Dark Deeds

Dark Deeds

‘Good evening Colonel Balendra!’ said the man standing behind the table. He had stood up to welcome Balendra. Balendra had never expected this.

‘Good evening dear Thalaivar!’ In Tamil, Thalaivar meant leader. His eyes were still adjusting to the gloom, after the glare of the setting sun. The room had no windows, and the walls were made of granite, twice as strong as concrete.

Colonel Balendra walked to the only other chair around the table as quickly as possible, not wanting to keep the Leader waiting, standing. His heart was pounding. This was it. This was what he had wanted to do since he was forced to watch his eleven year old sister being raped and then burnt in her own bed, in July 1983.

Balendra had seen the Leader many times before. But all those times were with crowds. At public rallies or when he used to make visits to training camps. But today was different.

The Leader motioned for him to sit down, ‘Before anything else, let me have the honour of asking you what you would like to eat this evening?’

Colonel Balendra knew very well that this was a mere courtesy. The Leader would have scrutinized and probably memorized everything about him, which would have appeared in his file, ‘Anything that you like, I like.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Of course.’

The Leader turned and motioned to one of his bodyguards who were standing in a circle around him. One man left the room, ‘You are ready?’

‘More than ready!’ Colonel Balendra said with conviction.

‘Confidence is good, over confidence is not.’ said the Leader. Meeting him in person, up close and personal, was quite different to what Balendra had envisioned.

Sitting in front of him was a chubby man with puffy cheeks, with a voice so soft and gentle that it could hardly be heard. Yet he exuded an aura of power, of authority. He was the undisputed leader of the LTTE. The Liberation Tigers of Tamil Elam, one of the world’s most ruthless and successful guerrilla groups, with the nerve to take on the roaring and mighty Indian army. Yet here he was dressed in a simple sarong and shirt, about to share a last meal with a member of the most elite LTTE unit.

*

Colonel Balendra and the Leader spoke of many things, the cause, the path ahead. Even a few personal questions like, would the Colonel have married and had children if not for the task at hand. The answer to this question would not have appeared on the Colonel’s file.

As soon as the door to the room opened, the aroma of south Indian delicacies swam through. Soon the table was spread out with Chapattis, Dahl, and Devilled Potatoes, all vegetarian of course. There was even yellow rice, although the Leader never ate rice, for certain reasons. Balendra’s file outlined yellow rice as one of his favourite foods. They ate in silence. After the meal, ice cream was served. It was one of the Leader’s favourite foods. After the table was cleared, the Leader looked directly into the Colonel’s eyes. He was awed by their intensity, ‘Do you have a final wish?’

The Colonel did have one, and he told the leader about it.

*

On the way to the bus terminus, the Colonel could not help but replay the last words the leader had said to him, ‘A disciplined force of ten men can easily defeat an undisciplined force of a hundred.’

He very well knew that the Sinhalese army had a bad track record when it came to discipline amongst its troops. When it came to women, money and booze, almost every soldier indulged in them. They were distractions. In LTTE ranks, all of these were either banned or unacceptable.

Night had fallen when the jeep finally appeared from beneath the cover of the dense jungles of the Wanni. There was no road, just shrubs and other plants. The way to the base was only motor able halfway. After that it was a long walk through dense jungle. All supplies were carried in by foot, and straying off the path meant certain death, or at least grievous bodily harm as the entire area was severely mined. Basically the Leader’s base was impenetrable to anyone who did not know what they were doing.

On his left he could see lights in the distance. He would be arriving soon. The documents were safely in his pocket. He was on his way. There was no turning back. Nothing would ever stop him now. He clutched onto the glass phial that hung around his neck. He hoped no emergency would arise.

The Colonel was far too excited to take a nap during the long drive to the bus terminus. So he went over the plan one more time. It was flawless, thought of by the Leader himself.

When he arrived at the bus terminal, the bus for Colombo was already boarding. There was heavy security. Every one had to submit to body checks and all bags were thoroughly screened. Balendra had little to worry about except what to say if he was asked questions.

The army personnel walked around with dogs and their radios emitted an almost ceaseless cackle. Night had brought with it a slight chill. The queue was quite long. Each person had to present their National Identity Cards. Some were asked questions, some were not. Finally it was the Colonel’s turn. He handed the small plastic bag with clothes inside to one officer.

‘ID ekka denna?’ give your ID, the other soldier asked a little too harshly. Balendra casually pulled out his ID card, which of course was a forged one, and handed it over to the soldier. The LTTE were some of the best and most skilled forgers around, ‘Kohay dha yannay?’ where are you going, asked the soldier.

The army sometimes has an incorrigible habit of speaking in Sinhala to the Tamils and harassing them for their lack of knowledge of the language. It is also true that very few soldiers know a good word of Tamil, although some have gone to great lengths to learn as many swear words in Tamil as they can.

‘Mama kolamba diha yanawa mahattaya.’ I am headed toward Colombo sir, replied Balendra in fluent Sinhala. Part of his training for this mission was to master the language, even the different dialects and accents.

‘Aye?’ Why.

‘Magay yahaluwek Dehiwala langa leda vela mahattaya.’ A friend of mine has been taken ill near Dehiwala.

By this time, the other soldier had gone through his bag and began bodily searching him. When the man reached the Colonel’s pockets, he stopped, ‘May munada?’ what’s this, ‘Gannawa eliyata.’ take it out.

‘Magay yahaluwata liyum keeyak.’ some letters for my friend, said Balendra, while slowly pulling the envelopes from his pockets. In reality they were secret LTTE documents for an agent in Colombo. The soldier took the envelopes into his hand and flashed his torch light at them, then at Balendra’s ID, then at his face.

Colonel Balendra’s heart quickened. Did they suspect something, ‘Yahaluwata papuwa amaaruwa hadila. Powula liyum yawanawa.’ my friend is having heart problems, his family have written letters to him. The soldier continued to hold the torch to his face.

After a long pause the soldier said, ‘Eheymada?’ Is that so?

‘Owe mahattaya.’ yes sir.

The man nodded, handing Balendra his things. Balendra accepted them, said thank you and started walking toward the bus. Suddenly one of the soldiers shouted out, ‘May!’ here! The Colonel’s heart almost stopped. He slowly turned around. A soldier was walking towards him, ‘Meka amathaka vuna!’ you forgot this, he said, holding out the ID card.

‘Sthuthy!’ thank you.

‘Suba gamanak!’ bon voyage, said the soldier, smiling.

‘Sthuthy mahattaya!’ thank you sir.

As Balendra was boarding the bus he remembered a fellow cadre who once told him, ‘Speak Sinhala to a Sinhalese and they will assume that you are their friend.’ He was glad for the gruelling hours he had spent in the past few months learning the language.

He was so relieved that he had not had to use the Cyanide phial earlier than necessary, that he did not notice a young woman looking intently at his figure boarding the bus, and then make a phone call.

*

The bus plied its way to Colombo on the rutty road. All the passengers had fallen asleep. Suddenly headlights were blazing on the road ahead. Balendra assumed they belonged to a routine army patrol. Army patrols always travel at high speeds, even on rutty roads, to avoid being attacked of ambushed.

The headlights were getting closer but they were not moving to their side of the road. Balendra did not worry too much. The army liked to terrorize people, sometimes more than the terrorists.

The vehicles were getting closer but they were not moving to clear the way for the bus. Suddenly the driver realized that the on coming vehicles were not going to move and swerved the bus off the road.

Suddenly there was a flash and everything became an eternal whiteness.

*

LTTE kills LTTE

Colombo, Sri Lanka, a bus travelling from Vavuniya to Colombo veered off the road onto an LTTE mine field late last night. All the passengers and the driver are reported dead. Unconfirmed reports say that among the deceased is Colonel Balendra, the head of the LTTE’s Black Tiger unit. Government sources say investigations are underway.

*

Dear Mr. President,

We are not fools. We have already seen through your little trick. Laying mine fields and pushing vehicles off the road. We are sick and tired.

I write to you to inform you that your precious daughter is in my custody. Here is the deal. It is non negotiable. I will draw 10ml of blood from her body every day, till she either succumbs or till you and your racist government agree to sign a Declaration of Independence for Tamil Elam and cease all hostilities.

You must now choose. Terrorise the Tamil people or save your daughter’s life.

I will assure you we will do nothing to her other than extract 10ml of blood from her everyday and feed the vultures with it. I hope we come to an understanding soon, without any more ‘innocent’ blood being shed.

Signed

V.P

P.S: We will now see your true colours.