It was 21 September 2006. There was silence in the morning air but a whole lot of expectations were flying around. What a mood to have on International Day of Peace! I couldn’t understand the language of my own mind. The last time I had butterflies in my stomach was during my first job interview.
I sat by the window to meditate at 4 a.m. and opened my eyes an hour later on hearing Buddhist temple chants coming from afar.
Gurudev was walking in the courtyard and suddenly stopped to look at the sky. I quietly went and stood behind him when he turned and asked, ‘Are we ready to leave?’
‘In a few minutes,’ I replied as he sat on a garden bench and lightly caressed the grass with his feet. I quickly rushed to the kitchen, picked up the lunch basket, placed it in the boot of the car and then ran up to inform him that everything was ready for the trip.
He boarded the car, followed by Swamiji, Anandam and Harish, one of our senior Art of Living teachers. I wished them well as I waved to them.
They left to take a flight from Ratmalana airport to Anuradhapura air force base, and from there by helicopter to Omanthai which bordered Kilinochchi, the LTTE’s most prized capital.
As they landed in Omanthai town, the air seemed toxic with fear, anxiety and mistrust writ large on people’s faces. The drums of war and bugles of fire were sharp and shrill in the collective psyche of its people.
A Sri Lankan government vehicle picked up Gurudev, Swamiji, Anandam and Harish from the helipad and passed through its famous Omanthai army checkpoint on the A9 highway.
For several decades, thousands of people had to stand in serpentine queues and go through stringent security checks while crossing from the LTTE side into government-held territory. This was to prevent LTTE operatives from infiltrating into Lankan territory.
This place was steeped in history. During the earlier phases of the twenty-six-year war, this checkpoint was apparently the place where the bodies of the cadres or soldiers were handed over to their respective sides.
The abundance of palmyra trees was a common sight in this landscape, spanning the northern parts of Sri Lanka. Both sides extensively used the tree’s bark as poles and its spiked leaves stitched together as a wall to protect their respective military camps from prying eyes. This checkpoint too seemed ‘palmyrized’.
The war had badly hit farming and agriculture in the border villages here, with several hectares of land rendered ‘unusable’ for various reasons.
Beyond this place was a place commonly referred to as ‘no man’s land’.
This stretch was carpeted with landmines and served as an entrance to the LTTE-controlled territory. This barren patch served as a ‘buffer zone’ between the Sri Lankan government and LTTE areas.
As they reached the beginning of ‘no man’s land’, Gurudev, Swamiji, Anandam and Harish saw a small cabin run by the United Nations (UN), which acted as a neutral party and monitoring agency.
The government vehicle stopped here and the accompanying official told Gurudev that they couldn’t go further as it was outside the jurisdiction of the Sri Lankan government. Therefore, Gurudev and the others had to walk from there and whatever happened beyond this point was not the responsibility of the government.
Meanwhile, a UN official stepped out and greeted Gurudev saying, ‘We are yet to get permission from the LTTE side. Please wait until then.’
Swamiji told him, ‘We already have the permission.’
The official replied, ‘But I have no message from them … I coordinate all movements on this stretch here.’
Anandam frantically worked the phones to speak to a few people. He was the one who had coordinated and confirmed the appointment in consultation with the top LTTE leadership. Exasperated, he told the person on the other end of the phone, ‘What’s happening … We are waiting at the UN checkpost. They say there’s no approval. How can you do this?’
Meanwhile, Gurudev engaged in a chat with the official, who pointed out to a place towards the LTTE side, just a few hundred metres ahead. ‘A cow went on this road yesterday, when a landmine blew up and it died on the spot,’ he added.
Gurudev continued to listen to him, while the others looked at each other and perhaps wondered how they would cross that deadly stretch of the dirt road.
The official added with great concern, ‘They [the LTTE] have planted landmines all over, recruited children as soldiers. Tough life here. It’s no man’s land. No man’s responsibility, except mine!’
The LTTE made them wait for over an hour.
All that they could see were patches of dry land with weeds on either side of the dirt road towards the LTTE checkpost. It looked like no one had grown a single grain there, with landmines replacing them. It is estimated that over the years several hundreds of landmines were planted by the LTTE in various parts of the north and the east.
Vikram was waiting in his car on the LTTE side. Three days earlier, I had sent him from Colombo to Kilinochchi with all the relevant papers. He was to drive Gurudev to the venue of the meeting with Prabhakaran.
After a while, a white flag was waved as a sign of approval for the delegation to walk across the ‘no man’s land’. As Gurudev began to lead the group, Harish recollected what the UN official had said about the cow. He seemed worried now.
Without batting an eyelid, Gurudev told everyone, ‘Just follow my footsteps.’
The 700-metre distance took a little longer than it should have, as they walked gingerly. Every step and breath they took left them alternating between relief and caution. It was like walking a tightrope on solid ground.
One by one they walked behind Gurudev, setting their feet on the footprints he left in the soil.
Occasionally, they would see someone who looked like a teenager peeping through a small opening in the massive iron gates of the LTTE checkpost.
As beads of sweat flowed down their brows, Harish and Anandam carried the lunch basket, a box of fruits and token gifts from India.
There was an eerie silence and no sign of life, except for a few crows crowing. Suddenly, there was a loud boom. The three of them froze in fear but Gurudev continued walking. There was gunfire somewhere in the distance.
Gurudev turned and glanced at them. Placing their deep trust in him, they began to walk behind him once again.
As they reached the massive iron gates, Harish exclaimed, ‘This felt like walking through eternity.’
A lanky boy in his teens, who was struggling to hold a large gun in his hands, opened the heavy gates with a lot of effort.
They quickly got into Vikram’s car and drove over the dirt roads. Deep brown mud blew with gusty winds from time to time as they entered Kilinochchi town.
***
Though clouds of war were fast approaching, a near-normal life was visible with LTTE cadres milling around at certain points of Kilinochchi town.
It was interesting to note that for many years the LTTE had established its very own Tamil Eelam court of law, police stations, banks, etc., in places under its control, like any other independent nation.
They operated like ‘a state’ within a state!
A youth on a motorcycle led the car through what looked like the interiors of Kilinochchi. A few thatched huts interspersed with banana trees and hibiscus plants were a relief to the eyes. These plants were an intrinsic part of their day-to-day lives.
A second man on a bike joined them at a junction. He drove alongside the car and told Vikram, the driver, in a loud voice, ‘You will only follow us and not stop the car anywhere. No photographs or videos. Tell this to everyone in your vehicle. Most importantly, switch off your phones.’
Vikram nodded in agreement.
Finally, they reached a house with a red-tiled roof, where three men and a woman in LTTE uniforms waited at the entrance.
This excerpt from Swami Virupaksha’s The Tiger’s Pause: The Untold Story of Gurudev Sri Sri Ravi Shankar’s Peace Efforts in Sri Lanka has been published with the permission of Penguin Random House.
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