Sugandhi Alias Andal Devanayaki

by T. D. Ramakrishnan

  ‘Okay. I’m not going to argue with you. I only spoke out because I want the truth behind Rajini Madam’s murder to come to light. I hope that the truth will be uncovered when Christie and his crew make the movie.’

  ‘I am Vaidyalingam Shanmuganathan. I was running a canteen in the Teaching Hospital when Rajini was killed. I know certain details about the murder. The murderer was Bosco. Rajini’s students pointed her out to him. Those students are now practising abroad. Bosco is dead. He had close connections with the Iyakkam. Four or five days before the murder, Bosco started visiting the hospital. I used to see him speaking to those students I told you about. He found out Rajini’s routine at the hospital. He also made a note of the route she took daily. On the day of the murder, one of the students stood near the gate, another near the canteen, and signalled to Bosco as Rajini came out. I never saw Bosco near the hospital again.’

  Everyone listened to Shanmuganathan’s words in shock. Before they could recover from the impact of his words, a gunshot was heard. The bullet flew past me, just inches from my nose. Shanmuganathan, who had been shot below the left ear, writhed in pain on the floor. Blood spurted from his neck on to Mary’s face. Many people fainted around us. Shanmuganathan, who seemed to have much more to disclose, died within minutes.

  The police shifted us from the hotel to the Sri Lankan military base. Mary, who was admitted to the ICU in the military hospital, only regained consciousness the next morning. Though the doctor said there was nothing to worry about, Christie was anxious. The first thing she said when she woke up was that she wanted to watch No More Tears Sister again.

  10

  Shanmuganathan’s murder was a setback for the Sri Lankan military. For the first time, since their total failure in 2009, the Iyakkam had managed to shock Jaffna. That too, by shooting a man speaking at a women’s meeting in one of the better hotels. The murderer cleverly escaped. The bullet was aimed not merely at Shanmuganathan, but also at the conviction that a second coming was impossible for the Iyakkam. That bullet sent shock waves throughout the Sri Lankan administrative system, alarming even the president. Within minutes of the murder, several meetings were held at the military and administrative headquarters of Sri Lanka, steps were taken to energize the activities of the Terrorist Investigation Division and to strengthen the secret service wing.

  The cabinet decided that this was clear evidence that the Iyakkam feared Christie’s movie, so they directed Samaraveera to hasten its completion. Though Samaraveera instructed Christie to wind up the research and rewrite the script following his directions, Christie refused. He argued that the government could not direct his movie. Finally, the president himself spoke to Christie and they reached an agreement. Samaraveera did not issue any more instructions regarding the script.

  The international media reported the shooting incident extensively. The BBC and CNN telecast Amina El Abidi’s interviews. She always spoke about upholding Rajini’s martyrdom and the necessity of women raising their voices against war. Naturally, the Hollywood production based on Rajini’s life became part of the news. Veering away from this trend, Al Jazeera telecast Return of the Tigers. Their Colombo reporter stressed that the Iyakkam was about to come back with redoubled vigour. It was as if the global media was waiting for its return. Channels in India and Sri Lanka discussed this issue. But as there were no further developments, this wave soon subsided.

  Even after a week had passed, the TID was not able to identify Shanmuganathan’s murderer, nor were they able to pinpoint the organization behind the crime. The only progress in the enquiry was that they were able to locate a white Toyota car, used by the assailant to escape, abandoned on the A9 highway near Chavakachcheri. Though eyewitnesses swore that a woman had been with the killer and that a man had sat in the car with the engine running to help them get away, the police could not arrest anyone. Shanmuganathan’s relatives did not lodge a police complaint. What is more, they did not even claim his body after the post-mortem. No organization came forward claiming responsibility for the murder. But on the tenth day of the murder, someone placed an effigy of Shanmuganathan in front of Veerasingam Hall with a placard that read: ‘The Fate of a Traitor’. This was a slogan used repeatedly during the heyday of the Iyakkam. Hearing this, many of the students who had organized the screening of No More Tears Sister left the hostel to stay with their relatives in Colombo. But Poomani Selvanayagam was forcibly pulled out of the hospital and taken to an unknown destination in a white car. This was a time when white cars were feared, and her friends became extremely anxious.

  Due to security concerns, we stayed in Colonel Chaminda Mendez’s quarters at the headquarters of the security forces. This was much more comfortable than the hotel. The colonel’s beautiful wife, Anuradha, was a movie aficionado as well as a marvellous hostess. We never felt that we were staying at a military base. Anuradha’s mesmerizing Sinhalese beauty, good food and wine were excellent catalysts, and work on the script progressed apace. Even the colonel made time to have dinner with us despite his busy schedule. One night, as we were having after-dinner drinks on the terrace, he shared new information about Rajini’s murder.

  ‘Christie, Rajini was not murdered by an ordinary killer but by one of the Iyakkam’s professional assassins. They had trained these assassins from the very beginning, and had given them many privileges denied to the other cadres, like women, drugs and alcohol. Their only duty was to murder those whom the Iyakkam wanted dead. The rest of the time, they were free to do whatever they wished. Sivarasan, Rajiv Gandhi’s assassin, was one of them. It was because he was a professional that Rajini’s assassin was able to shoot his target through the forehead even though she was on a moving bicycle, and to fire enough bullets to ensure her death after she fell down. To be honest, no one in the military could pull this off. The pain of the victim does not bother these hardened killers.’

  ‘Was Bosco one of them?’

  ‘He could have been. But I’m not sure. Because Rajini’s murder has another peculiar dimension. It might be connected to her human rights activism or the Iyakkam. It could have been her marriage to Dayapala Thiranagama. You must know of Dayapala’s connection with the Janatha Vimukthi Peramuna. The JVP had close ties with the UTHR that Rajini and her friends had established. It was to conceal this connection that Daya Somasundaram changed the name of the organization to UTHR Jaffna. That was a time when the government and the Buddhists were hunting down the JVP. On the fifty-second day of Rajini’s murder, 13 November 1989, Rohana Wijeweera, the founder-leader of the JVP, was killed in an encounter with the army. The military intelligence reported that Rajini had been working in the inner circles of the JVP. The government suspected that UTHR Jaffna was a façade for such activities. Surely the Iyakkam too might have had the same suspicions.’

  ‘But, Colonel, do you feel that such suspicions would lead to murder?’

  ‘Maybe not. But these are all reasons that could have led to it. It was the same in the case of the feminists that Karpooram was speaking about.’

  ‘Yes. I was about to remark upon that. This is something that Christie can use in the movie. There was an undercurrent of western feminism in Rajini’s activism.’

  ‘The Iyakkam was never able to accept this. They were extremely patriarchal in their outlook. Under the pretext of protecting the chastity of women, they took a stance that denied women any sort of freedom. That is why they viewed outfits like Poorani with suspicion.’

  ‘Madam, are you trying to make Rajini a feminist?’

  ‘Why? Do you doubt it? Wasn’t she a feminist?’

  I looked at her without speaking. She was voluptuous and I couldn’t avert my eyes from the visual feast her forty-year-old body was providing me. She understood immediately. But, unperturbed, she poured me another peg of whiskey. It was then that Mary got a text message from Karpooram saying that Poomani Selvanayagam had been abducted.

  ‘Wasn’t that the girl who went to so much trouble to screen No More Tears Sister?’
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  The colonel smiled in reply, then said helplessly, ‘There is no use. She is the Lion’s newest prey.’

  Nobody asked who the Lion was. Everyone at the military headquarters seemed to know. Anuradha left abruptly. The colonel too departed after wishing us goodnight.

  When the Lion came into the room, it was past midnight. He really resembled a lion. A middle-aged man with greying hair parted on both sides. He sported a dark moustache. Though he was wearing pyjamas, he had a military bearing and physique. He had a way of staring at you with his eyebrows furrowed. Poomani, exhausted from fear and humiliation, stood up to greet him. The enraged Lion did not look at her. He brushed past her and sat on the sofa. Then he asked, ‘Didn’t they tell you how to come before me?’ It was like the roar of a beast and she trembled in fear.

  They had told her how to behave. She was to wear a light green or yellow sari well below the navel, and wish him ayubowan with lotus blooms in her hand. After the initial formalities, she was to change into a sarong. A light green sarong with yellow flowers had to be tied around her waist, then twisted through a filigreed silver ring several times and tied around the neck. He did not like women to use perfume, powder or any sort of cream. Sweat was the best perfume as it aroused him. So she was supposed to make an effort to perspire. As pregnancy was the first stage of punishment, she was to try and conceive as quickly as possible. She was to join him in smoking, eating and drinking – whatever he did, she had to emulate, obey unquestioningly.

  She had been given all these instructions. But because she was exhausted from weeping, she had forgotten all of it.

  Poomani asked for pardon and went to the washroom to change. There was a cupboard fully stocked with clothes. A beautiful lotus flower smiled at her from the blue water in a crystal bowl. The flower did not know her plight. Poomani took off her jeans and wondered whether she should bathe, then she remembered his penchant for the smell of sweat. She wore a sari and went to him carrying a silver tray. The expression of fear on her face, like a rabbit in the moonlight, enhanced her beauty. Unmoved, the Lion pulled her next to him.

  ‘You are in the last year of medicine, aren’t you?’

  She sobbed as she nodded.

  ‘Why are you crying? Don’t you want to become a great doctor like Rajini and study abroad? Don’t you want to become a human rights activist of international repute?’

  Recognizing the sarcasm in his voice, she wept. She knew that escape from this fort, the most guarded place in Jaffna, was impossible.

  ‘Intelligent girls like you are the pride of the nation. You shouldn’t waste your life interfering unnecessarily in political issues. You are about to be punished for just that.’

  ‘But I didn’t do anything.’

  ‘Didn’t you organize a meeting of Women Against War? How did you get the courage to organize such a meeting when the whole world is after our country, accusing us of war crimes and human rights violations? Don’t you know that what you have done is treason? Unfortunately, this country lacks the laws to punish such misdeeds. Moreover, the courts are filled with human rights activists, so laws would be futile anyway. That is why I have to punish people like you. War is the dominion of men. Why do women need to interfere?’

  She bowed her head in silence. The Lion pulled her up. ‘Do you know what your punishment is?’

  She knew. It was the first thing the leader of her abductors had told her. ‘If you resist, you will be thrown into the sea. If you obey, your life will be spared. But you will have to give birth to a Sinhalese baby.’ Scared of death, she had agreed. But she hadn’t realized that it was such an important person’s baby that she had to conceive.

  ‘Pattavesi! Why don’t you smile? They brought you here alive because you agreed to give birth to a Sinhalese child.’

  She did not want to aggravate the Lion further, so she tried to summon some confidence.

  ‘I had agreed, but somehow I can’t feel happy.’

  He laughed. ‘Be happy that you escaped death!’

  She too felt it was true and a slight smile appeared on her face. He gathered her to himself greedily. She was tiny in his huge arms. Unable to feel happiness or to resist him, she cried out, ‘Ayyo Amma.’ He paid no attention to her cries. He held her tight to make sure that she was completely under his control. Fearing what was about to come, she stood still. But, as if to remind her of what was to follow, he ordered her to serve him food when the clock struck one.

  The Lion loved food and alcohol. He insisted that she share everything with him. When she refused liquor, the Lion became furious, so she sipped a little. It helped her feel more confident. She had lost the life she was leading in any case, so it was better to accept what she had been given.

  When the Lion finished dinner hurriedly, she understood what was needed and quickly changed into a sarong. As it took her a while to tie it neatly around her, he had to wait.

  ‘Pattavesi! You look pretty, you don’t look like a Tamil girl. Was your father Sinhalese?’

  Though the term ‘pattavesi’ irritated her, she didn’t say anything. She felt that it applied to her. She wasn’t a virgin anyway. But only a woman who sold her body could be called a whore. Well, from today she was a whore, exchanging her body in return for her life. As she stood thinking, he said, ‘Pattavesi! Come closer.’ She realized that the profanity aroused him.

  As he undid the first twist of her sarong, the Lion lost control. He led her to bed. Removing her sarong twist by twist, he took possession of her body. When the final twist was undone, she became part of his body.

  ‘Is this the first time for you?’

  ‘No. You are my fourth.’

  He was surprised. He had imagined that the worst punishment for a woman was to be robbed of her chastity.

  ‘Is it necessary to be a virgin to be punished like this?’

  ‘No. But it is not very comfortable to become pregnant. And to deliver a baby is even more difficult. That is your real punishment.’

  ‘Who started this strange system of punishment?’

  ‘I started it. It began fifteen years ago. I have punished eight so far. You are the ninth. All of them, like you, were suffering from diseases like human rights or feminism. Three of them were cured. They are living with their babies and working in minor jobs for the government. Four are pregnant. Only one committed suicide. You are the first non-virgin to be punished. That is why you are not crying about your lost chastity – quite unlike the others.’

  She made a decision and covered the Lion with kisses. Then she asked him, ‘Can I dress you up in a sarong?’ She took her sarong and put it around his neck. As he lay back enjoying her nudity, she pulled both ends of the sarong through the silver ring and pulled hard. The Lion died within minutes.

  The next day was a public holiday in Jaffna. The dead body of the Lion, who had succumbed to a heart attack, was taken in an air force helicopter to his home town in Ratnapura with all official ceremonies.

  Though Poomani’s dead body washed ashore and was recognized, nobody claimed it. She was laid to rest in the public crematorium.

  11

  I received a very strange email on the third day of Poomani’s death. I was shocked when I read the email address: poomaniselvanayagam@gmail.com. How could a dead person be sending me an email? Or had she sent it before dying? But she didn’t know me well enough to write to me. On reading it, though, I understood that it was not from Poomani.

  Dear Peter,

  This email will shock you, I am sure. I am not Poomani Selvanayagam. I cannot reveal who I am now as my official position doesn’t allow me to do so. But I respect and admire Poomani. It was due to her courage that the marks made on the Lion’s neck, because of the tightening of a sarong, had to be hidden under wreaths of flowers. These are now jokes in the corridors of power in Colombo. I too had gone to Ratnapura to put a wreath on his body. I didn’t want to miss any opportunity for revenge. I saw other women like me put wreaths on him with hatred writ clear upon t
heir faces. By then, the president had arrived to pay his last respects. When the police cordoned off the area, I left without waiting for the cremation. I am like Poomani and several other women: a prey. The Lion was not a racist when it came to searching for prey. He did not insist on Tamil women. That is why he trapped me thirteen years ago, by sending my husband to Israel for training just six months after our marriage. Though I was working as a researcher in the Sri Lankan archaeological department, I was also part of a group that opposed violence against women. We conducted a campaign about the problems women had to face during the civil war. My crime was that I had said in a public meeting that the Sri Lankan army could learn from the Tigers when it came to the treatment of women. Neither the media nor society paid heed to my words. But the military intelligence did. And the one-man court of justice, the Lion, punished me. As my husband was a captain working under him, and as I was not as courageous as Poomani, I had to submit to his will.

  Within hours of my husband leaving for Israel, a gang came in a white car and dragged me out from my home. They broke me by threatening to kill my parents. The main accusation against me was that I was an Iyakkam spy. They used my speech at the Women’s Day rally as evidence. All my resistance ended when they led me naked to the prayer room in Divine Pearl, where the Lion was waiting, pistol in hand.

  I felt humiliated when he grabbed me, growling, ‘Pattavesi!’ No man other than my husband had touched me before that. I felt nauseated when I smelled his foul body odour. He looked at me with rage, shouting, ‘Pattavesi!’ That was the only way in which he addressed me until I left DP. Everything he did was nauseating. If you didn’t join in those games, he would torture you. Despite his busy schedule, he would come to DP once a week, itching to mete out punishment. Before my husband came back from Israel, I became pregnant. When the Lion sent my husband straight to Elephant Pass, preventing him from even coming home, my punishment was complete. In the third month of my pregnancy, I was shifted from DP to another place. By this time, he had another prey – a student leader, not yet eighteen. Like me, she too had criticized the army. Because she resisted him, she was killed on the third or fourth day. But carrying the child of a man you hate is a punishment worse than death. The Lion had taken all precautions to ensure the safe birth of the child. I delivered a healthy baby boy. I feared that the baby would be taken away from me or killed. But nothing of that sort happened. Two weeks after my delivery, he sent me home – threatening to kill me if I dared to speak about this.