OH! WHAT AN EXPERIENCE
By Dr. Tilak S. Fernando
It
was an era when University postgraduate students in the country launched an organised social revolution against the State. Frustrated cluster groups started to agitate,
the rulers undermined the threats involved and paid little or no heed at all,
until the issue became cancerous, affecting the entire nation.
The main players of the revolutionary group systematically and
successfully managed to woo and recruit not only university undergraduates, but
also many young men and women into their fold by conducting special lectures in
concealed hideouts. It was a time when the organization was rapidly progressing
that Amila enrolled as a university student.
Amila came from a bourgeoisie family. His father Noel was a
government official, who held a senior executive position. Noel belonged to the
country’s ‘old University clan,’ who worshipped and embraced communism,
Marxism, Leninism, or Maoism as a fashion during their undergraduate days,
despite hailing from capitalist backgrounds at home.
Therefore, it was natural that Noel’s library at home contained
books on socialism and revolutions. Amila liked reading as a young child, and
his father’s library automatically helped him to get familiarized with Marxism
and Socialism.
Every weekend, Amila’s father entertained a regular visitor, an
old university chum, Chandra, for a chat over a drink. Such powwows not only
touched normal tittle-tattle, but also punctuated serious political subjects,
which they termed as intellectual political knowledge.
Preachers of the revolutionary group were excellent orators, who
could influence young minds easily. One day Chandra whispered in Amila’s ear
about the movement and their sole aim being to revolutionize the society. It
struck a chord with Amila. Seemingly, unknown to his parents, Amila too became
a sympathiser of the group and attended secret ‘orientation classes’ at various hideouts, which extended from members’ houses to far
away villages and jungles.
Like thousands of other youths who possessed anarchist elements
in their blood stream, Amila too became an active member of the Group, and within a short spell of time, he
was promoted as a regional lieutenant, in a similar status to that of Chandra.
The majority of the youth were brainwashed by the senior commanders and Amila
too fell prey to such notions and started influencing many of his friends and
university chums.
As the membership grew, revolutionist activities diversified
into many areas including daylight bank robberies to raise funds for the
organisation’s operation. The situation in the country became somewhat chaotic.
Though somewhat late, the State suddenly woke up from its slumber in realizing
the impending dangers ahead. Decisions were taken overnight to mobilise the
security forces, and the police to hunt, combat, and eradicate the youthful
rebels.
In somewhat of a complex scenario, the security forces hunted,
arrested, and ultimately went to the extent of exterminating thousands of youth
whom they suspected to be rebels. In a similar tit for tat fashion
revolutionary leaders hunted whom they considered to be their spies, informers,
and ‘social parasites’ and
started to eliminate them in a progressive manner.
The value of human life began to deplete to zero level. In such
a tragic state of affairs, decapitated bodies were seen floating on rivers,
severed heads of individuals hung on spikes with stains of blood splashed all
over, burning bodies wrapped to vehicle tyres alongside main roads in towns,
and villages stood as harsh reminders to the public, reminding them of an
unfortunate, frightful and a dark era in the country.
During nighttime abductions of young men and women by the Police
and the Army, right in front of their parents, became a habitual exercise.
White vans without number plates went into action in removing youth from their
houses and nobody could account for those responsible for such operations!
Parents with adolescent children had to find ways and means to conceal their
children to avoid their houses being raided and the children dragged out by
force for interrogation.
As the battle between the security forces and the revolutionists
became somewhat fierce, cracks began to appear on policy matters within the
revolutionary group. Overnight, a blood thirsty faction of the insurgent
group went hammer and tongs on a killing spree, particularly targeting the
innocent family members of the security forces and the police.
Amila could not stomach the volatile situation, especially the
decision taken by their armed group leader,
to kill people indiscriminately. Despondent Amila then wrote a letter to
the hierarchy, highlighting his displeasure of the latest decision of the
organisation. Within days he too became a victim of his own organisation and
was branded as a traitor.
Orders went out from the top to hunt for his head. Amila found
himself suddenly trapped between the devil and the deep blue sea. Now his
life rested on a knife’s edge situation, as on one side the police were after
him, and on the other, the armed gang of his own members was after his head!
When such news filtered through to Amila’s parents, it benumbed
them with horror and fear. Contingency plans had to be made immediately to
protect his life, which made him shift from place to place during day and
night, temporarily living at relatives’ houses and with friends, until his
father worked out a strategic plan.
Amila was fortunate in that aspect. Unlike many of his members
Amila’s parents had the right contacts and the funds to send him out of the
country. In double quick, time he was sent to London to mark time with his
uncle, who worked as a diplomat at the Sri Lankan High Commission.
In London, his uncle found him a university to continue with his
degree, yet he could not escape from coming into contact with several student
groups from home being members of the revolutionary group operating as splinter
groups and supporters of the revolution.
At the end of one semester in London, Amila decided to return to
Sri Lanka on a holiday to see his parents. The situation in the country had
been somewhat calmed down, but the agony was still not completely over. Despite
his parent’s advice, not to travel during the night, Amila wanted to make
maximum use of his holiday. He disregarded his father’s advice and visited his
old chums, sometimes till late hours keeping his parents on pins unnecessarily.
It was during one such night, during his holiday in Sri
Lanka, that an unknown figure in an Army Brigadier’s uniform, with three other
uniformed men stood upon the New Kelani Bridge to confront him. In the dark,
men in uniform pounced on Amila and dragged him to the middle of the bridge.
They twisted his hands behind his back and bound the wrists with
a tight chord. With another chord his two feet were tied together at ankle
level. A strong lengthy cord later went round his neck, making a noose which
would tighten automatically throttling him when thrown down from the bridge to
asphyxiate him instantly or break his neck from the downward thrust, once pushed
from the height of the bridge. While three men were doing this, a
senior officer in uniform stood straight with a pistol aimed at Amila’s
head.
No one else was in sight at this horrific scene. Amila’s eyes
were large with fright and had a pleading expression as one uniformed soldier
adjusted the knot of the noose, while the other two held him straight and the
Brigadier looked sharp into his eyes, without any compassion or guilt but,
aiming his revolver directly at Amila’s head, giving the impression that within
seconds he was going to blow Amila’s brains out!
Amila started to shiver with fear. As he closed his eyes to fix
his last thought on his mother, he could visualise his mother’s face with
anguish written all over.
While such disturbing thoughts flashed through Amila’s
mind, the three soldiers stepped aside, saluted the Brigadier, and positioned
themselves behind him. The Officer took a few steps forward and kicked Amila
from behind.
The sudden thrust of the officer’s heavy boots, like the stroke
of a blacksmith’s hammer, threw the youth like a rocket into the water. The
Brigadier would not have liked to do such an inhumane act, but at that
hour it turned out to be his duty, and he was simply obeying orders from the
top.
As Amila fell downward from the bridge, the thrust on his neck
and the shock concussed him for a while, and he became as one already dead. As
his body hit the water in the river, he regained consciousness and felt the
pain of a sharp pressure coming upon his throat, followed by a sense of
suffocation. It seemed like streams of pulsating fire heating him to an
intolerable temperature.
There was no additional strangulation, but the noose around his
neck was suffocating him while he kept the water away from his lungs. To die at
the bottom of a river seemed ludicrous to him. He opened his eyes in the
darkness and saw above him a gleam of light, at distance, and inaccessible! He
was still sinking, and a far away light became fainter and fainter until it
became a mere glimmer, then it began to glow and brighten again.
He felt he was rising towards the surface. 'To be hanged and
drowned is not so bad, but I do not wish to be shot at, no, I will not be shot
at, and it is not fair’, thoughts came to his mind.
A sharp pain in his wrist indicated that he was trying to free
his hands. He struggled with super human effort, and the rope came undone - his
hands were free. It was a splendid, magnificent, and superhuman strength! That
was his final endeavour and the rope fell away, freeing his arms and he floated
upwards. Then he used one hand to loosen the noose on his neck. His neck ached
horribly, his brain was on fire, and the heart was fluttering faintly. His
whole body was ruined. He beat the water with his hands vigorously and forced
him to the surface.
He felt his head emerge and lungs engulfed a great draught of
air. He was now in possession of his physical senses and felt the ripples of
water upon his face. He looked at the trees and leaves on the riverbank. He had
come to the surface and in a moment the visible world seemed to wheel round
slowly. He saw the bridge, soldiers upon the bridge, the Brigadier - his
executioner. They were silhouetted against the sky. They shouted and
gesticulated, pointing at him. The Brigadier drew his pistol but he did not
fire.
Suddenly he heard something striking the water, a few inches
away from his head. Next he saw one of the uniformed soldiers with his rifle at
his shoulder and the smoke rising from the muzzle.
Amila changed his direction. He was looking for a way to get to
the riverbank. As he rose to the surface gasping for breath, he realized that
he had been under water for a long time. The soldiers had finished reloading
their guns and the metal ramrods flashed all at once, as
they drew from the barrels. Amila saw all this over his shoulders; now he was
trying to swim vigorously with the current.
There was an appalling splash within two yards of him followed
by a thundering sound, which seemed to travel back through the air and died in
an explosion, which seemed to stir the very river to its depths! A gush of
water in the form of a giant wave fell down upon him, blinded him, and
strangled him.
Suddenly he felt himself whirled round and round and spinning,
which made him giddy. The water, the banks, the bridge, the soldiers, and the
Brigadier all were mingled and blurred. Objects represented only by their
colours – that was all he could see. The sudden arrest of his motion, the
abrasion of one of his hands on the gravel restored him and he dug his fingers
into the soil. He sprang to his feet, and rushed up towards Peliyagoda
road. He was fatigued and famished.
His neck was in pain and felt horribly swollen. His eyes were
congested and he could no longer close them. His tongue was swollen with thirst.
He was weak and could no longer feel the road surface beneath his feet.
Suddenly he became dizzy and collapsed on the tarred road.
He could soon visualise himself standing at the gate of his own
home. As he pushed open the gate and walked up to the front door, he saw his
mother smiling and stepping out of the verandah to greet him with a hug and a
smile of ineffable joy. He sprang forward with extended arms. As he was about
to clasp her, a blinding white light blazed all about him like a powerful lightning
– everything became dark and silent for a moment. Then he could see himself
dead and his body, with a broken neck, swinging gently from side to side
beneath the iron bars of the Kelani Bridge.
Amila jumped out of his bed with a loud scream. A worried mother
rushed into Amila’s room to see what had gone wrong with her son, only to
realise that Amila had recovered from a horrific nightmare – perhaps a
recollection of inhibited psychosis or fear stored up in his subconscious mind
during his past experience with the insurgency group. But he realized it also
had acted as a warning bell for him to be careful until he got back to London
safely to complete his university degree.
“A man's greatest battles are the ones he fights within
himself.” - Ben Okri (195
2013 - Sri Express