled together in fear, when a shell fell nearby and exploded throwing dust, earth and sharpnel all around. When the firing ceased, we called out for mother. There was no reply. We went out, lantern in hand and looked for her, and found pieces of Her body littered all over the place. With her death, all our hopes were lost.
“Three precious lives lost unnecessarily and we three girls orphaned. Today is the 60 day of my mother's death, the day we lost the hope and fount of our lives. Whenever I think of what had happened to us, I cannot but help sing this song. I like it very much it consoles and comforts me. But today, I cannot even sing properly, Rajan'

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Seventh issue of the THIRD EYE - Janu
She wept aloud, head on the table, her entire frame convulsing.
Rajan who was trying to find words to comfort her, found himself weeping why was he weeping? v
Amutha did not understand the reason for Rajan's grief. He, ....... he was crying for the death
of his brothers in a school in Nagarkovil. Their bodies were blown to smithereens.
“l, too, lost my brothers in Nagarkovil. Like you I too had to collect their dismembered bodies, piece by piece.........
We are going to sing happily, together today We are going to sing happily
Like the women of those yester years Are you going to live a crippled life Have a look at the women of today Do have a look at the women on the top
Out of the hearth today how many such women you see
ls cooking only meant for women folk? ls sitting by the hearth their work? If you know about cooking it is a real tactful job So understand we the cooks can do any job under the sun

ary 2001 ) 24 (
Wheir she heard this, Amutha lifted her head and looked at Rajan.
Like milk spilling over from pongal pots, tears flowed from their eyes, like streams unchecked.
s
“Were we born to weep.....
That strain again! Is it real or a figmentalion of a diseased mind? No, no, it is real. It is the song of this land, our land.
Translated By : S. Rajasingam
from the original "Thesaththin Paadal thu' (This is the song of the nation) by Valavai Valavan, Sunday Thinakkural, 25 April, 1999.
If practised we can do any work, all of us If practised we can do any work.
Giving birthto children is the most difficult job you know So we the child bearers can do any job under the
S
On this earth of beauty and richness, know very well 3.
no one is a slave to the other
By nature women and mui Differ but in constituent
hey you woman brave a bit The earth will never let you down
Song Written and composed By:
Group of Culture Activiss Suriya Women Development Centre, Batticaloa.
Transalated By : T. Kirupakaran

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Seventh issue of the THIRD EYE - Janua
Con rott. 21
Shoe flower Why can't you produce fruits?
Naga Thevi is his best poem where the ancient mother who sits on a cobra pedestal attracts pilgrims: Sinhala and Tamil pilgrims. It is an ancient shrine dating from the prehistoric period.
The poet drives us to our ancient roots so that she can suck out the poison of evil from our soil to bring peace.
She gives us her joy Our grief she may destroy .........
A Solider and his Ouestions
Voice faltered Due to trembling The solider clad in khaki was rummaging in me.
That I took up the world And filled my pockets with it was the fear within him.
With fiery eyes He riddled my whole body A child ran through me.
He looked at my NIC Turned it over Looked again, frowned and asked “What's your name.

ary 2001 ) 25 (
The rhyming couplets of the strict alternative rhyme scheme as Mrs. Amirthanjali Sivabalan has pointed out in her foreword and the tendency of poems like Electricity to sound like a limerick prevents them from developing poetic form.
We hope that this collection from the North will create the necessary ripples in the still Ocean waters of our compassionate isle because as Mr. S. Pathmanathan says “Unfortunately very little is written in English here'.
Rev. Fr. E. Jeyaceelan Lecturer, Department of Linguistics and English,
University of Jaffna,
Jaffna.
Shame indeed That I lost my freedom To one who cannot read. From top to bottom His hands crawled.
With the hands That cannot draw a world map even All over me
He was exploring.
A pain
As if cutting me
with a blunt knife Laying me face down Till I Survive these check-points.
By : Arafath
Translated By : T. Kirupakaran

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Seventh Issue of the THIRD EYE - Janu
TALS TAL AN) 2U
By : R. Murugaiyan
The day before yesterday we managed to make up some stories during the false dawn or thereabouts. After a hearty meal followed by a nap we sprang out of bed and got busy Spreading out these tales fanciful. We blew up forty - fold the life of our rulers and powers - that - were, the lore full of burps and hang-overs and invented Heaven - Paradise. knowing at first-hand the heat and misery of the seafarers clad in rags, their eyes welling with tears grappling with hunger and pain, we blew up their plight
fifty-fold
and constructed Hell a fit aboded for these dammed souls
Let there be gods we said and devils, demons, ghosts along with spirits, dragons, serpents, giants and dinosaurs, Yakkas, Nagas, Angels and what - not And there they were all there Lined up with their retinues arranged neatly in rows and columns housed in their abodes appropriate in well-planned hierarchy with their respective designations and lists of duties Heroes, Heroines and villains, Quarrels, contradictions, fires and fears, combats, battles, invasions and defeats, intrigues, conflicts, talks and pacts all these prepared with meticulous care. We conducted wars, defeated the foes and got defeated (just for a change). We became adept at devising arms reasonably deadly, with magical powers as horrendous as we could imagine We could salvage some of our lost territories and emerge victorious too (usually towards the end.) All these we included in our tales tall the tales we had concocted
the day before yesterday.
The priest, our revered Guru, piously recorded these tales and began to worship the Book page by page ; He lit the Holy Lamp

iary 2001 ) 26 (
and kindled the cinders in the incense - holder, with eyes closed in solemn ceremony chanting mystic syllables in rhythm devotional.
The Priest made some emendations to the Book, now grown Big Added some metaphysics here and there He touched up the Book
polished it, embellished and decorated it; He succeeded in bringing out a version rhetorically rich and fascinating edited, revised and enlarged. He inserted some clauses (favourable, naturally, to those at the summit)
The revered Guru began to deliver Lectures and discourses with musical accompaniment, if necessary He wrote gigantic commentaries, interpretations and explications These were what happend yesterday.
Today, the Guru approached us and claims that the very tales we ourselves had woven
in yester years sanctioned by divine Authority 'Ethical and evangelical considerations the Master declares
make strict and exact adherence imperative’ He is unsparing in his efforts to place such matters before the Supreme and / or the Apex Court (s)
The Master is also resolute About floating gigantic projects to repoduce and publish encyclopaedic volumes and volumes of interpretative theses and treatises.
He - the Priest, the Guru, the Master is vociferous, insistent, loud and firm He sounds so confident and impressive followers gather around him. May his tribe increase! His herd is so vast their clamour shatters our poor, fragile ear - drums.
The Tales we made up of yore slowly we have come to accept as True in their modified version
(Transcreated by the author from the Tamil Original)

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Seventh lissue of the THIRD EYE - Janu
TO TOS WO DID NOT QTUQN
K. Sivapalan
Trincomalee.
The mournful funeral march plays for the soldier who was lucky to have returned in one piece In Uniform and Boots and Buttons with a golden sheen.
In another village mother and the widow or is she not still one? mourn with pain in mind of their son and husband who is missing for so long.
2 MINSCNC
(Children's Poems)
By: M. Saravanapava lyer
Lyn Ludowyk quoting lan Jack defined poetry's essential quality as "the glass seems empty because it is full of water". This is the first sensation one gets when one reads oetry that comes out of Jafna. Either the half of the Peninsula that is left for a pretence of normalcy has stifled all lyrical poetic sounds or it is immersed in a demented forgetfulness and pushed back into the uterus and childhood memories. It is in this context that Saravanapava lyer's (30) beautiful poems for children make exciting reading.
Kurumpeettiter is such a poem which drives us back to the unalloved memories of a Jaffna child. E. garden has enough kurumpas allen, but it becomes precious in the child's eye.
This is only one of the crystals in the liminid fountain of Saravanapava lyer's poems ooze with the very dhvani of Jaffna's war torn essence. The Female pup (16) is full of
this war time ethos.
"No water no food, lot of pain Survival was the greatest gain I am in the municipal cart, Reminds me all "disappeared charts"

ary 2001 X27X
Was he captured and tortured? Or was he maimed or done away with will he return in one piece one day Even in tattered clothes.
For whose benefit or for what are they Losing their lives for? When lives of the poor are in tatters War mongers thrive and live in Luxury and with power When the poor and the unfortunate Mourn forever.
The bird imagery :selfish master's beautiful jail" in Parrot in a cage (17) and
W birds were all my friends, Wings of eagles made little fright Springs of snakes, difficult to fight"
in Lonely squirrel. In billy goat (20) man was leading with innocent heart"ends with in the name o God, he was hacked. The Bullock cart (9) screeching its usual voice, always makes that painful noise" is the correct words in the correct place.
"Bombers pierced through the air, Bullock carts made immediate cover. Suffering pathful bullock cart, Jaffna people never forget"
is full of the Jaffna's wartime pathos. The words loaded with the correct resonance a mixture of joy as in the Umbrella (100) and the January pongal (S), Happiness (14) and Marbles (17).
Balloon Face (19) remindes us of the "Human Race different colours six different faces. Air escaped from those Lords? All are equal in the yards.
The final two poems The Oil Press (29) and Water (30) with its Jaffna agrochemical pol
lution seals our fate as Sehindler's List.
Rev. Fr. Je. Jeyaceelan
Lecturer, Department of Linguistics and English University of Jaffna, Jaffna.

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Seventh issue of the THIRD EYE - Jan
LT
Vairamuthu Suntharesan
E.L.T.C. University of Jafna.
Bearing our own little hut We move on. with our delicate frail body We move on no secret
We seek refuse In this fragile shell, Whenever threats are posed
To our life.
We eat and we sleep Endowed we are with our senses Evident are the feelers
CMn Ol heads o
The Casket Brought
Pon. Ganesh
As I promised There were lot of things In abundance to bring for you in the lovely Casket of my soul.
Dead-tired, arriving At the sea beach tourist Inn I was resurrected with the shower of bath ; At a distance, the sky was devouring The Sea, The waves unmindul of me, Entwining themselves in so many forms Einbroided with silver foams on the carpet of beach Where the Small crabs, played Throwing their tiny eyes
To and fro.
I drew a picture on the golden sand. A squirrel, out of a branch of the tree Sprouted, all of a sudden With a message, which I have jot down. In the middle of the grove,

uary 2001
At moments of crisis neither do we spring Nor flee.
only retreating into the shell Conceal ourselves.
May be our huts get Smashed Our flesh crushed, With no warning. Yet devoid of sinister motive ls our life
We do not cling On to the foot And suck thy blood As leeches do.
nor does the caterpillar's poisonous fur Grow in our frame.
Even in death, We leave our flesh and blood Α feast for birds.
The silver-breasted white - skinned Nymphs, floating freely in the Swimming pond Happened to be packed, I'm afraid, In the lovely casket, which I made for you to bring things in.
also packed are my native Inconveniences, experienced At the dining table Making my hands as forks and spoons.
Collecting such things beauties I set off home Along the streets burning with Flames of dust on these dog - days When getting up and down from the bus At every sentry point of the Camouflaged Forces, Alas All these treasures were lost Somewhere on the way Like the beautiful white dove Snatched away by a mid-night cat. When returned home, Amids the blaring and incessanet noises of the rice mills And of the devilish heavy vehicles Carrying bags and bags of paddy husks I am done away with the empty casket, broken Lying on the porch of my home,

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Seventh issue of the THIRD EYE - Janua
TIE TLGTLSS BUTTRTLY
(A Workshop Play) THE SCRIPTWRITER'S EXPERIENCE
S.M. Felix
"The Flightless Butterfly", a production of the English Language Teaching Unit of the Eastern University of Sri Lanka, was staged at the Inter University English Drama Festivals organised by the Drama Society (DRAMSOC) of the Colombo University, on 19th August 2000, at the Bishops College Auditorium.
The backstage story of "the Flightless Butterfly" is as interesting as the play itself. As soon as intimation was received regarding the Drama Festival, Mr. Jeyasankar, from the Department of Fine Arts, Eastern University, Sri Lanka contacted the Staff of the English Language Teaching Unit (ELTU) and the process was set on motion. If I remember it correctly, the first preparatory meeting was held under a banyan tree near the ELTU block, somewhere in April. Mr. Jayasankar (Dept. offine Arts) Mr. Kirupacaran and Mr. Felix (both from ELTU) and a handful of students attended the meeting. A lively discussion took place which centered round a number of issues mainly war - related Every participant, without exception, was of the opinion that the Eastern University should stage a play at the Drama Festival and that the theme should be related to the prevailing war situation, not necessarily the cause, but the effects on the long suffering people. Having decided on the theme, the meeting adjourned agreeing to meet on a daily basis.
As decided the group met everyday. As the discussion progressed, more students joined in and a short story in Thamil by V. Gowripalan was found to appeal to the groups expectations. The legend of the King who built the famous Kanthalai Tank forms the background to this story. The theme of the play was found to be very relevant to the contemporary society in the North and East of Sri Lanka. After elaborate discussions, the group decided on Gowripalans short story and work commenced immediately on a scene - by - scene approach.
I was entrusted with the task of writing the script of the play. After detailed discussions, facilitated by Jayasankar; I sat down to pen the

ary 2001 229.
first scene. The first scene was important. It had to set the mood of the entire play and serve as a harbinger to what was to follow. Ambi, the protagonist of the play, lives in a world of dreams and this effect had to be brought up sharply when the lines were rendered by the characters. Special attention had to be paid to the choice of diction, rhythm and rhyme to give a melodious effect which would be appropriate to take the audience into the world of Ambi. After a series of rehearsals, thanks to the absolute devotion of the participants and the able workshop facilitation of Jayasankar, the task was accomplished.
From the world of dreams in the first scene, it was decided to enter into reality - the past reality, through a flashback. The characters of father and mother dominated this scene, with Ambi playing a sort of passive role. Now events had to be built up leading to the climax. The script for the first scene was in verse form appropriate the dream world, while the second scene was written in prose form in line with reality. The over - ambitious and Over - protective parents of Ambi, as depicted in the second scene, play a major role in moulding the character of Ambi, It is my experience that in a workshop play, the scriptwriter faces a Herculean task. He has to be flexible. He must accommodate the views expressed by the participants, write, re - write and re-shape the script based on the discussions and consensus. The script has to satisfy the expectations of the participants by accommodating their ideas which they might find it difficult to communicate verbally. Script writing for a workshop play is a continuous process with many try - outs until perfection is reached. In a non-workshop play the scriptwriter has his own discretion. However the advantage in workshop plays is that discussions bring out the hidden talents and the creativeness of the participants and the try-outs during the rendering of the dialogue and practice performances lead to perfection. The talents and the creativity of the participants contribute in no less term to its SucceSS.
From the family environment in the secOnd scene, the play moves on to the third scene where Ambi is in the company of his friends. But realities being realities, Ambi cannot reconcile his own dreams with the demands of the competitive world around him. His schoolmates taunt him when he asks "silly?" questions about the

Page 32
Seventh issue of the THIRD EYE - Janu
droves of butterflies going on a legendary pilgrimage to Sri Pada, a Sacred Mountain if Sri Lanka. The contribution of the student participants in the shaping of the third script was very high, as the age group of the characters of the scene was almost the same as those of the participating students. The thrid scene was a mixture of reality and dreams as such two styles of script writing were necessitated. The realism was brought out through the prose form dialogue, while the dream world was created through a flashback in a ballad form.
The fourth scene was equally important. Ambi reaches marriageable age, Ambis mother rejects a proposal because in her view the girl would not make a good daughter-in-law, Ambis mother and his neighbour Rasathi play dominant roles while Ambi plays a passive role. Rasathi is of Ambis age. She has a soft corner for Ambi. She not only understands Ambi but also tries to bring him out of the cocoon he has built for himself. However Ambis mother throws her out of the house, accusing her of trying to seduce Ambi. By this, doors are slamined even on caring hands that reach out to pill Ambi to safety. Of all the scenes, the fourth required great effort. The writing of the script with the main focus on arguments between the mother. vis'ho was as ever protective as before, and Rasathi, who was trying to bring the mother clown to the earth, while Ambi remains a passive onlooker, was the result of much discussion in which the contribution of the students were remarkable. I had to write this scene under time duress as a copy of the script had to be sent to the Organisers of the Drama Festival. I was not settisfied with the first draft, but there was hardly anytime left before the deadline. We decided to send the script to the Organisers first, and to work on it later. The argument between mother and Rasathi in the first draft did not come out very well. When the participants tried out this scene during practice, sessions, the flow became clear not only to me but also to the participating students. They recalled their own experiences to capture the mood of the mother and how a young firl like Rasathi would react to it. Based on this discussion, I re-wrote the dialogue bringing in logical continuity which eventually turned out to be an excellent piece.
The exit of Rasathi was the last straw that broke the camel's back. Ambi withdraws himself deeper into the dream world. He imagines himself to be the trusted charioteer of the legendary King who built the Kanthalai Tank and dreams of "Mullai" the beautiful wife of

ry 2001 Σ 30 (
the charioteer of the King, and in a hallucina
tory moment starts climbing onto the bund of the famous tank, believing that his beloved is
there. Dreams or on dreams, Ambi is arrested under the Prevention of Terrorism Act on suspi
cion of trying to poison the water of the
Kanthalai Tank. This is a reminder of the real life in the war torn areas of Sri Lanka. The vio
lence during arrest, the pathetic situation in
which Ambi finds himself and the communica
tion problem - all these were personal experi
ences of the participants of the workshop. These experiences had to be communicated to the au
dience through the dialogue, expressions and emotional outbursts. The first draft underwent several changes as the students rehearsed the play on the stage. Though arrested, Ambi is released to the custody of his parents on the grounds of his mental unfitness, thus the play avoids becomming polemical. The play ends with the completely disoriented Ambi, at the famous Sri Koneswara Kovil, still in his world of dreams,
with the priests and the workshippers turing their backs on him.
It was a great experience working with Jayasankar and the team of University students - Harihararaj, Lalini, Raje evani, Mythrye, Dharmandhira, Prahashini, Vijiendran and Ithayaraj. The real sense of the word "teamwork" was experienced during the whole of the workshop. Jayasankar was a great communicator. Through on-stage music. Styliced dance. slight but effective costume changes to convey the different characters; he was successful in conveying the theme effectively and to take the play to the realms of the alreatmland in One scene and down to the earth in the next scene.
The tremendous appreciation the play received from the audience at the Drama Festival, and the subsequent reviews in "The Sunday Island" and "The Times of Ceylon", bear testimony to the success story of the workshop. "The Flightless Butterfly" by the Eastern University, finally let the audience in on the evenings entertainment" wrote Nilika de Silva in the Arts Page of "The Sunday Times" of August 27, 2000. "By the common consent of all, including the other students, the Eastern University's production of 'The Flightless Butterfly' stole the evening. It was a production that was not only very relevant in its theme but brilliantly presented with natures beauty and an ancient legend being used to highlight the realities of contemporary life in the Eastern Province'. wrote Ruana Rajapakse in "The Sunday Island" of October 22, 2000.

Page 33
Seventh issue of the THIRD EYE - Jan
“THE FLIGHTLE
A WORK
PART(
A. RAJE EVA
A LALLIN T.
MYTHREYE SC
PREHASHINI
K. HAR
W. DHAR
BRITTO I
P. VIJ
WORK - SHOP FACILITAT S.JEYAS
SC
S.M.
ADAPTED FROM ATH
V. GOW
JULY - AU
WORK - SHOP
ENGLISH LANGUA EASTERN UNIVE

uary 2001
231.
SS BUTTERFLY’
SHOP PLAY
CIPANTS
NEE FRANCIS
SSEVERASINGHE
OMASUNDARAM
JEEVARETNAM
HARARAJ
MIENTHIRA
THAYARAJ
ENDRAN
ION AND STAGE CREATION SHANKAR
RIPT
FELIX
AML, SHORT STORY BY
RPALAN.
JGUST 2000.
ORGANISED BY:
GE TEACHING UNIT, RSITY, SRI LANKA.

Page 34
Seventh issue of the THIRD EYE - Jan
SCEN
(Ambi is on the Bund. In the background is heard bund: sound of a cool breeze: the "tuk, tuk noise while. It is followed by arendering of the verses fr
(The voice is heard from the behind the Scene.)
A hoe ofeightfold directions To cut down a tree of seven span Tapping with a foot to topple, Yet, before it fell A tank he built on earth, And therein filled roaring waters, Oh, virtuous king.
Ambi: Marvelous, Oh, the King Kulakol cutting down the trees of seven sp you built a tank on the earth: filled your patience?
(tuk, tuk: the Sound of the Woodpeckerpecking th
Mullairides the Royal Chariot-passes Ambi. An aloud.
Ambi: Stop, stop the chariot. Mu
Chariot. (runs behind it.)
Chariot stops. Mullai alights from it, waves her ha
Ambi : Ah ha! this indeed is the gi absence is the charioteer (
Mullaimoves on. Ambig
Ambi : Oh, Mullai the Princess c forest. Stop don't run. (M
Soliders: Stop, stop, Don't run. D (Ambiruns. Soliders give
An officer (enters): What's happening? Who
A solider: Sir, he has come to blast
us. We had to give a chas
Officer: Put him in the bunkers. W
A

ary 2001 232 (
E ONE
ank-related Sounds: Sounds of breaking waves on the of Woodpeckerpecking a tree, etc, this goes on for a mthe Stoneinscription ofthetank)
tan, marvelous. Cutting the earth on eight directions: ins, tapping with a foot to topple: and yet, before it fell, , full with water. Oh, Your Majesty, how could I praise
e tree: Sound of the horses hoofs in the background.)
bi, startled, turns his head towards the chariot and cries
llaistop. I’m Muhilvannan, your husband. Stop the
nd at Ambi.
eatness of a wife. May you be glorified-you who in my of the King.
ves chase. Mullairuns, Ambi runsbehind.
f the Forest. Where do you run? Stay, ahead is the ullai leaves the stage.)
uwandaeppa. You'll be shot. chase-catch Ambi. They struggle.)
She?
he tank with bombs. He tried to run away when he saw e before we apprehended him.
e'll see later.
ll exit.

Page 35
Seventh SSue of the THIRD EYE - Janu
Ambi's house:
Ambi:
Father:
Ambi (reads):
Father:
Amma:
Father:
Ambi:
Father:
Ambi (reads):
Ambi: (to himself):
SCEN
Ammaisironing Ambiʼs sh
Amma, shall Iiron my shir
What? How many times I' burn yourfingers'? Do yol
Has Ambistarted minding c he could paint his bookshe learn, (to Ambi) Why do
The King Kulakotan live Kulakotan built the famol known as the Kantale tank
Amma, my Sigiriya Trip?T -mates are going.
That subject's closed
What's it?
Ambi's class's going on at
Sigiriya? You're only iny
But... Amma all my classn
I don’t care about your clas
King Kulakottan had a truste and his beautiful wife Mull the King Kulakottan.
How lucky, my friends, the
Chorus in t
Where're you going my friends? Where're you going?
We're going to Sigiriya, Ambi, We're going to Sigiriya.
Why go there my friends?
Why go there?
To see the majestic rock in its sple Majestic rock in its splendor
What else you see there my friends, What else you see?
Damsels painted on walls, Ambi, Damsels painted on the walls.
Have a good trip, my friends, Have a good trip.
We pity you Ambi, We pity you.

ary 2001 233K
E TWO
irt. Father is painting Ambi's bookshelf.
vetold you not to talk such nonsense. Do you want to |r studies, instead.
ther's business? (To mother) First he asked me whether f. I warned him to mind his own business, He doesn't n’t you do your homework? Or revise your lessons?
d during the 14th century. History records that King is Koneswara Kovil and the tank which is presently
omorrow is the last day forgiving names. All my class
ip to Sigiriya.
arten. You're too young to go there.
hates are going.
ssmates. You're not going.
dicharioteerby the name of Muhilvannan. Muhilvannan aioccupy aspecial place in history as loyal Servants of
y must be getting ready by now.
;he backstage
ndor, Ambi,

Page 36
Seventh issue of the THIRD EYE - Janu
Father:
Mother:
Father:
Mother:
Father:
Ambi : (to himself)
Mother and Father talking to each
These days it's not safe to send cl organize such trips. Who'll guarante
Talk to Ambi's class teachertoo. Ev the trips. I'm oripins until Ambirett llpS. . . .
Identification parades in front of ho parents have. (After a short pause) same always. Do you remember (A
Yes, yes. He wanted to go to the “th Those young boys Wanted to go all allow him. How he cried the whole
But, then I took him myself. I’m su) toygun, AK 47.
Enjoyed? Holding my father's hal
Ch
Who goes with you. Ambi Who goes with you.”
That's his father lihat S hiS futher
Why hold his hand. Ani. Why hold his hand."
For his safety of course, For his safety
What see youthere, Ambi What see youthere?
What shows his father? What shows his father?
You see ther, Ambi You see ther?
(Ambi):
Father:
Mother:
Father:
Mother:
Father:
Father in between Ther and me, ther and me
(turning towards Ambi) Ambi rur agingerbeer. The Smell of this pai Two panadol-three rupees, ginge, (Ambis getting ready to leave) thre Wait, Ambichange your blackshi
Go along the side of the road. Loc road, talking to your friends.
Don't go in yourjeans, Wear short
Ambi looks too big for his age.
He can get his I.C. only next year.

ary 2001 34 s
ther. ildren anywhere. I don't understand why schools : the safetyofour children?Imust talk to the principal.
ensending the children to School is a risk, leave alone rns home from School-explosions of bombs, round
oded men ...... what and what responsibilities we We're giving Ambithe best we can. It’s been the mbi listens) when Ambi was seven years old?
er” festival with the children oftheneighbourhood. by themselves. I clearly remember you refused to evening. He even refused to take dinner.
e he enjoyed it. I even bought him an ice cream and a
ld, being dragged behind.
OS
up to the corner shop and get me two panadol and it causes me migraine. Take this twenty-rupee note. beer thirteen fifty that's sixteen fifty, the balance is
e fifty.
rt. There’re army men all over the place.
k on both sides before you cross don't stand on the
... You look small in that.

Page 37
Seventh issue of the THIRD EYE - Janu
Father:
(Ambi is about to leave with anem
You wait. The army convoy usually (Father leaves with the empty bottl
(1“Ther'-Achariot on which images of Hindu during Kovil Festivals.)
Scene.
(Advanced Level class setting)
Teacher:
Student l:
Teacher:
Ambi:
Student 3:
Teacher:
Student 2:
Teacher:
Student 3:
Ambi:
Student 1 : (to Ambi)
Student2:
Teacher:
Student3 : (to Ambi):
Teacher: (to student 3)
(Continues)....Our next topic is the classification. You should be thorol
Five marks are awarded for classif afford to lose any marks on this. No the egg, the caterpillar or the larva, butterfly.
If you have any questions you may
Miss, do all insects have this type o
No, not all.
Miss, Swarms ofbutterflies fly tow their lifecycle?
They go on a pilgrimage, if you like
Silence. That's out of point. Nobo studied the question papers of the butterflies this year.
Ambi's always like that Miss, askir
Your time is short, but the syllabus for your exam.
(to Ambi): ask that question again.
Miss, what I want to say is ........
Shut up, don't start your T.V. serial
Ambi wanted to join the Arts streal
That's immaterial. Now you're het wantyou to become doctors. It's yo enter the university, that I have my
(quietly) Archimedes is going to as Miss has not answered your Kathi Wants to ask a question.
Ramesh, you’re spilling Ambi. Are Ambi: But, Miss, butterflies...

lary 2001 , 35
pty gingerbeer bottle).
y passes at this time. You better do your studies.
e)
gods are placed and drawn by bullocks along Streets
- Three
life cycle of the butterfly. We've already dealt with the gh in that Section.
ication and ten marks for the life cycle. You can't win the life cycle of the butterfly there are four stages; the chrysalis or the pupa, and the adult, that is the
ask me. Only up to this point. flife cycle?
'ards Kathirgamam in January every year. Is it part of
you too can join them. (All students laugh)
dy is going to ask this question in the exam. I have past five years. And I'm sure there'll be a question on
ng questions out ofthe syllabus.
is wide. You must pick and choose what's necessary
(to teacher) Miss, Ambi wants to ask a question.
.... butterflies are beautiful...
again. You should have studied in the Arts stream.
mMiss. His father only put him here.
re, you must work hard. (to all students) Your parents ur duty to fulfill their ambitions. How many of you will doubts.
kan important question. gamam question, ask her. (To teacher): Miss Ambi
you his mouthpiece?

Page 38
Seventh issue of the THIRD EYE - Jan
Teacher
Student 1:
Teacher:
Ramesh:
Ambi:
Students:
Student3:
Ambi:
All students:
Student3.
Student 1:
Student2:
Student3:
Stuent 2:
Ambi:
MaheS:
I’ve told you a number of times, It's the aggregate marks that count memorise, then don't expect to en
(to Ambi): You and your butterflie (to teacher) Ignore Ambi Miss, he time has been wasted.
All right. One of you read these n (Teacher hands over the noteboc
Ambi, read these notes aloud. Co Ambi, butterflies, beautiful, veryb
Yes Ramesh, they're beautiful, The petal like wings. lovely hues c So Soft and smooth, And on each of which a pattern st With lovely pink and purple spots See how they glide, Flapping their Wings
So gently,
Like a ballet dancer (Ambi is absorbed in his thoughts
Wa. Wonderful, you're a philosop
Ambi. once more.
(Continues) Hundreds and hundreds ofbutterf On their way to Kathirgamam. Their shadows like clouds Covering the green grass below Like the Souls of the departed Flying in the clear sky. Oh, how I wish
I was there.
Eureka, eureka, our Archimedesl
At this rate, Archemedisll becom
Mendel or Mental.
Not only Ambi, all of us will befly Who knows? Ambio'|| become a
To treat us. (All laugh)
Mahes....
Oh, leave uS Ambi. We’ve better (They take the notebook from An

uary 2001 36 (
passing the A/L is not enough. . Whateveryou study, you must memorise. If you don't ter the University. -
S. lives infantasyland. (To Ambi) Because of you a lot of
otes aloud, others take down, Do it quietly.
k to Ramesh and leaves)
me to the front. (Ambicomes to the front) eautiful, aren't they?
fdifferent shades,
ands.
s
. Students mime the actions.)
her, Ambi.
lies
has done it again (all laugh).
.ne Mendel.
ving like butterflies. (Mine the action)
mental doctor, one day.
things to do than listen to your Mini Ramayana. nbi and leave)

Page 39
Seventh issue of the THIRD EYE - Janu
Ambi: (to himself): How happy you must
Oh, butterfly, how I remain, So lonely, dejected, No one to share My feelings with...
Voice: How he remains,
So lonely, dejected, No one to share His feelings with
Chorus:
But the water of the lovely tank The gentle breeze. The butterflies In there thousands Drifting over the woods So dark and deep, The call of the birds, The far horizon Are all yours, Ambi. Your world Is your Own Ambi.
Scene
(Ambi's house. "Ambi is seated, lost in his though
Ambi's mother: Ambi, see who's knocking (from another room) from morning. Sitting there four years, Since you failed
(Ambirather reluctantly walks to the door and open
Ambi: (forgetting himself): A....i.
Rasathi: Stop this madness. Call me
all the time.
Ambi: (takes it, then after a seconc
Rasathi: You're in a dull mood, Am posal? Forget that. Why d
Ambi: (getting lost in his thoughts)
She was so beautiful. Smiled at me Solovingly. Moved like a Swan,
Clad in rainbow colours. Mullai waiting ready to emb Beside the “Ther' on the b: Butterflies in their thousand Heralding the good newS. Of life So Sweet
Rasathi: But, your mother didn't lik
Ambi: Oh, how she longed to talk

ary 2001 237
be
- Four
tS. A knock on the door is heard)
on the door. I don't know what you've been doing and just brooding. You've been doing this for the last your A/L.
sit. Rasathi comes in, holding a Weekly inher hand.)
Mulla....i.
Rasathi. Here readthis "Thinamurasu without idling
thought-what's the use? Everything is over for me.
bi. Are you’re still worrying about... about that proloyou want to take it so seriously?
brace Muhilvannan, anks of the tank
S
e her.
tO MEC.

Page 40
Seventh issue of the THIRD EYE - Jan
Rasathi:
Mother (angrily):
Rasathi:
Mother:
Rasathi:
Mother:
Rasathi (getting angry):
Mother:
RaSathi:
You talked to her Ambi (Mother overhears the col
Talk to her, Ambi didn'tg whether she would be ag Ambi. What a disgrace?
We, the elders were seate take Ambito a side and ta
What did Ambi do? Aunt
What's there for him to do' and there, in the presence from her.” I left the place
Ambi's very much worrie
Worried? (Noticing the w angry) How dare you giv way you talk to him. Why have no business with him on to my son.
Oh, your son is Salmon K) your Son, how crazy he is, still tell him what to do, w given him a chance to dec compelled him to do Scie subjects. When he failed world's different. Ambib Remember that, oh, how I
You needn't tell me about Weekly from Ambi’s han Let this beyour last visitt
(gathers the Weekly) (toh (She leaves)
Scen
Ambi is on the Chariot, waiting for the king.
Mullaiappears on the balcony, Ambi is excited; F
Ambi jumps down from the chariot.
Ambi: Oh my princess, there on the balcony,
Mullai, Mullai.
(tries to climb up the balcony,but his feet slip. Am
Ambi:
AmbimurmurS:
Mullai, Mullai, Where dic Ambisearches for Mullai Ambi, hold him tight and
Mulai, Mulla...i

uary 2001 38 (
versation as she enters)
) there to talk to her. We went there to see the girl..... od daughter-in-lawforme. Butshe wanted totalkto
talking about dowry and donation.... she wanted to lk. Shame. Decent girls don't do that.
y?
Ambi's not brought up in thatmanner. Itold him then pf all: "Ambithis is not the girl for you. Let's get out immediately taking Ambi with me.
daunty.
eekly in Ambi's hand) You gave him that? (Getting him this and that to entice my son'? I don't like the I do you want to talk to him about his marriage? You . Girls of yourage should have modesty, trying to hang
han, for me to go behind him. Everybody knows about you think he’s stilla baby. He’s twenty-five years. You hat to eat, how to dress and how to walk. You've never ide on anything. It's because of you he's like this. You nce subjects in A/L, how much he wanted to do Arts the exam, you put the blame on him. Aunty, now the elongs to this world, our World, and not your World. pity him. my son. And we don't need your pity, either (grabs the ds and throwsitat Rasathi.) o this house. Never step into this house again, never.
terself) These people never change. Poor Ambi.
e - Five
He waves his hand at Mullai. She waves back at him.
bitries again, searches for Mullai up in the balcony)
you go? My angel, my princess, my goddess. , running here and there, excited. Policemen enter, catch take him away.

Page 41
Seventh lissue of the THIRD EYE - Janu
Court Scene
Scer
(Lawyers, Ambi's father, mother and others) Judge Judge sits and others follow Suit.
Court Mudaliyar:
Ambi:
Mudaliyar:
State council:
Judge:
Ambi:
Judge (to the lawyer):
State council:
Case No: PC 1316 Kantal The accused is Nathan Vad Arrested under the Prevent (To Ambi) Repeat what I say:
I say the truth, and nothing
Your Majesty, Iknow nothi
(getting angry) Repeat only Your majesty, sh... no, no. What I say is the truth..... (Grabs Ambi's hand, force
My lord, the accused is cha attempt to poison the water of villagers.
Are you guilty or not guilty.
Your Majesty, I was searchi me here.
What does he say?
My Lord, the behaviour of report (submits) supports in wishes to withdraw the cas
Judge (after reading the medical report): Ac
(Temple Setting)
im
C2S of
Th
Scene
Voice: Koneswaram Kovil
On the hilltop The sky above And the sea below, Serene atmosphere. Images of gods Showering Blessings On crowds of devotees, Chanting prayers. KoneSWaram
Koneswaram.

ary 2001 ) 39 (
le Six
enters. Ambi is in the box.
vel alias Ambi. ion of Terrorism Act.
but the truth.
ng, but Mulai.
what I say. ... my Lord,
Shim to take oath)
rged under the Prevention of terrorism Act, with an in the reservoir which serves hundreds and hundreds
ng for Mullai in the balcony, when the guards brought
the accused has been found abnormal, this medical ny Statement, under these circumstances, the state e against the accused.
cording to this report, the accused suffers from mental balance. He needs psychiatric treatment. I dismiss this e and order the accused to be released to the custody nis parents.
e court is adjourned. (Judge leaves.)
Seven

Page 42
Seventh issue of the THIRD EYE - Jan
Ambi:
Wonnan l:
Woman l:
Woman 2:
Ambi:
Ambi:
Ah, ha.
Marvelous,
Oh, King Kullakottan Your service is noble. How this enchanting atmosphere Mesmerises me. My cuckoo bird of the garden of Mullai,
Where have you gone? Konesha Kovil Festivity at its peak, Why do you elude me, My Mullai? (Voices of women are heard) ah, that's the voice Of the angel of my heart It's the melody that lingers Long after the cuckoo bird And the mynah bird have Sung. (A group of womengo past Ambi
hey, come quickly, the pooja’s ab
Aai, Mullai. I m here. Where do you go? (Ambi pulls the handofa womar
He's mad. Why did you slap him.
NonSense.
Ai, Mullai.
You slapped me? (Ambitries to go near the Woma
(loud) Oh King
Is this your royal justice? You removed my Mullai And allowed your guards Is this your justice? Is this your justice? (turning to the audience) Is this your justice?
En

uary 2001 ) 40 (
lowers
out to begin.
1. She slaps him.)
1. Guards of the temple assault Ambi.)
rom me. to assault me.
d Scene.

Page 43
Seventh issue of the THIRD EYE - Janu
GREEN GREEN C
A PLAY ON ENVIR
BY: S. JEY
TRANSLATED BY:
ALL: We’re men, (2)
With money in our hands, Diseases in our bodies. Sky is ours, Earth is ours, All living creatures-all ours. When these thoughts vanish, Sky opens, earth blooms, (2) Innocent creatures-delighted, Green, Greengrass of home flourishes.
We come singing and dancing, Dancing and singing We come. To live in green greenland, With all living creatures, Injoy and happiness.
Rushing Waters, Blowing winds, Green lands, rich resources, Grass and Weeds, insects and Worms, Birds, beasts, men and all To live in peaceful world, A world to roam with desire.
MEN: Oh!...Oh!
For us, for us
Knowledge grew,
Skills grew Men are coming, they're coming To rule the world With knowledge.
MEN: For us. for us.
For me, for me.
Aha! The whole world is forus, for us, All living creatures for us, forus For us, for us All forme, forme. For us, forus,
For me, for me.

ary 2001
RASS OF HOME.
ONMENTAL ISSUE
ASANKAR
S.M. FELIX
Σ 41.

Page 44
Seventh issue of the THRD EYE - Jan
ONE: ALL: ONE: ALL. ONE: ALL:
ONE:
ALL:
MEN:
BIRD:
ANIMAL:
MAN:
INSECT:
INSECT:
MEN:
BRD:
SONG:
The world belongs to me Aha! For us. All rivers belong to me Aha! For us. Flowers bloom for me. Yes, yes, forme. Mother earth showers her blessing For us, for us.
Cut down, chop down, Pull down buildings.
Get Scorched Inside woods of buildings.
Weinstall A.C We drink cold drinks.
Chop down, cut down Turn and roll.
Deposit them in the bank,
In the bank. That's growth, That’s development. Money is growing, is growing In the bank, in the bank. Look, earth is drying, drying Contamination is increasing, Is increasing. Dangerous diseases Arrive like plague, Take us away Imajiffy. Injection we take, Inhale we do. With needles we prick, Through noses, we pull. Oh no. Health is Wealth Maximyou not listen Suffer you before you heed. We know all that We can do all that.
Shukpuk, shuk puk, sl Shuk puk, shuk puk sl Let's build mills, let's build roads, Let's build dams to divert riverS.
Shuk puk, Shuk puk, sl Shuk puk, shukpuk sl
Thickets ofbuildings, clatter of ma Annihilate life, annihilate life.

uary 2001 ) 42 (
gS
nuk puk, shuk puk
nuk puk shuk puk
nuk puk, shuk puk
nuk puk shuk puk
achines,

Page 45
Seventh lissue of the THIRD EYE - Jan
BRD:
INSECT:
BIRD:
GREATMEN:
ANIMAL:
Shuk puk, shuk puk, sh Shuyk puk, shuk puk sh
Let's build dams to divert rivers, Let's destroy forests to make field
Natural resources shall rapidly fall, From earthshall disappear.
Shuk puk, shuk puk, sh Shuykpuk, shuk puk sh
Let's destroy forests to make field. Avoid minor crops for major crop
Abodes of the rich, widen, widen, Huts ofpoor multiply, multiply.
Shuk puk, shuk puk, sh Shuyk puk, shuk puk sh
Shall use manure to increase yields Shall use medicine to prevent deso
Bodies become poisonous balls, Wiltinailment day andnight.
Men in world, Minus grass and Weeds, insects an Birds and Snakes, animals and all.
Shuk puk, shuk puk, sh
Counting of profit within the mind, Poisonous ball in the body So live men ... in ailment
Great men of men, here come we Eliminate we the shortco Produce we artificial food With rapidly growinganin Serve usin our ways Grant you loans too, on pl
Men who swallow menarrive, Arrive those who destroy with knc
Explored the deepest of the deep Split the smallest of the small aton
Journeyed the widest of the wide Talked in the communications oft Began to create life artificial.
You may wander wherever, You may do whatever, How do we live here?
(Scorching heat, heavy floods, earthquake invade

iary 2001
ukpuk, shuk puk kpuk shuk puk
ukpuk, shuk puk ukpuk shukpuk
ukpuk, shuk puk ukpuk shuk puk
lation.
d Worms
ukpuk, shuk puk
mings of the poor S hals and crops,
ans made.
)wledge.
SCaS,
LS.
Space, he satellites.
he stage)
243.
نسل

Page 46
Seventh issue of the THIRD EYE - Jar
BIRD:
INSECT:
ANIMAL:
ALL:
ANIMAL:
INSECT:
ALL.
BIRDS:
Burning winds, Scorching Sun.
Sandengulfs riverbeds.
Heavy rains, Scorching Sun, sever
Unlike in the past, why do they co Why dothey come, why do they Why do they come often?
Thundering storms, infuriated Sea
Admonishing earth, destructiblek
Unlike in the past, why do they cc Why dothey come, why dothey Why do they come often?
We removed the head to keep on Removed the ears to keep on the Removed the mouth to keepinth Destroyed nature to make artificia Sold Our eyes to buy painting,
Sowed poison, reaped destructio
Animals, trees:
Men come To live in unison with nature To be part of nature. Come men who love nature Come men who understand natur Let the angered earth cool down Let all world prosper.
We men come to see the new age We cool the angered earth We make the whole world prosp We live as part of nature We live in unison with nature. Men we come to see the new ag
All creatures to live in unison The skies open, the earth blooms Creatures delightedinfulfillment Green green grass of home in per
All creatures live in joy We come dancing In the Green green grass of home We come dancing and singing.

juary 2001
2 mist, floods
me in plenty, come?
s
nowledge.
me in plenty, come?
the thighs, shoulders, e bellies,
lity
.
fection.

Page 47
Seventh issue of the THIRD EYE - Janu
TEARS O
CHILDRE
B
S.JEYAS
EASTERN UNIVE
BASED ON
'PAALUKKU PALAHAN' E
ADAPTED FROM THE ORIGINA
TRANSLATED
E
S.M.
EASTERN UNIVE

ary 2001 ) 45
F THE CHILD
EN'S PLAY
Y
SANKAR
RSITY, SRI LANKA.
| THE PLAY
BY M. SHUNMUGALINGAM
L STORY BY ANTONIO GRAMSCI.
INTO ENGLISH
3 Y
FELIX
RSITY, SRI LANKA.

Page 48
Seventh issue of the THIRD EYE - Jan
TEARS OF
at the front stage. When the curtain rises, all the ch a single crow, which then returns to its place. Now about nervously and speaks.)
Mousie:
Mousse:
Goatie:
Mousie:
Goatie:
Mousie:
Goatie:
Mousie:
Goatie:
Mousie:
Goatie:
Mousie:
Goatie:
Mousie:
Goatie:
(Mousie thinking):
Mead:
Mousie:
Mead:
Mousie:
Mead:
Mousie.
Mead:
Mousie:
Mead:
Mousie:
My heavens! I've drunk th go for milk now? The chil
(AS Mousse is thinking tim delightedly)
Let megoto Goatieakka Hi Mousiethambi! Why Could you give me some 1 Milk? Why do you needn
I drank the milk of a sleep (The child screams. Mous Oh, no Mousie thambi. It existing on dry leaves and (thinks) What do I do for Thambi, you do one thing. What? You find mesome greeng Is it true? You'll give men Yes, certainly. All right. I'll return withg Bye! (AS Mousie hurries away Take carethambi, take ca
Yes, yes, let me go to Me (Runs) Meadow-amma,n Why do you run like this: Ohno, nothing like that Oh come on! What can I
Please, Meadow amma, c Grass? Don't you seemy ask me for grass, what ca What can I do for grass nic What? Achild crying?
Yes, I drank the milk of as she wants green grass.
So, you can do one thing. If I give you water, you'll

uary 2001 ) 46 (
THE CHILD
aracters on stage cawthrice, followed by the cawing of the child cries, which makes Mousie excited. He runs
le child's milk! What a dreadful thing! Where can I d's is screaming. Where do I go for milk now?
idly, Goatie bleats. Mousie gets encouraged and Speaks
! Goatieakka,Goat-tieakka! do you come so hurriedly? milkpleaseakka?
hilk now?
ing child. She's awake now and crying for milk. ie runs to the child hurriedly and returns.) 's a longtime since I’d a good meal of grass. I'm just twigs. How can I give you milk?
milk now?
rass and I'll give you milk. nilk if I give you greengrass?
reengraSS. (Runs, Stops) Bye!
, Goatie speaks) re
adow amma!
neadow-amma!
'Why are you so excited? Is the Caty chasing you?
need a favour from you now.
do for you?
ould you give me some grass, please? pathetic condition? I’m so dry without water. If you in I do?
w? The child may still be crying
sleeping child. I went to Goatie akka for Some milk, and
If you give me water, I'll give you greengrass. give me greengrass?

Page 49
Seventh lissue of the THIRD EYE - Janu
Mousie:
Mead: Why not? If not you, whol Mousie: Promise? Mead: Definitely, for the sake ofth Mousie: OKMeadow amma, so I'll Mead: Goodluck. Bye! (M. (Meadow amma speaks): Take care, take car Mousie: (pauses) By (Thinks) - Wh (Thinks again) Ah (Mousie runs and jumps is start).
Pondo: Oh, you frightened me! Wh Mousie: That's alongstory. Pondot Pondo: Without getting excited, co Mousie: It's asad story thatha! I dral awake now and crying form for some milk. she'll given please give me some water Pondo: Water? Where can I go for Mousie: Somehow you must give m
please thatha! Pondo: Don’t irritate me without lis Mousie: All right. (Laughing teasing
· Pondo: I'm in a broken down cond (Frogie comes leaping tow Mousie: What's this? Oh Frogieboy Frogie: Hi. Mousie Where to? Int Mousie: I need water. That's why I ( (Frogie laughs with a loud ( Mousie:(angrily): Why do you laugh now? Frogie: Water? It's funny! We our
(A crane lands near) Frogie: Craneyakka Welcome! Mousie: You look Scorched? Craney: There's no water in any po Frogie: Look here. Look at my bac Craney: Oh, it's dam hot!
(Mousie annoyed, scratche
Mousie: Waita minute. Oh I forgot
at least a little water. (The child cries. Frogie an
Pondo thatha, the child is c)

ary 2001 47 (
get greengrass from me?
e child.
find some water for you!
Dusie hurries away).
e
el
ere can I go for water?
let me go to Pondo thatha! front of the sleeping Pondo. Pondo wakes up with a
y do you jump like this? hatha!
me out with your story.
nk the milk of asleeping child overthere. The child is hilk. There's no milk anywhere. I went to Goatie akka ne milkif I give her water. So Pondo thatha will you 2
water?
e some water. Pondo thatha, please say ‘yes“. Oh,
tening. Youlistento my story first. ly) Go ahead, I'm listening.
ition, so all the water has leaked out ards Mousie, croaking)
f
his hot Sun?
came here. croak.)
selves are dry without water.
nd or pool. k-prickly heat everywhere - itching!
s Frogie's back and says)
my mission! Pondo thatha, my Sweet thatha, give me
d Craney run to her and console her). ying. .

Page 50
Seventh issue of the THIRD EYE - Jan
Pondo:
Mousie: (excited)
Pondo:
Mousie:
Pondo:
Mousie:
Mousie:
Mason:
Mousie:
Mason:
Mousie:
Mason:
Mousie:
Mason:
Mousie:
Mason:
Mousie:
Mason:
Mousie:
Mousie:
Mousie (angrily):
Craney:
Mousie:
You do one thing. Bring a
OK OK.just wait! I'llbri (Mousie attempts to run)
No, No, don’t run like tha
Thank you, Thankyou. B.
Bye! (Mousie runs, stops and th
Now I must go to the mas (Mousie mimes a child dri Goatie shouts as if to Scolc
Sorryakka! (Mousie drives forward to ward fast, brakes and horr
Oh, it's you, Mousie tham Will you do mea favour? What favour? What can I The pond needs mending. Mending is a simple thing That's why I'm idling. So what to do now? Do one thing.
What?
If you give me stones I’ll n Then I'll bring the stones. Yes. I’ll do this help for y (Mousie runs, stops and th
Where can I go for stones (Frogie, Goatie, Craneyal
angrily).
Hi you all - will you pleast (They all laughloudly).
I'm tellingyou!
O.K., O.K. We'll not shou
(thinking) (Jumps in deligh We'll go to Mountainman
(Mountain mama and mami are in a deep sleep Sno
Mt. 1:
Mt. 2:
Mousie:
Mt 2:
I hear Someone calling. Yes, I too. Just see who'?
Mountain mama.
Who's that?

ary 2001 48.
mason and mend the pond. Then I can give you water.
ng the mason. I'll bring him now.
! Go slowly. Take your own time! 'e.Thank you. Bye.
inks).
n. Where can I find the mason? Yeah! ving a car, reverses, knocks against Goatie and brakes. l Mousie.)
mason who remains still. Mousie reverses, comes for ls. Mason jumps with a start).
bi. What's the matter?
do for you? Will you menditforme?
. But I don't have stones, cement or timber.
nend the pond.
our sake, Mousie. inks).
now? ld crow - all make noises. Mousie - disturbed-shouts
stop shouting, Let methink!
t! You think
t).
ha. (Shouts) Mountain ma........ ma!
ring. Mousie is pulled in and pushed out by the snore).

Page 51
Seventh issue of the THIRD EYE - Jan
Mousie:
Mt 1:
Mt. 2:
Mousie:
Mt:1:
Mt 1 & Mt 2:
Mousie:
Mt 1 :
Mousie:
It's me.
He says it's me.
Me?
I'm Mousie. Oh. It's you. Come come What's the matter?
I need some stones. I cam Why do you needstones) I'm hungry.
(Mountainmama and mami laugh).
Mt. 1:
Mousie:
Mt. 1 & Mt 2:
Mousie:
Mt. 1:
Mt. 2:
Mousie:
Mt 1:
Mt 2:
Mousie:
Mt. 1 & Mt 2:
Mt. 1:
Mousie:
Goatie:
Mousie:
Mt. 1:
Meadow:
Mousie:
Pondo thatha:
Mt. 1:
Mousie:
Mt. 2:
Mousie:
You needstones for that?
Waitaminute. Let me fin O.K., O.K. You go ahead I drank the milk of a child Milk is good for the body That's why Mousie thamb Don't crack jokes. We're cracking jokes? You're cracking jokes. My God, you're confusir All right, all rightyou cont We’ll not interrupt you. I drank the milk of a sleep (Goatie speaks) Mousie thambicame to m She Saidshe would giver Then? (Meadow speaks. Mt. 2 Mousie thambicame ton
She said she would give
Thambicame to me.
What did he say? He would give waterifth Then what? I approached the mason.
Now the child Screams. Mousie jumps about in
her.
Mt. 1:
You Seethambi. The tree; for firewood.

ary 2001 XI 49.
e for that
low?
sh.
.
over there.
bihas climbed to the mountain top to play.
gme. inue.
ing child. She's awake now and crying for milk.
le formilk. ne milk if I gave her greengrass.
eans towards the Sound)
C. me grass if I gave her water.
epond was mended.
That’s why I came here for stones.
:onfusion. Frogie leaps towards the child and consoles
all overus have been cut down for building houses and

Page 52
Seventh issue of the THIRD EYE - Jan
Mt. 2:
Mt. :
Mousie:
Mt. 2:
Mt. :
Mousie:
Mt. :
The rains have washed aw
All the stones are exposec Furthermore if you take th
You need not worry. Whe She'll befond of you!
That's our wish too. We'll
Please tell all the children
Yes, we all will pl So here you take the Ston Mimes as ifrolling down
Frogie stays still. Goatie pushes him away withh
Goatie:
Frogie:
Mt. :
Mt. 2:
Craney:
Mason:
Mason:
Frogie: Craney:
Jump, aside, Frogie boy A narrow escape IeScap Move, move, stones rollin Mousie thambi, is that eno Some more please. Let's build the canal too. [Mending ofthe pondis done und Frogie, withoutjumpinga Just coming. Come one, Come all. Let
Pondo thatha gets up, stands facing mason, and between Pondo and mason, singing the following
Song:
One pot of water,
One flower blooms. Two pots of water,
Two flowers bloom. Three pots of water,
Three flowers bloom. Four pots of water,
Four flowers bloom. Five pots of water,
Five flowers bloom.
Six pots of water,
Six flowers bloom. Seven pots of water,
Seven flowers bloom. Eight pots of water,
Eight flowers bloom. Nine pots of water,
Nine flowers bloom. Ten pots of water,
Ten flowers bloom.
(At the end of the lastline, Pondo thatha and Maso
laugh).

uary 2001 50
lay all the soil that covered us.
l, not a single plant can grow onus now. e Stones too, that will be the end ofus.
n this child grows old, she'll planta lot of trees.
give you a lot of stones. to plant more trees. anta lot oftrees.
eS!
the stones
erhorns).
ed from being crushed by the stones. g down!
ugh?
er the charge of the mason. All animals mime working). bout in the pond come and help us.
's send the water to the meadow.
they dance. All the characters go dancing in a circle Song and they pour Wateron meadow).
in hold Frogie boy and all others cheer and applaud and

Page 53
Seventh issue of the THIRD EYE - Janua
Mousie: Goatieakka, Goatieakka, come he (Goatie runs to Meadow, bleating-t Goatie : Ill, Ill.......... m“, Mousie thambi, fet
I'll give enough milk for the child
Mousie: I'm coming Here's the bowl Goatie: Here you are! Take this milk to the c
Mousie: Thanksalot, Goatieakka! .
Mousie singing happily, takes the bowl of milk to th
Old Rock Mountain gave some sto
E - I - E - I - O Merry masan built the pond. Stout little Pondo gave some water, Grassy Meadow gave some grass. Graceful Goatie gave Some milk. Tiny Mousiefed the child.
Mousie is feeding the child. As the child is drinking, cheer and make merry.
Mousie: Come, children, let's planta lot oft Child: I too have a tree to plant
The child goes in front with aplant, followed by M. and beating the drums. The childhands over the plant to the front stage holding agreen cloth, and sing:
Water, Water, come in plenty.
Feed us with your bounty, Bless us with your glory.
Fill the rivers with water. Fill the land with laughter.
All cheer and applaud and bow to the audience
This issue of the Third Eye was sponsored by N SE:12, in memory of hislate father Dr. Ponniah:
The sponsorship was arranged through the aus Iyer.
The Editors of the “Third Eye” express their pro
The Editors also welcome sponsorship for their

y 2001 251
quickly. Feed on the grass! en mimes grazing)
h me a bowl quickly
hild
e crying child. Others sing the chorus).
CS.
Chorus Chorus Chorus Chorus Chorus Chorus Repeat
others make the sound"GULP, GULP'. Then they all
'ees!
ousie. Others follow behind, mime-playing the flute to Mountainmama, who plants it. Then they all come
THE END
Ir. S. Chanthrakumaran. 1 Helder Grove, London elvanayagam of Cheddikulam.
ices of Dr. K. Sugumar and Mr. S. Pathmanathan
ound gratitude to the sponsor for his generosity.
uture issues of the Third Eye.

Page 54
/ ཡོད།
Famine Relief
Explain, please, this wonder, this creaturous pleasure,
this ruby offeeling while I feed another being: tell me why
when Hasina opens her mouth, it's as though the world in its entirety
opens, the lotus of Buddha unfolding its jewel. Weil ofskin, drapedover
bone: Hasina's fourteen, so thin she can't walk, sit up,
hold a cup. Eyes a single bean scanning for food, even when
she's full. She's the II outh of the soul, open
around hunger, asking the way a baby, without guile,
is good with greediness to know the world. To feed another being
is like eating: both of us filling ourselves
with the certainty that there is, in us and around Lus,
kindness so infinite that we cannot be lonely. Hasina
Inight have been the one with the spoon, fleshy, of substantial body,
ン ܢܠ
N: , K. Il Pri

/ ཡོད༽
I the skeleton - but that too would be wrong. Under the pull of full sun
at noon, I hear the temple gong, summoning the faithful,
and in the lull of echo, the jangle of bells on the women's
ankles. Hasin a looks up, I lift the spoon, balancing the pans
of our scale: Ours is a life of satiety
and hunger, the haves and the have nots, these two conditions
spread through the universe so that we may know hunger,
so that we may learn to feed each other, not perfection
but the lesson, enacted over and over again: Hasina and I
by chance or quantum design, chosen to perform this hallowed, ancient
devotion – One tle Wenus of Willendorf, each of those many breasts,
Overflowing, the Other Kali in her starved aspect,
shrill around emptiness, and devouring devouring
/ر !Marlyn Krys ܢܠ
1t:rs - Baltit:litii:,