{"id":25757,"date":"2013-09-15T00:20:17","date_gmt":"2013-09-15T04:20:17","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/dbsjeyaraj.com\/dbsj\/?p=25757"},"modified":"2013-09-15T22:05:50","modified_gmt":"2013-09-16T02:05:50","slug":"an-ode-to-a-crusadera-humanist-and-a-nightingale-celebrating-the-life-of-sunila-abeysekera","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/dbsjeyaraj.com\/dbsj\/?p=25757","title":{"rendered":"“An Ode to a Crusader, a Humanist and a Nightingale………. Celebrating the Life of Sunila Abeysekera"},"content":{"rendered":"


\nBy <\/p>\n

Vishnuguptha<\/strong><\/p>\n

\"20130915-220350.jpg\"<\/a><\/p>\n

“Up the hill-side; and now ’tis buried deep
\nIn the next valley-glades:
\nWas it a vision, or a waking dream?
\nFled is that music:\u2014do I wake or sleep?”<\/em> ~ John Keats\u2013 Ode to a Nightingale<\/strong><\/p>\n

Death is the greatest equalizer that ever paraded among mankind. With its enormous power and in the most unpredictable way it visits upon every human being with no prejudice or partiality. Its final blow extinguishes the most promising flames; it could still the most eloquent orators at the height of their oratory, it could put a halt to a forward-march of an expectant people in the most ominous way and it could kill a nation\u2019s hopes and dreams of youth.<\/p>\n

When death\u2019s mysterious ways are hastened by the accompaniment of an inauspicious accomplice such as a malignant tumor which is commonly called cancer, the effects are even more expressive than words could ever describe. No orator, from Cicero of ancient Rome to Jawaharlal Nehru and Martin Luther King Jr. of the modern day world, has done justice to the agony and sorrow that death leaves behind; no poet from Chaucer to Rossetti has penned sufficiently poignant contemplations to fill the vacuums of departure and depths of death.<\/p>\n

Sunila Abeysekera was visited upon by that \u2018agent of death\u2019- cancer- several years ago and it departed with her leaving only her mortal remains on the afternoon hours of the ninth day of the ninth month of the year Two Thousand and Thirteen, sixty one years after she walked into this word from her mother\u2019s womb.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

So, instead of bemoaning her death, let\u2019s celebrate her life. Rarely has been a man or woman so gifted with the rarest of qualities as Sunila was. She was a gifted singer and was trained by Maestro Premasiri Khemadasa. Her participation along with Sunethra Sarachchandra at many symphony orchestras conducted by the Maestro such as \u201cMother of my Time\u201d, enhanced the overall eminence of the symphony and lent a more sensitive timber to the hauntingly beautiful melodies and refrains played by the instruments of the orchestra.<\/p>\n

The sensitivity she showed in the rendering of her voice to the memorable songs such as \u201cHanduna Gaththoth Oba Maa\u201d in \u201cBambaru Avith\u201d and \u201cHimin Sere\u201d in \u201cHansa Vilak\u201d are still echoing in the corridors of listening pleasures of many. A delicately rich voice with the appropriate sensuality and sophisticated luster is ringing in our bereaved hearts yet leaving behind a generous thought that we are extremely fortunate to have had the good fortune to hear it to the full in our own lifetime.<\/p>\n

An accomplished stage actress, Sunila\u2019s performance in \u201cAngara Ganga Gala Basee\u201d could hardly be bettered or matched by any contemporary artist. Her appearances on the silver screen were rare but the potential for acting prowess was manifest when she appeared as a mischievous and inquisitive adolescent in \u201cDelovak Athara\u201d, of Lester James Peiris, another Master worthy of special mention.<\/p>\n

When Sunila matured, her horizons expanded much beyond the drama-stage and could not be restrained within celluloid frames. Her scope of work embraced the helpless children without their mothers and her span of attention captured the grief of wailing widows and a whole new frontier opened before her and she strode into it without any fear or hesitancy. As a supremely self-confident \u2018woman\u2019 she entered into a territory where no \u2018man\u2019 had gone before.<\/p>\n

Campaigns for Human rights, women\u2019s rights, freedom of expression and movement, free media and helping the helpless, carried out not in the superficial way in which most of today\u2019s politicians and NGOs manipulate their heavily-budgeted programs but in a real expressive manner, became her second nature and obsession. Her entry into the \u2018romanticist age\u2019 of JVP politics along with the legendary Nandana Marasinghe\u2019s initiative, paved the way for the production of \u201cVimukti Gee\u201d musical presentations at JVP rallies in the early eighties. While one does not have to agree with her politics at that time, one cannot take away her commitment and dedication to a \u2018cause\u2019, whatever the cause might have been and could be hardly matched by any man or woman who walked the swerving path of politics at any time in post-independent Sri Lanka.<\/p>\n

But after her disillusionment with the JVP in the late eighties, she threw in her lot with the alternate media and human rights agitational programs, a venture in which the current President was very much an integral part of- for him it was more for political expediency rather than a sincere commitment to the cause as is evident in what his government machinery is betrothed to- and worked twenty five hours a day, sparing no effort to pacify a grieving mother or an orphaned child.<\/p>\n

Although she changed course during this time, her sense of adventurism never left her repertoire; she never ever hesitated to lend a helping hand to an alienated activist, cornered by enemies and hounded my authorities and she stood out as a brave \u2018man\u2019 among men.<\/p>\n

However, during the final stages of the Northern war, she came up against a much maligned campaign of harsh criticism and terror and in fact was forced to leave the shores of her land of birth and work. Her life was threatened and her children\u2019s lives were in danger and in that chaotic human circumstance, cruelty of fate too struck in the unkindest way. Breast Cancer is a much feared ailment in today\u2019s world and it did not spare this indomitable woman.<\/p>\n

Though battered by a terminal illness, Sunila\u2019s spirit could not be battered nor could it be dulled by the monotonous routine of daily schedules of work. On the contrary, her energies were rejuvenated and whenever her health permitted, she took part in many an event which provided a ready platform for social causes with emphasis on women. At these functions one could observe many women from all walks of life, from remote villages and nearby shanties, from sophisticated families and the very ordinary, standing in line and thanking her for her efforts to find a missing son or a daughter gone astray for disappearances of children, men and women were in the daily menu that she used to read at her dining table and she authored many op-eds in international media, for the local media was too afraid to tell the whole truth or face it at all.<\/p>\n

In a country and at a time when values are expressed in rupees and dollars, the contributions that Sunila rendered were priceless. The authorities that could not stomach her commitment to and single-minded pursuit after truth and honesty let loose their hound-dogs on her. She had no alternative but to leave the shores and seek refuge in safer lands. Yet with the worsening of her health condition, she came back home and breathed her last at a Colombo hospital while receiving treatment for her deadly ailment. Life was just taken away from her when her energies were still focused on the basics of human life on the planet.<\/p>\n

The international accolades that she were bestowed upon with were mere cosmetics in comparison to the untold stories that jeweled her charming and simple persona that widowed mothers can tell and orphaned children of war could relate. A woman in a world of men, her spine was made of tempered steel and her heart was of sweet and soft genre while those who hounded her would buckle under the least of pressure.<\/p>\n

The complexity of the issue did not bother her; simplicity of a problem never put her in a comfort zone, she endeavored all the time to attain excellence in her work and in her relationships.<\/p>\n

Once again, I am reminded about Keats\u2019 \u2018Ode to a Nightingale\u2019:<\/p>\n

\u201cThou wast not born for death, immortal Bird!
\nNo hungry generations tread thee down;\u201d\t<\/strong><\/p>\n

A personification of self-assuredness, which Sunila was and one of my colleagues described her best thus: \u201cYes, she deserved to go without so much pain. I can\u2019t imagine her being history because to me, she is also the future.\u201d
\n<\/em><\/p>\n

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By Vishnuguptha “Up the hill-side; and now ’tis buried deep In the next valley-glades: Was it a vision, or a waking dream? Fled is that music:\u2014do I wake or sleep?” ~ John Keats\u2013 Ode to a Nightingale Death is the greatest equalizer that ever paraded among mankind. With its enormous power and in the most …<\/p>\n

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