Sri Lankan writers in English

https://www.thehindu.com/books/sri-lanka-new-literary-voices-writers-debut-books-novels-war-society-politics/article68535824.ece

The island nation’s young crop of writers is winning international awards and starting conversations on their post-war society and its unique challenges

Updated – September 17, 2024 11:26 am IST

 
(From right) Authors Shehan Karunatilaka, V.V. Ganeshananthan, Yudhanjaya Wijeratne, Shankari Chandran, and Thushanthi Ponweera.

(From right) Authors Shehan Karunatilaka, V.V. Ganeshananthan, Yudhanjaya Wijeratne, Shankari Chandran, and Thushanthi Ponweera. | Photo Credit: Special arrangement

The past years have seen numerous Sri Lankan writers and those of Sri Lankan origin make their mark on the literary awards circuit. Recently, V.V. Ganeshananthan won the 2024 Carol Shields Prize for Fiction and 2024 Women’s Prize for Fiction for her novel Brotherless Night, which took 18 years to write. Australian-Tamil author of Sri Lankan Tamil heritage, Shankari Chandran, won the 2023 Miles Franklin Literary Award for her third novel, Chai Time at Cinnamon Gardens, which is set in contemporary Australia and 1980s Sri Lanka; her first book Song of the Sun God is being adapted for television, starring Bridgerton’s Charithra Chandran.

 
Author V.V. Ganeshananthan

Author V.V. Ganeshananthan | Photo Credit: Special arrangement

Shehan Karunatilaka’s Seven Moons of Maali Almeida won the 2022 Booker Prize, while his debut novel Chinaman: The Legend of Pradeep Mathew won the DSC Prize for South Asian Literature and the 2012 Commonwealth Book Prize. Vajra Chandrasekera’s debut novel The Saint of Bright Doors was recently awarded the Nebula award for best novel, Locus first novel award and 2024 Crawford award, and was shortlisted for a Hugo award. In 2021, Sri Lankan Tamil author Anuk Arudpragasam was shortlisted for the Booker Prize for his second novel A Passage North; previously, his first novel The Story of a Brief Marriage (2016), won the DSC Prize for South Asian fiction.

 
Sri Lankan author Anuk Arudpragasam

Sri Lankan author Anuk Arudpragasam | Photo Credit: Getty Images

Sri Lankans — both resident in the island and in the diaspora — have been telling their stories for decades, but when literature is shaped by the marketplace and writing is ascribed value by literary gatekeepers of the western world, perhaps the world hasn’t been ready to hear these stories.

 

“The idea that Sri Lankan creative writing in English has come into the spotlight only recently is possible only when we focus on the international awards Sri Lankan writers have been winning of late. But writers living in Sri Lanka, as well as diasporic authors have been writing for a long time,” says Neloufer de Mel, Senior Professor of English (Chair) at the University of Colombo. “What has happened now is that a generation of Sri Lankan writers, who are between 30 and 50 years of age, are writing on the Sri Lankan war, its society, and its politics in new ways and voices. They also belong to a more global generation with international links and so, have been successful in getting their work internationally published and in circulation. It is this generational shift that I think is important to mark, and what is exciting is their new voices, figurative imaginations, use of language, and the stories they tell.”

Writing as a team sport

In the 90s and early 2000s, writers such as Michael Ondaatje, Romesh Gunesekera, Shyam Selvadurai, Carl Muller and Michelle de Kretser were also successful in publishing internationally and reaching wider audiences. Currently, Yudhanjaya Wijeratne, Amanda Jayatissa, Nizrana Farook, Thushanthi Ponweera and Shyala Smith are among the new crop of writers making their mark in science fiction, thriller, and children’s writing, internationally. Their books display inventiveness in form and explore a variety of themes drawing from Buddhist mythology, Sri Lanka’s socio-political history, its civil war and more.

Author Shehan Karunatilaka

Author Shehan Karunatilaka | Photo Credit: Special arrangement

“I think it is always nice when writing — which can be very solitary — becomes more of a team sport where you are able to cheer for other people who are interested in the themes, ideas, people and communities that you are, and who have their own approaches and language and energy that they’re bringing. It just makes the conversation so much more interesting and exciting and less lonely. I think it’s the beginning of great things, hopefully, to come for writing connected to Sri Lanka and I hope that it will expand so that those who are working in Sinhala and Tamil also get more of the spotlight because I know remarkable work has been taking place in these languages for a really long time,” says novelist Ganeshananthan, who is based in the U.S.

 
Author Thushanthi Ponweera

Author Thushanthi Ponweera | Photo Credit: Special arrangement

While writing and publishing in English remains a niche market in Sri Lanka, the country has a long literary tradition of Sinhala and Tamil writing. Although there has been little overlap in recent years, there are ongoing efforts to encourage translations and cross-pollination between the three languages. “Translations are very important because this is the way you get to read each other’s work, particularly in monolingual societies as in Sri Lanka. There are very few people who work in literary translation here and this is a great setback. The Gratiaen Trust has offered the H.A.I. Goonetilleke Prize for translation of creative writing from Sinhala and Tamil into English since 2003 to encourage such translations,” says de Mel, former chair of the Gratiaen Trust. “University departments of English and Sinhala have also added translation, either as a course or module, into their curricula in Sri Lanka. These are good initiatives, but we need a concerted effort to encourage and train more literary translators because this is a special field in its own right.”

Author Shankari Chandran

Author Shankari Chandran | Photo Credit: Special arrangement

Long road to publishing

While there is a welcome spotlight on stories about Sri Lanka, the road to publication remains long. In interviews, author Karunatilaka has spoken of the struggle to get Seven Moons published. It was seen as a ‘difficult’ book by many — the only publisher willing to take it on was an independent firm, Sort Of Books, based in the U.K.

Author Yudhanjaya Wijeratne

Author Yudhanjaya Wijeratne | Photo Credit: Special arrangement

In 2022, Sri Lanka faced its worst economic crisis since independence, and is currently rebuilding from the aftershock. In a bid to increase government revenue, the state has imposed taxes on previously exempt industries such as publishing. For writers based in Sri Lanka, this is yet another challenge to overcome. “The price of books [fiction] is exorbitant, so writers find it hard to access contemporary fiction. Writers need to read and when a country levies high taxes on books, it dampens critical thinking and creativity,” says Ramya Jirasinghe, who recently won the 2023 Gratiaen prize for her unpublished novel, Father Cabraal’s Recipe for Love Cake.

 
A generation of Sri Lankan writers, who are between 30 and 50 years of age, are writing on the Sri Lankan war, its society, and its politics in new ways and voices.

A generation of Sri Lankan writers, who are between 30 and 50 years of age, are writing on the Sri Lankan war, its society, and its politics in new ways and voices. | Photo Credit: Getty Images

But for many Sri Lankan writers, the recent spotlight on Sri Lankan stories is encouraging. “If you accept how small this country is, how small our reading/writing population in English is, and how hard it is for local writers to access resources, what is happening now is groundbreaking. Shehan and Ashok [Ferrey] have broken into global markets becoming trailblazers for others and have shown that it can be done from Sri Lanka,” says Jirasinghe. “Sri Lanka is very unique even within South Asia, which means that our stories really must leave these shores and encounter readers from around the world.”

The writer is based in Colombo.

 

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Emission Radio: Election présidentielle au Sri Lanka: l’heure du renouveau politique (France Culture)

https://www.radiofrance.fr/franceculture/podcasts/les-enjeux-internationaux/election-presidentielle-au-sri-lanka-l-heure-du-renouveau-politique-2275458

 

Anura Kumara Dissanayaka a été élu dimanche soir président du Sri Lanka, devenant le premier président de gauche du pays. D’obédience marxiste et fils de paysan, il incarne un renouveau politique très attendu…

Avec
  • Delon Madavan Géographe, chercheur associé au Centre d’Études de l’Inde et de l’Asie du Sud de l’EHESS

La prise de fonction de Dissanayaka intervient deux ans après la révolution citoyenne : il a promis de “faire de son mieux” pour relever le pays, en répondant aux aspirations de la population face à l’austérité.

Qui est Anura Kumara Dissanayaka, le nouveau président du Sri Lanka ?

Dissanayaka, le nouveau président du Sri Lanka, a connu une trajectoire tout à fait singulière. D’abord leader du parti d’inspiration marxiste JVP, le Front de Libération du Peuple, il a mené dans les années 1970 et 1980 deux insurrections pour renverser l’État sri-lankais, considéré comme capitaliste et impérialiste. Mais la violence de la répression coûta la vie de 60 000 personnes, retrace Delon Madavan. “Dissanayaka a donc renoncé à la violence et a recentré sa position politique en reconnaissant la nécessité de composer avec l’économie de marché”. Son élection, pourtant surprenante après des scores électoraux marginaux en 2019, est largement due au soutien du mouvement de protestation “Aragalaya”, né en réaction à la crise économique et politique de 2022.

 

Les défis du nouveau président

Depuis cette date, la situation au Sri Lanka reste très précaire. Selon Delon Madavan, Dissanayaka fait face à des attentes considérables : “pendant sa campagne, il a voulu rassurer sur son engagement marxiste, tout le monde craignant qu’il n’applique le plan de sauvetage du FMI. S’il ne compte pas le rejeter, il a promis d’en renégocier les termes, notamment pour alléger le fardeau fiscal qui pèse sur la population, dont un quart vit désormais sous le seuil de pauvreté. Parmi ses autres priorités figurent la lutte contre la corruption et la poursuite des membres de la famille Rajapaksa [famille influente dans la politique sri-lankaise, NDLR] pour détournement de fonds et abus de pouvoir. Il souhaite “aussi éviter que les fleurons de l’économie nationale ne tombent entre les mains étrangères via des privatisations”. Dissanaeke doit rétablir la confiance dans une classe politique accusée de népotisme et d’autoritarisme tout en gérant une situation économique très inflammable.

 

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Books on the Ravana trail

Ravana’s Lanka. The Landscape of a Lost Kingdom

Sunela Jayawardene, 2024, Vintage Penguin Books

About the book: https://www.community.lk/history/442-ravana-s-lanka-sunela-jayawardene-s-quest-to-uncover-sri-lanka-s-ancient-civilizations

 

The Line of Lanka. Myths & Memories of an Island

Sunela Jayawardene, 2017, Sailfish

Sit back and let yourself be swept along in Sunela Jayewardene’s intrepid journeys across Lanka’s lush countryside. Join her and rediscover myth & legend, history & heritage as she adroitly describes nature’s enduring beauty and oft forgotten traditions that pulse to the beat of an unseen drum. Line of Lanka is a brilliant and unusual portrayal of a country and its people that will change your perceptions of Sri Lanka.

About the book: https://srilankanwriters.wordpress.com/2018/05/22/re-imagining-an-islands-past-by-needling-through-the-cement-of-dominant-history-sunela-jayewardene-author-of-the-line-of-lanka/

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Theatre Review

https://www.themorning.lk/articles/dlVsywe2gWZaOZmX28DJ

From The Morning.lk

 

‘Water for Kings’: A poetic tragedy echoing Sri Lanka’s own divides

03 Sep 2024 | By Venessa Anthony

 
‘Water for Kings’: A poetic tragedy echoing Sri Lanka’s own divides

 

 

Taking the stage at Kolamba Kamatha over the weekend was ‘Water for Kings’, which captivated audiences with its powerful narrative and evocative performances. The production was staged from 29 August to 1 September, with an extra matinee show on Sunday (1) due to high demand.

The Daily Morning Brunch had the opportunity to witness this profound piece of theatre, and the experience was nothing short of remarkable. Directed by Mind Adventures Theatre Co. founder and Artistic Director Tracy Holsinger and written by Ramya Jirasinghe, ‘Water for Kings’ left us deeply moved, its compelling performances and resonant themes making a mark.

The cast, led by Prof. Saumya Liyanage, Brandon Ingram, Hidaayath Hazeer, Shala Amarasuriya, and Tharusha Kumarasinghe, delivered powerful portrayals that brought this tragic narrative to life. Supporting them were the versatile talents of Dinuli Mendis, Sonali Wanigabaduge, Nabeel Nooramith, and Udula Karawita, with Shala Amarasuriya also contributing as the Music Director, adding an emotive layer to this already impactful production.

In a world where access to water is both a necessity and a luxury, ‘Water for Kings’ masterfully transformed this universal truth into a tragic tale that felt both timeless and eerily relevant. Written in contemporary verse, this play was more than just a theatrical performance – it was a profound commentary on power, inequality, and the high costs of social change.

Set in a mythic land divided into Wet and Dry Zones, ‘Water for Kings’ explored the stark differences between the haves and the have-nots, with water serving as the metaphorical lifeblood that separated them. The Wet Zone thrives, lush and abundant, while the Dry Zone, neglected and parched, becomes a symbol of marginalisation. The play didn’t shy away from drawing parallels to real-world issues, particularly those familiar to Sri Lankan audiences, where geographical and socio-political divisions continue to shape the nation’s landscape.

 

The power of water as a metaphor

Water, in this play, is more than just a resource; it’s a symbol of power, control, and the inequalities that arise when that power is abused. The deliberate restriction of water to the Dry Zone by the ruling class of the Wet Zone is a clear allegory for how resources are hoarded by those in power, leaving the marginalised to suffer. This is a story that resonates deeply, especially in a country like ours, where similar disparities between regions have historically led to conflict.

The play’s protagonist, Prince Muthukumar, represented the rare figure of a ruler who is not content to let such injustices continue. When he visits the Dry Zone, guided by Rani, a slave girl turned concubine, he is confronted with the harsh reality of the land’s suffering. This moment of revelation is a turning point, not just for the character, but for the entire narrative. The visuals of the Dry Zone, depicted as a wasteland of shrivelled, desperate souls, are haunting and powerful, driving home the severity of their plight.

 

A chorus of the forgotten

One of the play’s most striking elements was its use of a chorus made up of the dead from the Dry Zone. These spectral figures, embodying the ghosts of those who perished due to the lack of water, served as a powerful reminder of the consequences of neglect. Their presence was a constant, unsettling force that pushed the narrative forward, compelling Prince Muthukumar to confront the failures of his lineage.

Their influence culminates in a scene where they confront the King himself, forcing him to see the devastation his ignorance had caused. This confrontation, and the subsequent change of heart it inspired in the King, marks the beginning of a new era for the Dry Zone, as the King finally begins to take action to rectify the wrongs of the past.

 

The tragedy of good intentions

But ‘Water for Kings’ is not content to leave its audience with a simple tale of redemption. The second act of the play delved into the complexities of power, showing how even the best intentions can be thwarted by ambition and manipulation. The introduction of the High Priest, a figure who opposes the King’s reforms, added a layer of intrigue and tension to the story. The Priest, portrayed with a chilling intensity by Brandon Ingram, represented the entrenched interests that resist change, preferring to maintain control at any cost.

As the King prepares to abdicate, intending to pass the throne to his two sons, it becomes clear that his vision of joint rule is doomed to fail. The play poignantly illustrated how power struggles, even within a family, can lead to disaster. Prince Asvajith, the weaker of the two brothers, becomes a pawn in the High Priest’s game, manipulated into making decisions that ultimately bring about the kingdom’s downfall.

Muthukumar, the King’s favoured son and the architect of many of the kingdom’s reforms, tragically meets his end in a storm, a symbolic representation of the chaos that ensues when good intentions are not enough to bring about lasting change. His death, while poetic, left the audience with a sense of unfinished business – a reminder that change is often messy and incomplete.

 

A commentary on modern Sri Lanka

‘Water for Kings’ subtly, yet powerfully, comments on contemporary issues in Sri Lanka. The divide between the Wet and Dry Zones is a thinly veiled reference to the real-world divisions between the country’s north and south, where resources and opportunities are often unevenly distributed. The play’s exploration of how faith leaders can influence political decisions is also particularly relevant, given the country’s history of religious and political entanglements.

The play does not shy away from criticising those who are quick to dismiss the suffering of others simply because they do not share the same geographical or cultural background. The King’s initial ignorance of the Dry Zone’s plight is a stark reminder of how easy it is to turn a blind eye to the suffering of those who are different or distant.

 

Impressive performances and production

The cast delivered strong performances across the board, with standout moments from Hidaayath Hazeer as Prince Muthukumar and Shala Amarasuriya as Rani. Hazeer captures the complexity of Muthukumar’s character – a ruler torn between his duty and his compassion – while Amarasuriya brings a quiet strength to her role, making Rani the emotional core of the play.

The production itself is minimalist, but this worked to the play’s advantage, allowing the powerful dialogue and verse to take centre stage. The choreography was particularly effective, with the actors doubling as both the background and the set, creating a fluid, dynamic stage that enhanced the storytelling.

Sound design was another highlight, with the use of the venue’s acoustics adding to the overall atmosphere. The original orchestra music, performed by the actors themselves, added a layer of authenticity and emotion to the play, though some moments – particularly the love song between Muthukumar and Rani – felt slightly underdeveloped.

We found ‘Water for Kings’ to be a play that demands attention, both for its poetic craftsmanship and its poignant social commentary. While it is dialogue-heavy, as expected for a piece written in contemporary verse, the play’s message is clear and resonant. It’s a story that, while set in a mythical past, feels all too real in today’s world.

The play’s exploration of the consequences of ignoring expertise, the dangers of misguided opposition, and the relentless pursuit of power makes it a thought-provoking experience that lingers long after the final curtain falls. In a country still grappling with its own divisions, ‘Water for Kings’ serves as a powerful reminder of the costs of inequality and the urgent need for true, meaningful change.

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Film review “Gaadi Children of the Sun”

From Colombo Telegraph

“Gaadi Children Of The Sun” The Journey In Search Of Identity & Freedom

“Gaadi Children Of The Sun” The Journey In Search Of Identity & Freedom

By Upali Amarasinghe

Silence in the jungle is eerie. A man and a woman in their vibrant youthfulness move in silence. The silence of the woman is deafening. The audience eagerly awaits to hear her voice. She does not talk much. In fact, she is silent almost throughout the film as if she has taken a vow of silence. She speaks mainly with her eyes and face expressions. Those emotions embody and speak volumes about the tragedy of her life – a tragedy befallen on her for a crime not committed by her.

She is Tikiri, one out of the two protagonists in Gaadi, the latest film by Prasanna Vithanage

Set in British Colonial period of Sri Lanka in 1814 Gaadi is a film about complexity of human relations, identity, political upheavals of pre-colonial and colonial Sri Lanka and the subjugation of an outcast community through caste system.

What Prasanna says is useful as an entry point to this review.

“In this historical epic journey, two people from two different social strata are brought together against their will and struggle to co-exist refusing to lose their identity. When pushed to the limits of survival, in order to survive, they finally come to realize that life doesn’t exist on identity itself.

I thought of using this theme as an allegory to question this illusion, in a world where humans constantly wage wars in the name of national or religious identity”.

This film is an epic of a particular historical moment in Sri Lanka at one level. At another level, it is not necessarily a story set in the past history of colonial times. We slowly begin to realize it only when we get detached from the story. This film is about the present and the future of Sri Lanka. It is about the identity politics at its worst. Prasanna tells us a story through the lens of history – a history that has not only been constantly repeated in the present times but also descended to an abysmal decay. While watching the film, we sense the uneasy and inevitable connection between the lives of the subaltern in the pre-colonial period and the lives of people living in the despicable conditions in the modern world. This troubling understanding originates from the following perspective of the artist. 

“Generally speaking, art is an expression of man’s need for a harmonious and complete life, that is to say, his need for those major benefits of which a society of classes has deprived him. That is why a protest against reality, either conscious or unconscious, active or passive, optimistic or pessimistic, always forms part of a really creative piece of work. Every new tendency in art has begun with rebellion”. – Leon Trotsky’s Art and Politics in Our Epoch (June 1938)

The film wages a very conscious protest against realities of the past and the present times. The protest that Tikiri and Vijaya are waging in the film is not distinctly manifest. It is hidden yet palpable. Beneath that apparently simple storyline, there is the undercurrent of human desire to struggle against class and caste system, discrimination and social injustice. This struggle is not necessarily pronounced through direct presentation of visuals or dialogue. It is hidden deep inside the core of the film.

The Gaadi clan is obviously placed within pre-colonial and colonial times. The audience cannot miss the subjugation of the Gaadi clan within that socio-political context. The film provides a kaleidoscopic view of the subaltern in transformation. They beg; sing; dance; face violence; live in fear of the aristocracy. They are the “human dust” as scornfully pronounced by Ehelapola Adigar, Prime Minister of the kingdom. 

But then they protest, not necessarily through a rebellion. Vijaya, the young man representing the clan demonstrates a silent protest. He survives the wrath of the aristocracy together with the woman joining him from the aristocracy. 

In essence, Gaadi deals with identity of people. It surreptitiously demonstrates that our society is riddled with a structural crisis beyond the issue of identity. It shows that we are still deeply stuck in the quagmire of racial and religious hatred. People are yet to see the true opponent – the larger system that feeds on such division, inequality and social injustice. All these social realities are embedded in the cinematic language and brilliant artistry. 

They say “art brings to our attention the greatest human concerns not in the form of scientific or philosophical reasoning but in pictorial and sensuous form, in concrete images which please or move or trouble or do all three”. (The Sky between the Leaves by David Walsh 2013)

Gaadi for sure does all three, particularly the last.

It is a film dealing with the stifled voice of the subaltern – a community subjugated by the aristocracy. In a larger perspective, it is about all people living in suppressive socio-economic structures looking for their freedom. However, freedom for Gaadi community proud to be Children of the Sun does not come easy. In fact, the price to be paid is heavy.

The last scene of the film with Tikiri and Vijaya standing on the edge of a mountain top and looking at the far away vista is telling. This is where Vijaya is pondering over what both of them should do after seeing mass killing of his clan.

This is where Tikiri speaks to Vijaya for the last time in the film. 

“He (the Chief of the Clan) wanted to see you live and continue the clan.”

After two of them slowly vanish into the thick jungle, following postscript appears on the screening.

The British went back on the promise given to the Kandyan leaders. On 15th February 1815 Ceylon became a colony under the British rule. They abolished the influence of the caste system on the specification of professions. The members of the rodiya caste thus gradually changed their identity and integrated themselves with the other lower strata of society.

Truly the Gaadi community integrated themselves to the lower strata of the society and we come to realize that the lower strata of the current society remains at the lower strata fast descending to the lowest. 

Deeply etched in to this socio-political setting of the yesteryear, it is also a story of blossoming love. The love that is unspoken throughout the film between an aristocratic woman condemned and a man of the Gaadi community oppressed. 

It is a human relation in transformation. From beginning to the end of the film, the audience accompanies two human beings in their journey. The audience witnesses their struggle and critical events that test their patience, endurance and trust. They are confronted with personal as well as socio-political events of the time. They know that they will survive or perish in those circumstances. 

There is careful weaving and gradual building of their unspoken love. It is deliberately built up from one visual to the next creating a great deal of curiosity in the spectator. The audience feels that mthe tension between Tikiri and Vijaya is being built up to a crescendo. The conflict between the two creates tension. Tikiri cannot come to terms with the reality that she has become part of an outcast community. Her deep-seated aristocratic roots do not allow her to take on the new identity thrust upon her. At the end, she reached a stage where she goes through a change based on the gradual development of human connection with Vijaya.

One of the unique characteristics of this film is its simplicity. 

The film maker adopts linear story telling technique. The film maker does not allow the form to override the content. The form is an integral part of the content. There is no enigmatic and unfathomable film technique or flashbacks. It does not mean such techniques are essentially bad. But this film does not seem to require them. At one level, it is simply historical story retold with an interpretation of film makers’ imagination and creativity. 

There is one distinct characteristic or signature of Prasanna’s films. He adheres to minimalism religiously. If there is dialogue in this film, it is because the film cannot exist without it. Frugality is his forte. One ideal example to prove this point is his use of music in the film. We find only three instances where he decides to play background music. And when he does that, it creates the ultimate impact. When Vijaya and Tikiri run for their life through the jungle, they emerge on a rock with an expansive view of mountainous range. Then we hear a sobering music piece with a violin expressing its love and affection. This is the expression of Vijaya’s love for Tikiri. This music piece takes us to the heart of Vijaya filled with love and affection for Tikiri..

He relies heavily on the visual and character development. He allows characters wander freely in relation to their particular circumstances. He lets them encounter life experiences and present them to the audience visually. The audience slowly comes to grips with gradual development of the characters from skeletal forms to fully enriched human beings. These human beings are compassionate, loving, empathetic, violent and egoistic and full of contradictions. 

Special mention should be made to the quality of cinematography and editing. Editing of the film by Sreekar Prasad, the Indian film editor seems seamless. When the soldiers of the King’s army ride on horseback to capture the family of Bulathgama Adigar, we hear the pounding on the door of the house by the soldiers. We do not see them.  We only see the family members running for cover. When they hear the breaking of the door, the camera is zooming on the close-up of family members’ faces. Mortal fear is written on their faces. This is a marvelous moment of cinematography and editing. The audience never sees the soldiers entering the house.

We frequently encounter close-up shots in the film. When the women march towards their death one after the other, camera is zooming on the faces of the women with full of anxieties. Face of Iragani Serasinghe, one of the women, has nothing but pride. She is proud to be retaining her honour before she jumps into her death. The camera focuses on the anxieties of other crying women as well.

What Sreekar Prasad says in general about editing makes a great deal of sense and applies very much to Gaadi.

“The selection of shots and their duration on screen is crucial to create the desired impact in the given scene. When you string various shots together while sustaining a certain emotional level you are invariably setting the momentum of the entire film. The more seamless a film appears the better it has been edited. When a performer is doing a fabulous job, you cannot interrupt him or her with cuts, even though you may have the option to do so. If an actor is fabulous in a long uninterrupted take, the editor should not intervene. The cardinal rule is to strike a balance between the narrative pace and the performance.

Eventually it all boils down to a good sense of judgement. For example, if a shot in a film has a girl crying you can keep it on for 10, 20 or even 40 seconds, but as an editor you should be able to gauge the film’s impact on the audience”.

Careful casting of the actors and actresses has positively contributed to the above depiction. Dinara Punchihewa’s debut into the film world as an actress is unique. In her role of Tikiri, she has the challenge of conveying complex human emotions mainly through face expressions. She truly embodies the transformation of her character from being stubborn and relentless to a compassionate and empathetic woman in the film.  Sajitha Anuththara playing the role of Vijaya exudes an ebullient and captivating presence with an impish smile on his face and some antics when his character demands such behaviour. He tries his best to enchant Tikiri. But it takes him to the end of the film to break through the barrier to her heart. Ravindra Randeniya as Ehellapola Adigar establishes his overarching power within the short period of his acting in the film. He gives life to that character of authoritative aristocrat. Shyam Fernando as seemingly loving husband of Tikiri later discarding her for self-grandeur lithely demonstrates the transformation of his role.

When we step away from the storyline, we may start reflecting on some of the following questions. 

What is identity? How is this concept being interpreted and misused over the years in theory and practice? How do we understand identities claimed by the diverse communities living in Sri Lanka or elsewhere? To what extent should we treat identity as an important social phenomenon? How do we deal with the question of integration of diverse identities (forced in certain cases) to supposedly create a common identity? What is the connection between pluralism and identity? How does question of identity play in the societal and inter-personal human relations? How do we understand nationalism and identity in a class society? 

This film does not directly raise these questions. It does not also provide any answers and there is no need for it. However, the film provides the space and inspiration to reflect on those questions.

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Sri Lanka related articles in new issue of SOUTH ASIA

South Asia: Journal of South Asian Studies is pleased to announce the publication of Vol. 42/4 (August 2019), available via the Taylor & Francis website https://www.tandfonline.com/toc/csas20/42/4?nav=tocList.

Articles

Representing the Sportsperson: Television Advertisements and the Evolution of Sports Discourse in India, by Sonal Jha

Sexual Nationalism, Masculinity and the Cultural Politics of Cricket in Bangladesh, by Adnan Hossain

‘An Evil Thing’: Gandhi and Indian Indentured Labour in South Africa, 1893–1914, by Goolam Vahed 

Nehru’s Non-Alignment Dilemma: Tibetan Refugees in India, by Ria Kapoor

‘To Shock the Conscience’: Rhetoric in Death Penalty Judgements of the Supreme Court of India, by Rajgopal Saikumar 

Priceless Enthusiasm: The Pursuit of Shauk in South Asia, by Kirin Narayan and Muhammad Kavesh

Special Section: Lankapura: Sri Lanka and the Ramayana in Historical Perspective 

Guest Editors: Sree Padma and Justin Henry

Introduction. Lankapura: The Legacy of the Ramayana in Sri Lanka, by Sree Padma and Justin Henry 

Articles

Explorations in the Transmission of the Ramayana in Sri Lanka, by Justin W. Henry

Borders Crossed: Vibhishana in the Ramayana and Beyond, by Sree Padma

Mapping Lanka’s Moral Boundaries: Representations of Socio-Political Difference in the Ravana Rajavaliya, by Jonathan Young and Philip Friedrich

Ravana’s Sri Lanka: Redefining the Sinhala Nation, by Dileepa Witharana

Reclaiming Ravana in Sri Lanka: Ravana’s Sinhala Buddhist Apotheosis and Tamil Responses, by Pathmanesan Sanmugeswaran, Krishantha Fedricks and Justin Henry

source: AISLS

 

“Compte rendu de l’exposition « Visages de la baie du Bengale » de V. P. Vasuhan” par Alain Cardenas-Castro et Christophe Comentale

L’exposition des œuvres de V. P. Vasuhan a eu lieu du 1er au 27 septembre 2019 à la Galerie Impressions les mercredis de 18 à 21h et les samedis de 14 à 19h.

Le mois de septembre est propice aux retours des événements culturels et des expositions. La galerie Impressions inaugure cette rentrée avec un accrochage singulier intitulé « Visages de la baie du Bengale ». L’exposition propose le regard de deux peintres sur l’état du monde à travers leurs cultures respectives, l’un du Bengladesh et l’autre du Sri-Lanka, V. P. Vasuhan, qui fait l’objet de cette livraison.

via: Sciences & Art contemporain

🎥 Lester James Peries (1919-2018) ‒ ලෙස්ටර් ජෙම්ස් පීරිස් ‒ லெஸ்டர் ஜேம்ஸ் பீரிஸ்

ලෙස්ටර් ජෙම්ස් පීරිස්

Lester James Peries
(1919-2018)

லெஸ்டர் ஜேம்ஸ் பீரிஸ்

Figure majeure du cinéma srilankais, Lester James Peries vient de s’éteindre à l’âge de 99 ans. Il est né en 1919 sur l’île de Ceylan, alors colonie britannique. Il a commencé sa carrière cinématographique au Royaume-Uni, tout en exerçant le métier de journaliste. En 1952, il a regagné son pays devenu indépendant pour travailler au développement de la création cinématographique locale. Il a connu son premier grand succès en 1963 avec Changement au village et a réalisé une vingtaine de longs métrages au cours de sa carrière. [En savoir plus sur suravi.fr]

Considered the father of Sri Lankan cinema, Lester James Peries just died at 99 years of age. He was born in 1919 in the then British colony of Ceylon, and began his film career in Britain while working as a journalist. He returned in his newly independent country in 1952 to help with the growth of the local film industry. His first big success came in 1963 with the film Changing Village and since then he has made about 20 feature films. [more on suravi.fr]

source: Suravi

“Demons in Paradise : thèmes et controverses autour d’un travail de mémoire” par Eric Meyer

Le beau film de Jude Ratnam, actuellement en salle à Paris (à l’Espace Saint Michel), propose au spectateur, à travers une vision personnelle de la montée du militantisme séparatiste tamoul et des violences intestines qui ont opposé ses différentes composantes, une réflexion sur la mémoire d’une communauté confrontée à la tragique défaite des Tigres en 2009.

Les premières images du film, tirées d’actualités de la période coloniale, invitent à un retour en arrière historique. Sri Lanka, l’ancienne Ceylan, a été profondément transformée par un système colonial fondé :
– sur une conquête de l’espace matérialisée par un réseau de transports (le train, omniprésent dans le film) qui a connecté des régions jusque alors séparées, en particulier la ville tamoule de Jaffna, où se déroule une partie du film, avec le sud peuplé en majorité de Cingalais, la capitale coloniale Colombo, et l’ancienne capitale royale Kandy ;
– sur une prise de contrôle de l’économie par une agriculture de grandes plantations surimposée à l’agriculture paysanne cingalaise (une partie du film montre Kandy et les régions qui l’entourent, où se situent les grandes plantations de thé fondées sur le travail servile des coolies tamouls) ;
– et sur une domination culturelle et politique par l’imposition de l’anglais, langue du colonisateur, devenue en même temps un instrument de communication entre des groupes locuteurs de deux langues très distinctes, le cingalais parlé par 75% de la population, et le tamoul par 25%.

Ce qui conduit à la matière de la première partie du film, la discrimination dont ont été victimes après l’indépendance (1948) les minorités de langue tamoule (hindouistes, chrétiennes, musulmanes), majoritaires dans le nord-est de l’île, mais minoritaires dans le centre et le sud, confrontées à l’affirmation de l’identité majoritaire des Cingalais bouddhistes. Elle s’est traduite par l’abandon de la langue anglaise au profit du seul cingalais comme langue officielle en 1956, et par une succession de violences, en 1958, 1977 et 1983. Le film donne à entendre et à voir ces marqueurs identitaires que sont les langues, mais aussi les vêtements et les signes corporels. L’usage différentiel de ces trois langues, anglais, tamoul, et cingalais, selon le registre émotionnel ou discursif, et selon les interlocuteurs, y est d’une grande subtilité et authenticité. Les stratégies d’effacement (celui du pottu), ou de travestissement linguistique ou vestimentaire que devaient adopter pour leur survie les victimes de persécutions sont un thème récurrent du film.

La rupture du lien symbolique et pratique entre Cingalais et Tamouls qu’était la langue anglaise a correspondu à la rupture du lien matériel constitué par la ligne de chemin de fer reliant Colombo à Jaffna : ce train qui avait permis l’exode du narrateur enfant fuyant le pogrom de Colombo en 1983, et dont les images de wagons rouillés, envahis par la végétation, de gares dévastées, et de rails coupés, envahissent l’écran. Rupture dans l’espace, mais aussi dans le temps : le travail de mémoire de l’enfant devenu adulte et père à son tour passe par la reconstitution de ces fragments d’un passé où l’exode en train vers Jaffna occupe une place obsédante.

Mais cette mémoire personnelle s’inscrit dans une mémoire collective qui rend compte de l’adhésion de la population tamoule au projet indépendantiste de l’Eelam Tamoul. Comme le montre le film, ce sont les violences dont ont été victimes les Tamouls de Colombo et de Kandy qui l’ont rendue irrésistible. Le film convoque la puissance de l’image en mettant en scène le témoignage de l’auteur de la photographie devenue célèbre d’un homme nu martyrisé à Colombo en juillet 1983 par une bande hilare : l’interrogation sur la banalité du mal qui s’amorce ici va se poursuivre dans la seconde partie du film dans un autre contexte.

La montée du militantisme des Tamouls du nord en réponse à la violence de 1983 est le fait d’une multitude de groupes, pour la plupart basés dans la péninsule de Jaffna, qui s’arment pour protéger leur communauté. Ils se différencient par leur origine sociale (de classe ou de caste) et par leur stratégie plus que par leur idéologie : très vite ils luttent entre eux pour la suprématie du mouvement de libération, tandis que les services secrets de l’Union Indienne appuient et cherchent à manipuler certains groupes, avant d’intervenir directement en 1987 avec l’envoi d’un corps expéditionnaire. Les ‘Tigres de Libération de l’Eelam Tamoul’, qui privilégiaient l’action violente immédiate et excluaient tout accord avec l’Inde, s’imposent par la force face aux autres groupes (TELO, PLOTE etc) qu’ils éliminent physiquement ou absorbent. Ils mènent d’abord une lutte victorieuse contre l’armée et la police du gouvernement de Colombo, et contre le corps expéditionnaire indien. Ils prennent en 1990 le contrôle de Jaffna et y font régner leur loi : ils cherchent à rendre irréversible la séparation des deux parties du pays, et à empêcher hommes et femmes en âge de combattre de quitter le nord : un épisode du film montre symboliquement comment ils contraignent les candidats à la fuite à scier les rails de la ligne.

L’exode des jeunes Tamouls hors de Sri Lanka, qui avait commencé en 1983 pour fuir la répression du gouvernement et des groupes extrémistes cingalais, se double alors de l’exode de ceux qui fuient la conscription forcée des Tigres : tout ceci nourrit une diaspora tamoule qui aujourd’hui constitue, en Europe et en Amérique du Nord, une communauté transnationale aussi nombreuse que celle qui est restée à Jaffna ; le film montre comment ces deux communautés communiquent – notamment par Skype – mais aussi comment s’amorce un travail de mémoire, après trente ans de violence.

C’est alors que s’impose dans la seconde partie la figure tutélaire de celui que le réalisateur appelle son oncle, dont le douloureux travail de mémoire donne au film des accents d’émotion intense, lorsqu’il retouve les Cingalais qui ont abrité sa famille durant les émeutes – un comportement qui n’a pas été exceptionnel -, lorsqu’il évoque l’accès de démence de sa mère, et lorsqu’il se remémore les camarades qui ont été assassinés pour l’avoir protégé. Manoranjan, aujourd’hui journaliste réfugié au Canada, a en effet milité dans un groupe annihilé par les Tigres. Il s’interroge sur l’échec final de la lutte indépendantiste, qu’il attribue à la stratégie des Tigres et à l’effet des luttes fratricides entre factions rivales. Le questionnement s’approfondit et rejoint la réflexion sur la banalité du mal amorcée au sujet du pogrom de 1983, lorsque d’anciens militants rappellent l’attitude des spectateurs tamouls lors du massacre par les Tigres des militants du TELO, et finalement lorsqu’ils retrouvent autour d’un feu des survivants des différents groupes, y compris d’anciens Tigres, qui rejettent la responsabilité de la défaite sur l’opportunisme de la population tamoule.

On comprend que le film ait fait l’objet de violentes critiques de la part de Tamouls de la diaspora restés attachés à une image idéalisée de la lutte indépendantiste. Il est vrai que la reconstitution de cette histoire s’arrête en quelque sorte au début des années 1990 avec l’élimination par les Tigres de la plupart des groupes rivaux. Le film n’évoque pratiquement pas les années 1995 à 2009, qui ont vu le repli des Tigres vers le réduit de la région de Wanni après cinq ans de domination absolue de Jaffna, la militarisation de la société tamoule et la tragédie finale qu’a été de janvier à mai 2009, l’extermination par l’armée sri-lankaise des combattants Tigres et de ceux qui les avaient suivis, puis l’enfermement durant deux ans dans des camps de rétention de près de 300.000 civils. Il ne montre pas les exactions de la police ni l’armée sri lankaise, et en sont absents les moines bouddhistes extrémistes qui s’affichent aujourd’hui contre les musulmans de l’île après s’être opposés à toute concession aux revendications tamoules. L’absence de ces images ne permet donc pas de comprendre les blessures inguérissables et le ressentiment durable des Tamouls, en particulier en diaspora.
Le film ne montre pas non plus les attentats suicides perpétrés par les Tigres à Colombo, notamment par des jeunes femmes, après 1995, et la souffrance des civils du Sud touchés par leurs méthodes de terreur : l’attitude belliciste de la majorité de la population cingalaise peut donc échapper à la compréhension du spectateur.

Au fond, le propos du cinéaste n’était pas de produire un documentaire détaché prétendant à l’objectivité, mais plutôt de proposer le témoignage intime d’un douloureux travail de mémoire, et une réflexion indispensable, mais difficile, sur les dérives de l’action militante. Comme il le suggère en expliquant avoir donné à son fils un nom tamoul qui évoque le troisième œil du dieu Shiva, il ambitionne de voir plus loin, au delà des apparences.

Dans le corpus des films et des écrits récents ayant pour thème la guerre civile sri-lankaise et l’exode qui s’en est suivi, Demons in Paradise occupe une place à part. Comme Ini Avan d’Asoka Handagama (2012) il met en scène le retour à Jaffna d’acteurs du conflit, mais vu de l’intérieur et non de l’extérieur, sous forme de témoignage direct et non dans le cadre d’une fiction. Il ne s’agit pas non plus d’un film sur le traumatisme de l’exil comme le très médiatisé Dheepan de Jacques Audiard (2015), ou les plus authentiques et subtils films de Pradeepan Raveendran (Shadows of Silence, 2010, en attendant la sortie prévue en 2018 de Soundless Dance), ou encore les remarquables œuvres romanesques de Shobasakthi (l’acteur de Dheepan), dont un choix de nouvelles vient de paraître en traduction française (Friday et Friday, Paris, éditions Zulma, avril 2018). En revanche Demons in Paradise fait écho à l’ouvrage profond de l’anthropologue Sharika Thiranagama (fille d’une militante tamoule assassinée par les Tigres en 1989), paru à Philadelphie en 2011 sous le titre In my Mother’s House, ainsi qu’à l’article qu’elle a consacré au chemin de fer de Jaffna publié en 2012 dans la revue Modern Asian Studes sous le titre : « A Railway to the Moon »

“Friday et Friday” de Antonythasan Jesuthasan alias Shobasakthi, en librairie à partir du 5 avril 2018

 

“Friday et Friday” de Antonythasan Jesuthasan alias Shobasakthi.

Nouvelles traduites du tamoul (Sri Lanka) par Faustine Imbert-Vier,

Élisabeth Sethupathy, et Farhaan Wahab

Une enfance à Allaipiddy, au nord de Sri Lanka, la guérilla tamoule, l’errance, l’exil en France… Autant de motifs et de personnages qui habitent l’œuvre d’Antonythasan Jesuthasan : Diana la Ronde, pétrifiée par le bruit des bombes, qui remue ciel et terre pour obtenir son abri ; Pratheeban, le demandeur d’asile, floué pour une poignée de kilomètres ; les 37 Mouvements de rébellion, bien décidés à se tailler la part du lion ; Layla, la petite dame du numéro 7, que son nom de code – Oiseau jaune – finit par trahir, ou encore le chevalier de Kandi, condamné à devenir un coq en pâte aux frais du Comité central.
À travers tous ces portraits, c’est aussi celui du narrateur qui se dessine, tout en humour et en finesse – le roman d’une vie, le miroir d’une âme et d’un peuple qui sait que c’est parfois en perdant de vue le rivage que le cœur se remet à flot.

A propos de l’auteur

Si l’on connaît son visage grâce au superbe Dheepan de Jacques Audiard (Palme d’or à Cannes en 2015) dont il est l’acteur principal, Antonythasan Jesuthasan est surtout écrivain reconnu – auteur de quatre romans, plusieurs recueils de nouvelles et de nombreux essais, pièces de théâtre et scénarios.

Antonythasan Jesuthasan – alias Shobasakthi – est né en 1967 à Allaipiddy, un village à l’extrême nord de Sri Lanka. Ancien enfant soldat du Mouvement de libération des Tigres tamouls, il arrive en France en 1993 où il obtient l’asile politique. Il vit désormais à Paris.

Son œuvre est traduite pour la première fois en français. L’adaptation cinématographique de la magnifique nouvelle Friday, qui se déroule dans la communauté tamoule du quartier de la Chapelle, à Paris, est en cours de réalisation.

Le dossier de presse du livre est accessible à travers ce lien : dossier_presse-572162dp-mars-18pdf

Une première revue du livre a été rédigé par Véronique-Atasi et peut-être lu sur son blog atasi.over-blog.com

Pour plus d’information, vous pouvez consulter le site de la maison d’édition Zulma qui a publié Friday and Friday.

“Sri Lanka to host conference on Tamil culture” The Hindu

The International Movement of Tamil Culture (Sri Lanka chapter) in association with the University of Jaffna will be holding a two-day special conference on ‘Challenges and Initiatives of Tamil Language and Culture’ at the University premises on August 5 and 6.

to read more : http://www.thehindu.com/news/cities/puducherry/sri-lanka-to-host-conference-on-tamil-culture/article19392300.ece

The Launch of the Journal “City” a quarterly magazine of South Asian literature

The International Centre for Ethnic Studies (ICES) cordially invites to the launch of the journal  “City” a quarterly magazine  of South Asian literature at the ICES Auditorium , 2, Kynsey Terrace, Colombo 8 on Tuesday, July 11 at 4:30 pm . CITY a literary journal  in English, exploring the contemporary creative field in South Asia  in its many languages and styles.  In the new version of CITY (June 2017),  special section is dedicated to contemporary Sri Lankan writing in Sinhala, Tamil and English.

see : City Journal