By Sharmila Gamlath - From Colombo Telegraph
My father, late Professor Sucharita Gamlath was one of the
most prolific scholars of his time. During his lifetime, he continuously
demonstrated his acumen in a range of fields, fulfilling the roles of author,
teacher, literary critic, linguist, and political activist contemporaneously.
He certainly needs no introduction among the general public of Sri Lanka. Since
his demise on the 30th of March 2013, there have been many eloquent accounts of
his contributions to the fields of Sinhala language and literature, literary
criticism and political views. However, on the eve of his second death
anniversary, I thought it would be apt to supply an insider’s account of his
life to the large number of Sri Lankan whose lives he enriched with his work.
An obvious question that may emerge is why I did not write
such a memoir as soon as he passed away or, at least, why I did not write one
last year, in conjunction with his first death anniversary. In fact, several
friends and family members did urge me to write an appreciation about him
earlier. However, during a couple of previous attempts, I had tremendous
difficulty dealing with the myriad of emotions that crossed my mind. Recently,
when I spoke to a friend about this state of haziness I was experiencing, he
reassured me that it is only human to feel that way. So I decided that was best
to wait patiently till I was emotionally prepared to get down to this task. Now
I am.
Sucharita Gamlath’s work ethic
It is worth pondering over what motivated my father to work
so hard. I feel now that it was pure passion, the urge to keep utilizing his
brilliance for as long as he could. The expected monetary payoff associated
with his work was not a critical source of motivation for him. It makes me feel
that scholars produce their greatest works when they engage in their activities
with the sole intention of producing an outcome which challenges them, rather
than treating a scholarly work like a pail of milk which can be sold and many
things bought with the money. Engaging in scholarly work simply for extrinsic
gains such as monetary rewards, career progress and recognition could sometimes
negatively affect the quality of one’s work. The selfless gratification he got
from engaging in his work was probably the magic formula for my father’s
literacy success.
My father derived the greatest happiness from writing
tirelessly. Usually, he organized his working day into three parts: he would
generally get some writing -and perhaps reading- done before breakfast. After
than he would sit at his writing table till lunch. After than he had a long
nap, and after evening tea, he would go back to his writing and only stop at
about 9.30pm.
The energy he displayed was truly extraordinary. He would
sit at his table for hours on end, writing in his calligraphic hand. Rarely
would he cross out a word. Spending a lot of time thinking about what he wanted
to write and correcting and editing his sentences many a time was not good
enough for my father. He had the rare ability to form a crystal clear sentence
in his head and pen it down in impeccable language promptly.
Spending much of one’s day reading and writing demands a
great deal of discipline. It also requires a person to be free of the many
other household responsibilities that a person typically has to shoulder such
as shopping, cooking, child-caring, etc… Hence, I cannot personally help
thinking that such a work ethic would primarily be restricted to men. Within
our household too, my father was able to engage in his work undisturbed because
he did not have to worry about these mundane duties.
Political ideology
All his life, my father was a faithful ally of the
hardworking proletariats of Sri Lanka. As he was born in a remote village
beneath Adam’s Peak, he was well aware of the hardships villagers in our
country confronted. It was without doubt these humble beginnings that created
in him a sensitivity to develop a lasting bond with the working class of our
country and be an active supporter of their struggle for emancipation from the
bonds of capitalism.
While I did not always connect with my father’s stalwart
Marxist ideas, I nevertheless respected his political views. He was a strong
advocate of the right to self-determination of minority groups. Having seen
with his own eyes the atrocities committed against the Tamils of the North
during his tenure as the Dean of the Faculty of Humanities at the University of
Jaffna, he steadfastly opposed the marginalization faced by ethnic minorities
by the JR Jayawardene regime. In simple terms, his view was that being a
Sinhalese Buddhist did not give an individual the right to superiority.
His opinions regarding the ethnic question were often
misinterpreted and resented by chauvinists hiding behind the veil of mock
patriotism, blinded by their ambition to attain a state of supremacy and rule
over minorities with an iron fist. It was this duplicitous stance my father
firmly opposed. He believed that every Sri Lankan, regardless of his origins
should have the right to live in our country free of fear and repression.
Having seen the manner in which our Tamil brethren were crushed by selfish,
greedy politicians repeatedly, he, like a true people-centred intellectual,
lost faith in the political system completely. In his view, the ideal solution
to this state of affairs was the establishing of an egalitarian socialist state
within which all Sri Lankans could live in dignity.
He also believed that language could act as a powerful
driver of ethnic harmony. To this end, he proposed that all Sri Lankans should
acquire a good command of English, regardless of whether their mother tongue
was Sinhala or Tamil. Hence, English would become a medium through which people
from all ethnicities could communicate with each other effectively, thereby
minimizing the possibility of ethnic disharmony. Although my father and his
close friend Professor Karthigesu Sivathamby tried to work on an
English-Sinhala-Tamil dictionary to further this noble cause, they received
scant support from the authorities for this task, and both these great men left
this world with their hopes unfulfilled.
Had he been alive, he would have been overjoyed by how our
Muslim and Tamil brethren used their suffrage boldly to overthrow a tyrannical
regime at the presidential election in January. On the other hand, he would
have been harshly critical of the new government’s fragile stance regarding a
range of issues as well. As he never pledged his support for any political
party, my father was able to maintain his autonomy at all times. Firmly
grounded on his belief that mainstream political parties never worked in the
best interests of the common man, he possessed the courage to criticize the
actions of successive governments openly.
Unemployment: was it a source of disillusionment or an
opportunity to achieve the pinnacle of literacy success?
When a person wages war against the extant political system
with his pen, the fine line between bravery and recklessness could sometimes
get blurred. In my father’s case, as a consequence of expressing his candid
views on the actions of the UNP regime of the 1980s, he had to suffer 14 long
years of unemployment. Drawing a parallel with the Ramayana, I like to refer to
these 14 years as the period he spent in ‘exile.’ Alas, my father was no
immortal. Thus, like any other ordinary man, this unlawful act of vengeance may
have left him feeling embittered, resentful, and emotionally shattered. After
my father’s death, in the appreciation written to the Ravaya by Hon Ranil
Wickremesinghe, who was then the Leader of the Opposition, Mr Wickremesinghe
stated that on several occasions, he had publicly and in person apologized to
my father for the injustice he faced at the hands of the UNP regime of
yesteryear. Yet no apology can turn back time or make amends for the wrongs my
father faced. There is no bitterness in this reflection; yet I feel an irreversible
sense of disenchantment when I think about how much agony my father may have
undergone during those long years.
Despite the obvious emotional distress he is sure to have
felt, in front of his family, as well as the rest of the world, he maintained a
fierce air of defiance, and valiantly tried to look for that tiny silver lining
in the dark cloud. When a despotic regime forces an intellectual into
unemployment, their underlying expectation is that economic deprivation would
force him to quit his literary endeavours. Yet, nothing could shake his iron
resolve to convert this turn of events into a blessing in disguise. Undeterred
by financial hardships, he completed his best literary works during these long
years of unemployment. This was his response to the injustice he faced- an
approach to retaliation befitting a scholar par excellence.
Despite being reinstated in his job when HE Chandrika
Bandaranaike Kumaratunge assumed office in 1994, he was deeply disgruntled with
the changes that had occurred within the university system in his absence,
almost entirely for the worse. Among other things, the gross politicization of
the higher education sector and the shocking decline in academic standards
created a deep sense of discontentment in him, and he went into retirement with
a genuine fear for the future of the children of our country.
I must also mention that my father never received any
compensation for being unlawfully ousted from his job. His great friend Mr Ran
Banda Senevirathne represented him in a lawsuit demanding the earnings he lost
due to unemployment, but the trial came to an abrupt end due to a mere
technicality. Yet never did my father despair. After all he had gone through,
losing the lawsuit was just a very trivial incident for him. In fact, he was
never very enthusiastic about litigation in relation to his expulsion. This is
evident from one of his famous statements, which was,”Places like courts and
police stations are capitalist organizations that have been created to waste
people’s precious time.”
Sucharita Gamlath’s naivety
His general reluctance to seek justice resulted in my father
being played out by swindlers on numerous occasions. For some greedy sharks, my
father was nothing but a gold mine. They cheated him in numerous innovative
ways over time. They lied to him about the number of books authored by him that
were printed, they did not pay him the royalties that he was entitled to, and
they made illegal copies of his books and sold them clandestinely.
Worst of all, we have now found out that with absolutely no
respect for his intellectual property, entire sections of books he authored
have been plagiarized. It is quite ironical that at present such crooks who
have stolen my father’s intellectual property in broad daylight are hawking
their wares within the new “good governance” regime, portraying themselves as
white knights bent on ridding our land of all vices. Good governance per se is
a much needed political paradigm. However, it is exceedingly hard to believe
that such charlatans, who cannot even respect the intellectual property rights
of a scholar, and for that matter a dead one, would contribute towards this
endeavour selflessly.
His legacy
My father played a pivotal role in developing the literary,
cultural and political sensitivity of the general public in Sri Lanka.
Enchanted by his unique writing style, people flocked to buy the newspapers to
which he contributed as a columnist. He was able to reach the hearts of people
from all walks of life with his words. The accolades the public poured upon him
meant so much for him, and the positive feedback he received gave him the
vigour to continue his work until he was defeated by cancer.
He also passed on his passion for excellence to a large
number of students. The brilliant pieces of writing by his students that appear
in newspapers and social media sometimes only bear testimony to what a
brilliant teacher he was. I believe teaching was an inborn talent he was
endowed with. An elderly lady once said that when she was a student at the
University of Peradeniya, even though she did not study the subject my father
taught, she and her friends sat through all his lectures, hanging onto every
word he said. According to her, they had to always arrive in the lecture
theatre a couple of hours in advance to find a seat, as scores of students who
were not enrolled in the subject attended his lecture, enthralled by his
brilliant delivery of the subject matter as well as his good looks!
My father always believed that a good citizen should earn
his living through honest means and maintain the utmost degree of integrity in
his actions. I am confident that he was pleased that his children followed the
way of life he advocated. What is even more wonderful is the fact that he
inspired many Sri Lankans with his scholarly contributions. Even though he is
not among us anymore, his words will always reside within the pages of his
literary works.
