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கண்ணீருக்கு மத்தியில் பொதுச்சுடர் ஏற்றப்பட்டது

கண்ணீருக்கு மத்தியில் பொதுச்சுடர் ஏற்றப்பட்டது #Mullivaikkal #may18 #ut #utnews #tamilnews #universaltamil #lka

தமிழினத்தின் வலிகளை சுமந்துள்ள முள்ளிவாய்க்கால் நினைவேந்தல் திடலில் பொதுச் சுடர் ஏற்றப்பட்டுள்ளது.

முள்ளிவாய்க்கால் நினைவேந்தலின் பிரதான நிகழ்வில், இறுதி யுத்தத்தில் பாதிக்கப்பட்ட பல்கலைக்கழக மாணவி பொதுச் சுடர் ஏற்றிவைத்து நினைவேந்தல் நிகழ்வை ஆரம்பித்து வைத்துள்ளார்.

நினைவேந்தல் நிகழ்வில், வட மாகாண முதலமைச்சர் சி.வி.விக்னேஸ்வரன், நாடாளுமன்ற உறுப்பினர்கள், மாகாண சபை உறுப்பினர்கள், பொதுமக்கள் என…

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#May !8 #Mullivaikkal #பொதுச்சுடர்#முள்ளிவாய்க்கால்

Tamils honor war dead at former battleground

Sri Lanka’s ethnic Tamil political activists offer flowers at a makeshift monument in Mullivaikkal where thousands of people were killed in fierce fighting between the army and Tamil Tiger rebels, on Monday.

Sri Lanka’s ethnic Tamil politicians and a few civilians gathered Monday at a ceremony to honor thousands of dead on the battleground of the final days of the decades-long civil war that…

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#MULLIVAIKKAL #Sri Lanka #TAMIL IN SRI LANKA

சர்வதேச விசாரணை கோரி நீடித்த மாணவர்களின் உண்ணாவிரதம் முடிவுக்கு வந்தது

தஞ்சை முள்ளிவாய்க்கால் முற்றத்தில் 5வது நாளாக நீடித்த கல்லூரி மாணவர்களின் காலவரையற்ற உண்ணாவிரத போராட்டத்தை உலகத்தமிழர் பேரமைப்பு தலைவர் பழ.நெடுமாறன் நேற்று பழச்சாறு கொடுத்து முடித்து வைத்தார்.

இலங்கையில் தமிழர்களை கொன்று குவித்த இலங்கை அரசு மீது பன்னாட்டு புலன் விசாரணை நடத்த வேண்டும். உலகமெல்லாம் வாழும் ஈழத்தமிழர்களிடம் தனி தமிழ் ஈழம் குறித்து பொது வாக்கெடுப்பு நடத்த வேண்டும் என்று தமிழக…

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#Mullivaikkal #Thanjai #Thanjavur

The walk

A desolate woman faces the hardest lesson of life. Bhargavi Chandrasekharan pens a story based on a true incident. ...

Prelude: The narration below is loosely based on the testimony of an eyewitness of the gory 'Mullivaikkal incident,' Sri Lanka. This is a humble effort in bringing out the many human right violations going on in the civil war of Sri Lanka.

I walked along the clearing, possibly away from the battle grounds. My legs have lost their sense of pain, without the sophisticated technique of lobotomy. I had two little beings with me, one decked around my hip and the other clutching my palm. There was no desperation felt by either of them. It was life as they knew it.

Oh, how I wish I had their knack for acceptance, without any trace of remorse or pain. I knew instantly that I would never reach that level of numbness. Because, I felt miserable. I feel happy being miserable. One feels light when happy, flies in the yonder. But pain pins you down to the earth, it makes you heavy, solid. Agony is concrete, I could use it like a bollard.

I waded on, like I had any other choice. My mind was trudging backwards though. It always did that to me. About a year back, it called “my home.” That was when my house was pulled down by the good Samaritans. One couldn’t complain much, the entire village was offered to agni deva. Deva…GOD. Yeah, God, does he have a life outside our vocabulary? What kind of God is he, punishing for our sins in previous births? Shouldn’t he be a reformative God than a punitive one? The rare smile sprang across my lips, making my visage bloom like a brown flower.

I have to describe myself, for there is no one else alive. Count these children out, they are not the poetry types. Why didn’t I say 'my' children here, you may wonder. Hello, are you in this world at all? One grabs as many lives one can and runs on. War is not the time to conduct DNA tests. Like some of you might add cheekily, we all look the same, dirty brown, aint it?

Don’t answer. Wait. Something is blocking my floor. Ok, go on, it is just another dead body. Like I was saying, about a year back, my mind used to pine for “my home.” Then we moved to the bunkers, quite like the Nazi settlements if you want a reference. We have observed uninitiated fasts many times, the husband, the children, the mother, the father in law and I. We dedicate it to your causes, whatever they may be, as long as it brings peace. So where are these people I mentioned, you wonder again. Oh boy, how would I know? It is the kind of place where rice is priced at Rs.750 per kilo and a box of milk powder at Rs.1500 per box.

It is the kind of place from which people escape like drowning persons taking to fresh air. More precisely, it is the kind of place where a wife hopes her husband would abandon her. Let him live, at least, is the premise. You see our thought process operates in two parts, one where we have resolved not to die, second where we wished anybody who willed to live, after all we know the pain of being half way through. And, that is when my mind stopped calling out, “my husband,” “my mother.”

We had covered some 7 and half miles that day, too tired and tied up to respond to the stench from the dead, barely coming across a live human being. I must have been the inamorato of Mr.Death in one of my previous births. Ah, now that explains why I see him everywhere. I smile again, lips twitched to one side, wanting to part, in vain.

Oh yes, I see a lady there. Do you? I frantically search for the happy smile in my brain. I own a few, for sure. I had it on very recently, hmmm, a year or so ago? Yup, right somewhere in the bottom corner of the top. Ah, here it is. She has a child latched to her breasts, suckling merrily. Her eyes are closed, in ecstasy, or is it pain? Beautiful, nevertheless. I framed it in my mind for future use.

“Mother! Sister!!” I reached out to her. She fell backwards. I could see the blood oozing from between her legs. I walked past the future body of the child. Life, goes on. But so will death, is it not? I wore my overused wry smile, again. Should I live a refugee in India or die in Mullivaikkal was the question of the millisecond. “My country!” bellowed my mind. Stupid, loving, hopeful mind.

The sight of the beach, or the ocean used to blow my sorrows some years back. I wished it had the same effect now. How could it when I still hear the distant cries of tortured souls? Or when I hear the hurried footsteps of the army men? I enter into the roofed ensemble. I am still walking, not running, I am incapable of pushing my body anymore. I don’t think the army men saw us entering into that place, else he wouldn’t throw his bombs so aimlessly. Whiz. Whizz. Boom. Wheez. Silence ensued after a while. It had to.

I picked up my kids, yes, mine and walked towards the shore. I struggle my way into the boat, you see both my hands are tied. One kind man looks at me sympathetically and holds the kid whom I had to carry. “He is dead” he said pointing at the sliced tummy of the tender child, in a matter of fact tone. I merely nodded and climbed the ramp with the other child, my son, and hear the mild thud and splash in the waters.

The sympathetic man comes back with food for both of us. He looks at me sympathetically, again. He is hungry too. One should learn to respect human desires. Especially the ones which urge him to live. I silently follow him. I turn back to see if the son is puzzled by his mother’s strange behaviour. He is staring at the sea. He is a quick learner. Don’t you think?

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#Mullivaikkal #fiction #Bhargavi Chandrasekharan