Features

MY FATHER

Published

1 year ago

2024/04/28

by LC Arulpragasam

(This is another excerpt from the book Falling Leaves, a part autobiographical anthology of articles by one of the last remaining members of the old Ceylon Civil Service, now living in Manila at age of over 95-years. A painting my the author adorns the book cover.)

My father was Dr. Albert Rajaratnam Arulpragasam. To my regret, I do not know much about him, because he kept to himself. He was born on June 12, 1890. He died in 1957 in Jaffna. By profession, he was a medical doctor working for the government of Ceylon, retiring at the age of 60 years. After a few years in Colombo, my parents retired to their home in Chundikuli (Jaffna) – a home he inherited from his sister. I (we) do not know much about my father, mainly because he was a very private, reticent and self-effacing man, who seemed reluctant to talk about his childhood or about his past. We, his children, must also be blamed for our lack of curiosity in regard to the man who quietly and uncomplainingly provided the means for us to go to the best schools and University in Ceylon and to embark on successful careers.

This lack of knowledge also arose partly because we were all the time in boardings and schools in Colombo, whereas my father was always stationed in the provinces, so that we never got to really know him. My sister, on the other hand, who spent a longer time at home, was able to dig out more stories from our reticent father. Hence, what I record below is information that I gleaned from my mother, who despite a lifetime lived with him did not know details of his past; and from my sister, who was close to him.

My father’s mother died giving birth to his sister (or soon after), when my father was just two or three years old. He and his baby sister were then sent off to their maternal grandfather’s home. My Dad’s father was a Postmaster by profession: he probably could not have undertaken to care for two baby children. He never remarried. As for my father, growing up in his grandparents’ home seems to have left an indelible imprint on his life and values. It also left a deep affection and loyalty to ‘look after’ his baby sister throughout her life. It may be that he had an unhappy childhood in this stern and austere home, which may be the reason for his reluctance to talk about his childhood: we shall never know.

His maternal grandfather with whom he grew up was the Reverend Seth Christmas, an Anglican clergyman. He was so named because he was born on Christmas day, given the name ‘Christmas’, and living up to his name, died on Christmas day! Growing up in the austere Reverend’s home seems to have instilled in my father certain ‘Christian’ values, as taught by the missionaries at that time.

Apart from the usual Christian commandments, they branded smoking and drinking alcohol as ‘sins’. When my father was told that my elder brother (who was already a medical doctor by then) was smoking, he confidently declared: ‘None of my children will ever drink or smoke!’ This hope and certitude was unfortunately betrayed by all three of his sons, who all smoked and drank!

This treatment of drinking as a sin is also illustrated by another story. At the usual ‘rag’ on initiation when entering Medical College, the seniors made the freshmen suffer all sorts of indignities. One of them was to drink half a bottle of arrack in one go. My father, true to his ‘Christian’ principles, refused to touch liquor. Try as they may, he refused to drink. Ultimately in disgust, they banged the bottle of arrack on his head and poured the contents over his head! Undoubtedly, silent obstinacy was one of his traits!

My father had his early education at St. John’s College, Jaffna. He thereafter finished his high-school education at Royal College, Colombo, which was the best school in those days. Fortunately for us, he insisted that all his sons attend Royal College too. He thereafter entered Medical College, and after obtaining his medical degree, joined government service as a doctor. My mother, going through his few personal things after his death, found the Gold Medal for Surgery, which he had won in Medical College. He seems to have won this over Sir Nicholas Attygalle (his batch-mate) who later became one of the the most recognized surgeons in Sri Lanka. This characterizes my father’s modesty, since neither his wife nor his children knew of this achievement before.

My father was not an impressive man, either in physical appearance (he was never smartly dressed) or in career achievement; nor was he worldly-wise. He was undoubtedly very intelligent – as seen by his achievements in medical college. This intelligence ran in his mother’s family: but so also did a strain of depression. For instance, his mother’s brother, S.K Rutnam (the husband of Dr. Mary H. Rutnam), despite obtaining an M.A. degree from Princeton University (USA) as early as 1915, ended his life in depression. Depression also seems to have run in other lines of the family, originating from my father’s mother’s side of the family.

I can list only some of the posts my father held as a government doctor – due to my lack of knowledge. As a bachelor, he seems to have served in different posts around Kurunegala in the North-Western Province. I know that he served as a doctor in the Jaffna hospital in 1927, since I was born during his stint there. He seems thereafter to have switched to the field of public health, after which he was posted as the junior doctor in Mandapam Camp, where I spent the first five years of my life.

He was then selected for a government scholarship to England for post-graduate studies in public health. On his return to Ceylon, he served as Medical Officer of Health in the Batticaloa District (during World War II) for five years. Thereafter, he was appointed as Port Health Officer in charge of all health measures in the port of Colombo, which was the busiest port in Asia at that time. When he was passed over for appointment as Director of Health Services in charge of the whole Department of Health, he opted for a transfer as Medical Superintendent of Mandapam Camp where he would be his own boss. This was a quarantine station located in South India in the charge of Ceylon government doctors, whose aim was to prevent infectious diseases such as smallpox and cholera being brought to Ceylon from India, mainly by plantation workers destined for the tea estates of Ceylon. He served in charge of Mandapam Camp for eight-10 years, until his retirement.

In the latter capacity, he was in charge of about 7,000 people covering about 700 acres of land. We lived in a posh house with all the modern amenities, a garden of more than two acres of land, two full-time gardeners and a swimming pool. He was also the boss of about 50 uniformed security guards (needed to keep the detainees under enforced quarantine), dressed in Indian military-style khaki uniforms, replete with puttees and turbans. These guards would salute him whenever he passed, even if on the other side of the road, springing to attention and saluting him in mid-flight. To which my father, a modest and self-effacing man, would respond with an embarrassed, downcast eyes-salute!

He was socially awkward in company – which was more than compensated for by my mother, who thrived on conversation. He was not really into sports, although he played soccer in his youth and played a passable game of tennis in his ‘forties. In Mandapam Camp in his fifties, having walked about two miles in the sun to the railway station (to pass the passengers in the Ceylon-bound train), he would come back home and recline in his easy chair, saying that he was ‘fagged’ (tired).

I have some funny stories to relate about his life as a young government doctor. When posted in a wild part of the country in British colonial times, patients would come to his clinics from remote villages. Once, looking down at his records, he called for the next patient – and a cow walked in! When posted in another remote town, he was assigned a government bungalow adjoining thick jungle. My father loved to have chickens pecking around his yard and enjoyed feeding them; whereafter, the chickens would spend the rest of the day foraging in the jungle.

One day, my father’s big boss from Colombo was coming on ‘inspection’. My father invited him to lunch, hoping to give him chicken curry. But when he went to look for his chickens, they were all away, foraging in the jungle. In desperation, he got out his shotgun and went into the jungle to hunt his own chickens!

When I grew up, I was amazed at the number of relatives whom my father had been financially supporting. He seems to have undertaken the responsibility of helping his mother’s sisters and their children. This was despite not having really known his mother, who must have died when he was barely two years old. He seems to have financed a nephew through medical school, while providing monthly financial aid to his two maternal aunts and their children. My mother did not object, because she knew that he considered this to be his duty: she also knew that although quiet, he was still a very stubborn man!

My father seems to have valued financial security more than making more money. He neither saved nor invested – even in a home. He seems to have spent his entire salary in supporting his children and his mother’s sisters and their families. My mother relates this example of his not caring for money. The government in those days accepted that while government doctors should work in the hospital during office-hours, they could thereafter see patients privately at home for a fee.

My father would not charge a fee even when patients were seeking to see him privately. My mother reported cases where he was called urgently to poor patients’ homes but still would not take a fee, despite bearing the cost of transport himself. Other doctors in the area were naturally upset, since all the patients were flocking to my father. He saw it as his duty as a doctor to treat all patients who came to him. The other doctors came to him to object, arguing that he should charge a fee – because he was offering unfair competition!

To overcome this dilemma, my father started working in the hospital till night, so that patients could see him free of charge. Finally to avoid this predicament altogether, he moved into the field of public health, where the Government provided an extra allowance in lieu of private practice. Instead of becoming a surgeon, he chose to move into a less-paying field, which paid enough for his needs -which included looking after his mother’s sisters and their families! He was not ambitious for himself: he was merely putting personal duty, as he saw it, before self.

I too had experience of his ‘money is not important’ thinking. I had by this time got into the Ceylon Civil Service. At the age of 27 years (in 1954), I was approached to be interviewed for the post of Marketing Manager at Unilevers (Lever Bros). I was selected for the post (as a trainee) and offered a salary (as a trainee) more than six times of that which I was earning in the Ceylon Civil Service.

Since I was undecided, I wrote to my father for advice. I did not expect the thundering reply that I received from my usually quiet and indulgent father: “I did not think that any of my sons would stoop to filthy lucre like this!” I was stung to the quick by this response, because I too had been brought up in his way of thinking! So I shamefacedly turned down the post – though I had other reasons too.

I remember that my father never touched me, either in love or in anger, beyond my age eight years. I cannot remember him ever cuddling or hugging me, although I heard that he did this when I was little. He always maintained a distance when we were older, seeming shy of his own children! On the other hand, he never raised his hand against me, nor ever beat or scold me or my siblings. Nor did he ever ask me to study, nor make any attempt to supervise or check on my studies – though I know that he was very interested in my school results, which were undoubtedly conveyed to him by my mother.

It is only when I reached maturity that I realized that he ‘ruled’ us not only by example, but also by expectation. I don’t think that he was subtle and devious enough to realize this: but he achieved this result without even trying! He lived by very high standards of duty and integrity: he merely expected us to do the same. These expectations filtered down to us not directly from him, but from various uncles and aunts, bringing a feeling of guilt if we did not live up to his high standards and expectations. He was not an impressive man either by outward appearance or career achievement, but as I grew older, I grew to respect him more and more for the highly principled man that he was.

He was a remote and uncommunicative father, whom we often reached only through my mother. This is with the exception of my sister who was more familiar with him because she grew up mostly at home. He was, however, very considerate and indulgent towards his children. Each time that I was leaving for school after the holidays at home, he would sidle up to me and without looking me in the eye (he was embarrassed), would shyly slip a wad of pocket money into my hand, saying stiffly “pocket money” and hurry away.

When I looked at the money, it was always too much. When I ran behind him to protest, he would hasten away in embarrassment. I had to go to my mother to ‘complain’ that it was too much, and give her ‘the excess’ to return to my Dad. I found out later that my elder brother too had habitually been doing the same.

I have to relate another episode that shows his indulgence towards his children. Once when I was at home on holiday (I must have been about 16 years old at that time – and a confirmed athlete and rugby player), I came to the verandah where he was reclining on his ‘easy chair’ to chat with him. I found him struggling to get out of his ‘easy chair’ in order to offer it to me, although there were many other chairs around! I had to entreat him repeatedly to please sit down in his own chair, in his own house!

I conclude with the following personal story, as a tribute to my father. After my degree, I undertook a survey of the Veddas, involving a walk of 250 miles through jungles and drinking dirty water. I consequently developed severe dysentery – and hardly managed to walk the 100 miles through jungles to get back to my starting point. When I finally returned to my starting point, I found that the person with whom I had left all my money (since I had no use for money in the jungle) had gambled it all away!

I was thus left with absolutely no money at all and unable to return to Colombo for urgent hospitalization. Sick, weak, desperate and almost collapsing, I spent the last 15 cents I had on bus fare to reach a place closer to Colombo. (I was foolishly trying to go towards Colombo – although I knew that I could not reach it!) In that God-forsaken place I came across a government dispensary at the edge of the jungle (near Padiyatalawa).

Meanwhile, night had fallen – and the dispensary was closed. I was desperate now, with no money even to feed myself. When I shouted for urgent medical help, a window opened and a double-barrel gun poked out, since this was a jungle outpost where bandits were at large. I shouted explanations in English, in order to sound ‘educated’. (I looked a bandit myself, clad in my khaki kit, which I had worn for months in a row, my slouch khaki hat and a four month beard).

Afraid and annoyed, the Apothecary shouted roughly, asking my name and what I wanted. When I gave my name (‘Arulpragasam’ was a very uncommon name at that time), he asked whether I was, by any chance, a relative of Dr. Arulpragasam. When I said that I was his son, his attitude changed completely. He said: “Come in, my son” – although he was a Sinhalese gentleman, and I was not his son.

He went on to say: “Your father was the best boss that I have ever worked for, and the most decent gentleman that I have ever known”. He gave me some food, and after treating me for dysentery, he even lent me money for a third class railway ticket (which was all he could afford) back to Colombo. Whenever I think of this episode, tears come to my eyes: for I remember that it was the name of my father that saved me on this most desperate day of my life!

My father died of a brain aneurism in Jaffna at the age of 67 years. He passed away before any of his sons could reach him, although my sister was able to do so. My father’s remains are buried in the graveyard at St. John’s Church, where he had worshipped as a boy. When the ‘Eelam war’ was over, I had the grave rebuilt and a new headstone installed. When I look at these photos now, it is with sadness: sadness because we did not show the love and respect for him that he had for us. He taught us, at least posthumously, what true love, integrity and duty really meant.

P.S. My father had endowed a prize at St. John’s College, Jaffna, for English Oratory. This was in honour of his father, Mr. Cornelius Arulpragasam. Jega (my brother) and I have augmented this endowment, renaming the prize as “The Cornelius and Dr. Arulpragasam Prize for English Oratory”. This prize serves to remind me of my father – and of my origins.

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UN’s challenge of selective accountability without international equity

Published

23 hours ago

2025/06/17

Sahan Weerasooriya

Volker Türk

The visit of UN High Commissioner for Human Rights, Volker Türk, later this month may possibly be overshadowed by the eruption of hostilities in the Middle East following Israel’s attack on Iran. The High Commissioner’s visit to Sri Lanka relates to the series of resolutions passed by the UN Human Rights Council over the past sixteen years since the end of the war. It will highlight the contradiction in the rules-based international order when geopolitical interests override legal commitments. These resolutions highlight the importance of protecting human rights during times of conflict and ensuring accountability for war crimes. They are part of the enduring legacy of international human rights and humanitarian law, as exemplified by the Geneva Conventions and the global post-war consensus that atrocity crimes should not go unpunished.

The High Commissioner’s visit is likely to provoke criticism that the United Nations is pursuing Sri Lanka’s adherence to international norms with greater zeal than it shows toward violations by more powerful countries. There appears to be acquiescence, indeed even tacit approval, by influential states in response to Israel’s military actions in both Iran and Gaza on the grounds of existential threats to Israel. Similar military actions were taken in 2003 by the US and the UK governments, among other international powers, to destroy weapons of mass destruction alleged to be in Iraq. One of the central arguments made by critics of the UN’s engagement in Sri Lanka is that double standards are at play. These critics contend that the United Nations disproportionately targets weaker countries, thereby reinforcing an international system that turns a blind eye to powerful countries and, in doing so, undermines the credibility and coherence of global human rights standards.

The arrival of the High Commissioner is also likely to reignite internal debate in Sri Lanka about the purpose and legitimacy of UN involvement in the country. The question is whether international standards effectively contribute to national transformation, or do they risk being reduced to symbolic gestures that satisfy external scrutiny without generating substantive change. There will be those who regard international engagement as a necessary corrective to domestic failings, and others who see it as an infringement on national sovereignty. The question of accountability for war crimes committed during the three-decade-long civil war remains a deeply divisive and sensitive issue. Sri Lanka, with its own complex and painful history, has the opportunity to lead by example by reckoning with the past unlike many other countries who justify their atrocities under the veil of national security.

International Breakdown

The modern international system emerged in the wake of two catastrophic world wars and the recognised failure of early twentieth-century diplomacy to prevent mass violence. At its core was a collective pledge to establish a rules-based international order that could maintain peace through law, institutional cooperation, and multilateral governance. The development of international human rights and humanitarian law was most pronounced in the aftermath of the mass atrocities and immense human suffering of World War II. The powerful nations of the time resolved to lead a new global order in which such horrors would never be repeated.

This vision of a rules-based international order as a safeguard against a return to the law of the jungle, where power alone determined justice was institutionalised through the United Nations, the Geneva Conventions, and the establishment of international courts such as the International Court of Justice and the International Criminal Court. However, this international system has come under increasing strain in recent decades. Recent events show that it no longer functions as originally envisioned. In practice, the consistent application of international law, regardless of the status or power of a state, is frequently compromised. The selective enforcement of legal norms, particularly by powerful countries, has eroded the legitimacy of the system and calls into question the universalism at the heart of international law.

At present, at least three major international conflicts taking place in Ukraine, Gaza, and now the confrontation between Israel and Iran, illustrate a sustained breakdown in the enforcement of international legal norms. These conflicts involve powerful states that openly defy legal obligations, with the international community, especially its more influential members, often remaining conspicuously silent. Only a handful of countries, such as South Africa, have chosen to raise issues of international law violations in these conflicts. The broader silence or selective rationalisation by powerful countries has only reinforced the perception that international law is subject to political convenience, and that its authority can be subordinated to geopolitical calculation. Earlier examples would include the ruination of prosperous countries such as Iraq, Libya and Syria.

Uphold Consistency

The Sri Lankan situation illustrates the importance of preserving an international legal system with mechanisms for credible and impartial accountability. Sri Lanka, so far, has been unable to address the issues of accountability for serious war-time human rights violations through internal mechanisms. However, the broader lesson from Sri Lanka’s experience is that international norms ought not to be applied selectively. If global institutions aspire to uphold justice by holding smaller or less powerful countries accountable, they must apply the same standards to powerful states, including Israel, Russia, and the United States. Failing to do so risks creating the perception that the international legal system is an instrument of coercion and selective punishment rather than a foundation for equitable global justice.

Despite the prevalence of double standards in international practice, it remains in Sri Lanka’s national interest to support the principles and implementation of international law. The existence of international law, however weak, offers some level of protection that smaller countries have when faced with the predatory behaviour of more powerful states. For this reason, the Sri Lankan government must do all it can to uphold its prior commitments to the UN Human Rights Council and implement the promises it has made to the fullest extent possible. In multilateral forums, including the UN, Sri Lanka must reassert these commitments as strategic assets that help to defend its sovereignty and legitimacy. At the same time, Sri Lanka needs to take up the challenge of using these international platforms to highlight the problem of selective enforcement. Sri Lanka can contribute to the broader call for a more principled and consistent application of international law by demonstrating its seriousness in protecting vulnerable populations and position itself as a responsible and principled actor in the international community.

Engaging with the past in accordance with international standards is also essential for Sri Lanka’s internal reconciliation and social cohesion. The principles of transitional justice—truth, accountability, reparations, and institutional reform—are not only universally applicable but also critical to the long-term development of any post-conflict society. These principles apply across all contexts and periods. If Sri Lanka is to evolve into a united, stable, and prosperous country, it must undertake this process, regardless of what other countries do or fail to do. Only by acknowledging and addressing its own past can Sri Lanka build a future in which its multi-ethnic and multi-religious character becomes a source of strength rather than weakness.

by Jehan Perera

Features

A model for reconciliation

Published

23 hours ago

2025/06/17

Sahan Weerasooriya

Volker Türk

Conciliation between parties to a conflict involves two basic processes. The common factor to both is identifying the perpetrators associated with the conflict and holding them accountable for their actions, because of the belief that atonement for the violations committed help the aggrieved survivors to ease their pain without which reconciliation is not possible. One process involves Voluntary Admission of the TRUTH to the point of admitting guilt on the part of the perpetrators for the violations committed and Forgiveness on the part of the victims. Another process is to establish the TRUTH through mechanisms set up to investigate the scope and extent of the violations committed and identification of the perpetrators responsible, so that they could be punished to the extent of the law, thus assuaging the pain of the aggrieved. This is Retributive Justice.

The features common to both processes are that violations committed are in the PAST, which, in the case of Sri Lanka span, over a period of 16 to 30 years. Under such circumstances, ONLY Voluntary Admission would identify the perpetrators, while in the case of Retributive Justice, the credibility of the investigations to establish the TRUTH, based on which perpetrators are identified, would vary from questionable to inadmissible after the lapse of 16 to 30 years.

The first process cited above, namely Voluntary Admission followed by Forgiveness, was adopted by the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of South Africa. This attempt failed to meet expectations because one of the parties, who was to participate and make Reconciliation meaningful, refused to participate in the exercise. Furthermore, others see such processes as too idealistic because outcomes of the Reconciliation process require the full participation and genuine commitment of the parties to the conflict. Consequently, most countries opt for the second process, which is Reconciliation through Retributive Justice despite the fact that it is dependent on the credibility of the evidence gathered over decades and, therefore, has the potential to be flawed.

ALTERNATIVE APPROACHES

TO RECONCILIATION

If admission of Guilt and Forgiveness is realistically not an option, or the limitations of mechanisms to establish credible evidence is also not a dependable option, the only alternative most countries adopt is for time to heal the grievances between parties to the conflict in a manner that best suits their respective social and civilisational values Since such an alternative leaves grievances that initiated the conflict to resolve itself on its own accord, the inevitable outcome is for societies to stay divided and frustrated thus making them fertile grounds for conflicts to recur.

The primary reason for the failure of the options hitherto pursued is that it limits the process of Reconciliation ONLY to violations associated with the Conflict. It does not factor in the grievances that initiated the conflict. This aspect is completely overlooked in the processes that involve admission of guilt followed by forgiveness or in Retributive Justice. Consequently, accountability based on Retributive Justice, advocated by the UNHRC and recommended by some in Sri Lanka, remains far from what is needed for meaningful Reconciliation.

It is, therefore, imperative that Sri Lanka presents a viable alternative that is NOT rooted in PAST actions but in the PRESENT because it is in the PRESENT that the livelihoods of those affected by the conflict have to be restored and their sense of hopelessness healed. Furthermore, Reconciliation, based on the PRESENT is recognized as the principal pillar in meditation as being the most rewarding to contribute to overall human wellbeing.

THE ALTERNATIVE

The approaches pursued by Sri Lanka were to appoint Presidential Commissions of Inquiry, Presidential Truth and Reconciliation Commissions, Task Forces to investigate and gather evidence with Foreign participation and the ongoing Evidence Gathering Mechanisms of the UNHRC, to name a few. In the midst of these attempts, Sri Lanka also set up the “Office for Reparations” (OR) under Act, No. 34 of 2018 and the Office on Missing Persons (OMP).

The stated Objective of OR was the recognition given by the Act to “a comprehensive reparations scheme anchored in the rights of all Sri Lankans to an effective remedy will contribute to the promotion of reconciliation for the wellbeing and security of all Lankans, including future generations”. Whether these Offices were set up with the conscious intention of focusing on the PRESENT while continuing to engage with Retributive Justice mechanisms that focus on the PAST, is not known.

The title of the 2018 Act states:

“AN ACT TO PROVIDE FOR THE ESTABLISHMENT OF THE OFFICE FOR

REPARATIONS; TO IDENTIFY AGGRIEVED PERSONS ELIGIBLE FOR

REPARATIONS, AND TO PROVIDE FOR THE PROVISION OF INDIVIDUAL

AND COLLECTIVE REPARATIONS TO SUCH PERSONS…”;

Its Vision is: “To create Reconciliation among Nationalities and ensure Human Rights through Economic and Social Prosperity”.

Its Objectives are:

1. To formulate and recommend to the Cabinet of Ministers, policies on reparations to grant individual and collective reparations to aggrieved persons.

2. To facilitate and implement such policies on reparations as approved by the Cabinet of Ministers, by the office for Reparations, including specialised policies on public education, memorialisation and on children, youths, women and victims of sexual violence and persons with disabilities.

3. To establish links to ensure the compatibility of the office for reparations with other mechanisms aimed at reconciliation.

4. To monitor and evaluate the progress of delivery of reparations to eligible aggrieved persons

GRANTS TO FAMILIES OF MISSING PERSONS

“The (OR) makes monetary grants to victims of conflict as a form of reparations. The focus of the OR is to assist aggrieved persons (victims) in ways that will provide meaningful assistance that is sustainable. Hence, the grant is not intended to serve as compensation but is given as a form of monetary relief. Families of missing persons are included in Livelihood development programmes, with particular focus on women who are heads of households”.

“Families of missing persons are among those to whom monetary grants are made by the OR on receipt of confirmation from the Office on Missing Persons (OMP) that the person is in fact missing. In terms of section 11(a) of the OR Act No. 34 of 2018, the OR is empowered to “receive recommendations with regard to reparations to be made to aggrieved persons, from the Office on Missing Persons.”

“Since the year 2022, the OR has received recommendations from the OMP to make payments to claimants in respect of a family member who they confirm are missing, after the conduct of an inquiry by the OMP into complaints made to the OMP by the family member (a claimant). The sum granted is Rs. 200,000/= per missing person, and is the same as the sum granted to applicants who make direct requests to the OR for monetary relief on the basis of the death of a family member”.

The three-step procedure followed by the OR on receiving the recommendation from the OMP is as follows-

STEP 1- OBTAINING INFORMATION FROM FAMILY:

“The letter received from the OMP confirms that the person named therein is reported missing, based on documents produced to the OMP, and recommends that a payment be made to the complainant named therein.

The information in the letter is sometimes inadequate to affirm the identity of the missing person and ascertain whether any previous grants have already been made to the family of that person on a direct application made to the OR. Hence the OR proceeds to obtain necessary information from the OMP and/or the complainant regarding – (1) the identity of the claimant and the missing person (Name, address, NIC number if available), to check from the OR information system whether a payment has been made previously and (2) the Bank Account to which the grant money should be remitted.

Where appropriate, the OR requests an affidavit from the claimant to state that no member of the family has previously received any payment on account of the death of that family member. A template of the Affidavit is provided by the OR”.

STEP 2 –

Processing the claim on receiving information.

STEP 3 –

Remittance of grant money to claimant.

CONCLUSION

With the conclusion of the Armed Conflict in Sri Lanka in May 2009, the approach to Reconciliation recommended Internationally, by the UNHRC, and by some Sri Lankans, was to address accountability for violations committed during and after the conflict through mechanisms of Retributive Justice that involve investigations, evidence gathering followed by prosecution. Over the years, Sri Lanka has laboured under these pressures without any meaningful outcomes as far as Reconciliation is concerned. This has been the experience with other countries as well.

The primary reason for this being the inability to gather credible evidence associated with violations committed over the PAST 16 to 30 years for Reconciliation to be meaningful. Furthermore, since the process is time consuming, the impression created is that no Government is serious about Reconciliation. This has left the survivors of all communities frustrated and disappointed in respect of their emotional and physical aspects of living in the PRESENT.

In the meantime, Sri Lanka set up the Office for Reparations (OR) and Office on Missing Persons (OMP) in 2018. Over the last seven years, these Offices have been working in the shadows, focusing on the physical needs and priorities of the survivors with a focus on the PRESENT and not on the PAST. This enables visible and tangible benefits to the survivors which is far more meaningful to their daily physical living with feedbacks to their emotional wellbeing, as well, than attempting to uncover the TRUTH of what took place decades ago. However, the need to expand the mandate of the OR to cover the development of Policies that address the causes that initiated the conflict is imperative.

Hence, the present Government should make the expanded Objectives of the OR the theme of their model for Reconciliation because the relevance of the PRESENT has its roots in meditation that promotes living in the PRESENT as being the most rewarding for human wellbeing. This model should first be discussed with a representative group of communities in Sri Lanka followed by first presenting it to the UN High Commissioner for Human Rights Volker Türk, during his visit to Sri Lanka, and then to the UN Human Rights Council in Geneva as a Resolution for acceptance.

by Neville Ladduwahetty

Features

Unique mashup cover…

Published

23 hours ago

2025/06/17

Sahan Weerasooriya

Mayuka Aparnatha may not be seen and heard in all parts of the country, performing live on stage, but he is certainly a star on social media, and has done modelling, as well – both ramp and photographic.

His preference, at the moment, he says, is to work on cover songs, adding that he does his covers with a touch of his own.

His latest song is titled ‘Asai Mannam’ and it has just been released. It is his fourth cover and also marks his first-ever mashup.

According to Mayuka, ‘Asai Mannam’ is a unique Sinhalese interpretation of the South Indian hit ‘Asa Kooda’ by Sai Abhyankkar and Sai Smriti.

“I consider this cover special because it’s a mashup with the song ‘Ma Diha’ by Dilu Beats. To my knowledge, this is the first-ever Sinhala cover of ‘Asa Kooda.’”

Mayuka’s musical journey began when he was very young.

Mayuka in action in the ‘Asai Mannam’ video

“Coming from a musical family, where my grandparents were involved in stage and drama, I naturally gravitated toward singing. I took part in inter-school competitions, as a child, and was fortunate to win a few. It has always been my dream to become a singer.”

Mayuka says he received formal training at KK Music, adding that he began making his music by starting with cover songs on YouTube.

Prior to ‘Asai Mannam,’ he has released three other covers, which are also available on his YouTube channel – MAYUKA.

Of course, one would say that the turning point in his musical career was when he participated in The Voice Sri Lanka, aired on Sirasa TV, and competed under Coach Raini’s team. He progressed until the battle rounds.

“Being a part of that show was a dream come true and something I can proudly tick off my bucket list.”

Mayuka went on to say that creating this official cover and music video of ‘Asai Mannam’ has been a rewarding experience.

“Music has always helped me through emotional and mental challenges, and I sincerely hope my songs can do the same for others, whether by healing, comforting, or simply bringing joy.”

Says Mayuka: “I’m deeply grateful to everyone who has supported me so far. I hope those who resonate with my style will continue to listen, and I look forward to sharing more music with you in the future.

“I’m also incredibly grateful to be featured in The Island newspaper. Thank you so much for the support.”