Grandfather's Letters

By Anjalendran C.

The controversial Professor of Mathematics, scholar and lawyer from Vavuniya – C. Suntharalingam, was a member of independent Ceylon’s first cabinet of Ministers. Resigning from his post, he wrote open letters decrying the direction Ceylon’s independence was taking. These letters, present insight into Suntharalingam’s life and a version of events that contributed to Sri Lanka’s tumultuous recent history.

• Language: English
• Publisher: We Green Solutions
• Release date: Aug 10, 2016
• ISBN: 9789811105401

Book preview

C. SUNTHARALINGAM’S

LETTERS TO HIS

GRANDCHILDREN

Published by SAILFISH, 2016

an imprint of the Perera-Hussein Publishing House

www.pererahussein.com

ISBN: 978-955-7743-01-1

First edition

All rights reserved.

Copyright © SAILFISH, 2016

Grandfather’s Letters is a collection of writings, previously published in newspapers, compiled and edited by C. Anjalendran, who asserts the right to be identified as the owner of this work in accordance with the Copyright, Design and Patents Act.

Printed and bound by Gopsons Papers

To offset the environmental pollution caused by printing books, the Perera Hussein Publishing House grows trees in Puttalam – Sri Lanka’s semi-arid zone.

Ebook ISBN No. 978-981-11-0540-1

Ebook by We Green Solutions Pte Ltd

Smashwords Edition

SAILFISH is an imprint of the Perera-Hussein Publishing House, dedicated to the intellectually curious. Our books stimulate thought-provoking or challenging viewpoints.

GRANDFATHER’S

LETTERS

In memory of Kanakambikai

Introduction to Grandfather’s Letters

On the land like unto ocean,

I assume the form of a wave,

and trusted dreams as a life.

I was trapped in the whirlwind of three desires,

ensnared day after day.

For the mound of my body I searched for food

without rest night or day.

I eat, eat and sleep seeing nought else, I get no gain.

On the shore of sorrow I erect a tent of five virtues.

I regarded thou as my mother, my son.

yet thee treat me in this fashion?

Without interceding on my behalf,

standing in-between and questioning me

is it good to remain so?

Oh! my Lord! The Lover of Sivakami !!

Thou who created me, oh! Natarajah of Thillai !

This poem from the Natarajapathu was a favourite of my grandfather’s mother and hence himself, and was translated by my grandfather on 14th January 1978 (Thaipongal day), and annotated in his mother’s copy of the Kandapuranam from 1930.

I got to know my grandfather rather late in his life. I had just returned, at the end of 1977, from England having finished my post-graduate architectural studies at the Bartlett of University College London, where my grandfather had studied mathematics. My mother’s temperament was similar to mine, and we could not live in the same house. I moved in with my grandparents in my aunt Lingamani’s annexe in Elfindale Avenue in Colombo, often taking fortnightly sojourns to their homes in Vavuniya and Keerimalai. Thus I got to know my grandfather, who was immobile with glaucoma, and got to know his history by typing his memories and historical notes.

Original newspaper cuttings of a series of letters published in the newspapers were kept by my mother. It is a curious twist that though most of these letters have been addressed to my elder brother (as he was the eldest grandson) and the rest of my cousins, I seem to be the custodian of the only originals available. Most of my grandfather’s secretarial work was done by his daughters Lingawathi (my mother) and Lingamani (my god-mother).

It is hoped that the re-publication of these letters more than half a decade later, will give an eyewitness account of how Ceylon (as it was then known), which got independence without bloodshed (with mathematical manoeuvring by my grandfather), soon became ethnically divided due to political gain. Though the separatist movement initiated by my grandfather, has been stopped, by the death of Vellupillai Prabakaran of the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eylom; have the Tamils by any means gained peace?

During my sojourns with my grandfather, I had collected a basic archive of edited material which was presented to my grandparents in 15 albums on their 60th wedding anniversary on the 29th March 1983, comprising of the following:

01. Curriculum Vitae and Autobiography.

02. Grandfather’s Original Newspaper Letters: Series I (1964)

03. Grandfather’s Letters: Series II (1973)

04. Ramanathan from Personal Knowledge (1967/76)

05. Leaders of Sri Lanka from Personal Knowledge (1967/76)

06. Press, Platform and Parliament.

07. Memorandum on the restoration of the Ciranjivi C:Eylom Thamil Nation Free State (1967/70/71/78)

08. Tamils, Moors and Indian Labour (1968/69/64)

09. Early Geographical Essays (1969)

10. Kandy Esala Perehara (1969)

11. Koneswaram (1968/69)

12. Appar/ Thiruketishwaram (1973)

13. Noah’s Ark/ Adam’s Peak (1973)

14. Onesicritus Notes.

15. Historical Notes.

These then were my grandfather’s interests, and fortunately have been saved before the holocaust of July 1983, which ensured a Diaspora of the extended Suntharalingam clan of which only I now remain in Sri Lanka. It is hoped that now that the war is over, that at least some of them would return to Sri Lanka, though not as tourists!!!

The above dossiers are in the custody of the undersigned grandson, and may be seen with prior appointment.

My grandfather was a moderate, a difficult position to deal with the rising political chauvinism around him, often sometimes making him likewise. With his mathematical and legal bent of history, he could spin his political opponents and even engage in debate with the archaeological commissioners of the day!

I would like to thank Ameena Hussein and Sam Perera for agreeing to republish, and more importantly edit these letters with me, and for being patient with my non-deadlines. We have decided to include my grandfather’s essay on ‘What I believe’ from the Ceylon Observer of October 17th 1937. Furthermore, we have included a curriculum vitae, done by my grandfather while he was alive, compiled from two different versions.

The book is dedicated to my grandmother Kanakambikai, whose portrait from 1923 is featured in the frontispiece. The end piece shows my grandfather Suntharalingam, with my father Kanekenthiran Chelvadurai, whose temperament was similar to all docile in-laws that married into the volatile Suntharalingam clan!!! I would like to imagine that my grandfather would have approved of this choice.

C. ANJALENDRAN

60/8 Bogahahena Road, Battaramulla

Tel: [phone]

10th March 2016

Foreword

The Eylom Grandfather’s Letters came to be written for a dual purpose: firstly, to inform the grandchildren about the conditions in the country in which their grandfather was born, grew up and lived, and still lives a varied and stormy life – a personal historical retrospect of Ceylon in transition from late Victorian British Colonialism to early Independence in the British Commonwealth of Nations; and secondly to give the grandchildren guidance to keep pace with the vast changes – social, educational, employment, economic, atomic and political that have swept and are sweeping, over the country – guidance which it is earnestly hoped may prove profitable to all Ceylonese grandchildren in the whirling of time.

The first ten letters were serialised in Tamil in the Eyla Nadu and all twenty in English in the Ceylon Daily Mirror between 27th May and 5th August 1964. There followed corrections, comments and criticisms, both public as well as private. These, when found useful, have been incorporated in the preparation of the letters for publication in book form. Many have been the requests of friends who are anxious to have first hand and behind-the-scenes information, about many matters and events which transpired in Ceylon during the first three-quarters of the twentieth century. Special attention has been paid to secure strict accuracy in the presentation of facts. For any lapses of memory the Grandfather would welcome corrections and ask forgiveness.

C. SUNTHARALINGAM

Lingam-Thottam

Vavuniya

1

Maharalinga Wasa

Keerimalai

My dear Gnanalakshmi,

You are my first grand-daughter. You are, therefore, the grandchild to whom I should most appropriately write about my mother.

My mother must have put me to sleep over her shoulder. I was awakened crying. My eyes opened on a world of milk. In whichever direction I looked, I saw nothing but milk. That is the first recollection I have of life in this world. I wonder whether you and other grandchildren can recall the very first event in your lives. It will be fine fun if you can.

In my case, as I learnt from my mother, I was awakened crying, by my father and the milk that I saw all round was the shallow sea beaten briskly into white foam by the wind and flanked by the white sands on the beach near the Kankesanthurai port on a cloudless moonlit night. My father had arrived by steamer from Colombo to spend at Urumpirai – my mother’s home village – his long holiday during the Hindu New Year and Easter vacation.

At that time I was the youngest child of my parents. Panchalingam, Nagalingam and I had been born. Thiagalingam and Amirthalingam were still to be born. You will see in the copy of the photograph I am sending you how I looked when I was about three or four years old, closing up to my mother as if slightly frightened and rather wondering. I have seen you do likewise, as many children do. It is to their mother rather than to their father that they turn instinctively for protection and care. But alas, how many mothers in modern times prove themselves equal to this maternal duty or are in a position to perform it adequately? I hope in your time you will as a mother do to your children what your great grandmother did to hers.

You know your great-grandmother had five sons – no sweet daughters like you. I have given their names already. The eldest was Panchalingam. You will ask me, as many of my friends have, how it happened that the eldest name was Panchalingam and that there should be only ‘Five Lingam Brothers’ as the press described them in later years. You may be surprised to hear the story.

As soon as your great-grandmother gave birth to her first child, your great-grandfather with great joy went to consult the best astrologer in Jaffna and had his new-born son’s horoscope cast. The astrologer after carefully consulting the Panchangam’s, the Hindu Vedic calendar, and making the necessary calculations is said (so my mother told me) to have addressed these words to him:

Do not be alarmed by what I’m going to say. You will be the father of five sons. You will be no longer of this world within a year of your last son’s birth; you will not live to see the day when each of them will achieve greatness in his line. And this son of yours will not live much longer than his early manhood.

After conveying this forecast with mixed joy and sorrow to his wife, your great-grandfather proceeded to invent a rare name (which has now become common) and called his first son Panchalingam. Believe it or not every word of that forecast was proved by events to be correct.

Panchalingam held a record for a number of years at the Ceylon Medical College by securing the largest number of medals, prizes and scholarships.

Nagalingam rose to be Senior Puisne Justice, acting Chief Justice and acting Governor-General. He would have and should have been permanent Chief Justice and a permanent Governor-General had it not been for the misfortune of having been born an Eela Thamil. Yes, unfortunate days have fallen on the Thamils of Eelam since 1955. I shall in subsequent letters to your brothers and cousins, describe these matters in more detail.

Next to Nagalingam is your own Appah. Very few grand-daughters have had a more versatile, vigorous and vitriolic grandfather than your Appah. You will read more about him in the letters to follow.

Thiagalingam holds one of the highest positions in his profession as a Q.C., and has a most generous heart. He has only contempt for your Appah and his political vagaries.

Your grand-uncle Amirthalingam had to suffer a good deal in his career because he happened to be your Appah’s brother. His career was distinguished at school and university. He retired before his time as Director of Fisheries of Ceylon. He is now Professor of Zoology in the University of Khartoum, Sudan – a position he could not attain in his own country. He was the first non-white to be appointed to the teaching staff of the University College in London. If he is not in Ceylon today and if he is not in a position to give of his best to the land of his birth, alas! it has to be ascribed again to the fact that in independent Ceylon he began to be treated, after 1955, as a Thamil of Eelam.

All of us brothers attained ‘great’ positions – in the sense in which the astrologer forecast – because of your great-grandmother. She was illiterate. She could only affix her thumb impression as she could not even sign her name. Nonetheless, she was highly educated. She learnt by ear alone. She knew the Ramayana and the Mahabharatha with its Bhagavat Gita, through and through. She was well informed regarding the news of the world. Books and papers would be read to her when she was old, while she lived an ascetic life at Keerimalai.

At Urumpirai, she would regularly attend the Katpaga Pillayar Temple whenever there was ‘Padippu’ that is when Puranas or the religious Hindu texts were sung in verse and explained in the age-long traditional style. She was a regular devotee at the Nallur Kandasamy Temple. I treasure her copies of Mahabharatha and Ramayana in Tamil, which made her give such correct guidance and correct advice, at the correct time to her sons.

She became a widow when her eldest son was barely fourteen years old and the youngest not yet nine months. She conserved her dowry properties and the ‘Thediya Thedam’ with so much care that from the income she was able to educate her sons. When she died she left an estate of no mean value judged according to Jaffna standards. I must give you a few instances of her mellow wisdom.

The question arose at a certain stage as to whether her sons should receive secondary education in Colombo or Jaffna. Her brothers, who were responsible for collecting the incomes from the properties at her request, advised her that if we were sent to Colombo and wasted our wealth – as many of the Cinnamon Gardens Thamil children had done – we would have nothing to fall back upon in later life. My mother was adamant: "It would be better