A day when darkness broke and light arose…..

A day when darkness broke and light arose…..

Kili, kili, kili ….
Those voices that rose high with excitement welcomed us at the crossroads of Karipattamuripu.

The fifth day of the third wave of the operation “Oyaatha Alaikal”. On November 7th, our feet are stepping on the Karipattamuripu that was recovered from the enemy. These are the days that filled our hearts, which had been carrying pain for a long time, with joy, fulfillment, and courage. Our land is again in our hands as a testimony that our hands were raised to win forever with the determination that we will never fall again. A scene of a field where the war had ended, with the signs of the destroyed occupation, the ruined guard posts, the broken barbed wire fences.

It was the land where a couple of days ago, the enemy lay dead with no way to run, with the roar of shells and gunshots. There, on the bend that turned left from the junction of the road towards Mangulam, female fighters were playing tachi.

It was an evening when the sun was setting in the sky with light drizzles. The threads of a silent field that the environment had left in my mind were slowly torn apart by the enthusiasm of these young people.

“Hello, sister” Those little mouths of the female fighter who had come with me and blossomed with enthusiasm.

These are the ones who paid the price of their sweat and tears for the victory that the whole world is amazed by.

Beyond the boundaries of pride about that victory that was theirs…my heart wanted to hold the tiring hands of those young fighters of the nation smiling with their natural childishness in my eyes.

With the permission of the team leader who was there to guide them, we started walking through the scattered enemy camp. Signs of displacement, such as scattered military equipment, clothes, shoes, notebooks, and cooking utensils, reminded us of those who had been here until a few days ago. Signs of survival were visible in the trees, the ground, and even the air, buried in the strangeness. The air was heavy as if no humans lived there. The buildings covered in bushes and grass were the habitats of people who had disappeared without a trace. The soul of that village, which was full of life and prosperity until two years ago, was lost and covered in empty darkness. The voices and movements of the fighters, who were tearing up the great silence of the environment and moving the environment towards nature, confirmed our presence on that recovered land.

The fighters were engaged in cooking dinner in an area adjacent to the camp’s storage room. We no longer had any problems. They laughed.

White samba rice and dried fish were boiling in the stove. They made us sit down and entertained us happily. That characteristic of hospitality that did not change no matter the place made them even higher in my opinion.

They were more interested in knowing the satisfaction and mood of the people than their joy over the awe-inspiring victory of the three “Oyaatha Alaikal”. Those minds were satisfied with the fact that their people were walking down the streets with smiles on their faces and walking towards the battlefield with the joy that had grown wings on their feet, forgetting the burdens of their life and enjoying themselves.

They spoke proudly of the leader who had given them the conditions for this fight. With a fire burning in our hearts, we were waiting for the day when we would tell him the fullness of our strength. Our brother had given us a very beautiful field and time in our hands. We have achieved today by mentioning the names of our young fighters we lost that day in Ambagamam. As we advanced past the guard posts that stood there with unshakable arrogance, the leader of a team said with emotion that words could not express the fullness of the feeling that arose in our hearts.

From the day the guard posts began to open and close until yesterday’s fight, when her legs were tired from chasing the enemy, she was struggling with the fatigue and pain of her body, which was exhausted by the relentless work, and she was talking for a few minutes, stretching out her arms and throwing them to sleep. It saddened me to think that it was only after enduring all this pain that they were fighting for us for so many years without losing their determination. Another fighter talked about her move to attack a camp in Ottusuddan.

The enemy’s move in the middle of the night, when darkness had fallen, was so dark that it was impossible to move forward or guess the direction we were heading, the ground, the trees, and even the sky were bathed in darkness and covered themselves with darkness. We walked tightly holding the waist belts of those who were in front so that the direction of movement would not change, she said, closing her eyes what she remembered from the beginning of the fight without breathing. As the main fighter of a fighting team, with good upbringing, beauty, and determination, only her speech, which was still childish, was visible. The way she pronounced darkness made us admire. One of their commanders spoke with great pride about a female fighter who sacrificed her life by throwing herself on her heavy weapon in this fight.

Coming from our lives where life is defined within four lines and social constraints are seen as ornaments, only these people can put themselves aside and live in a way that makes our hearts overflow for the future of the nation.

Will time write the hearts and feelings of these wonderful people who have blossomed and risen completely away from our practical lives that we have defined?

Will the words they express, even if they are words, be captured in the hands of time?

Victory does not come to us as a gift from the sky at dawn, but behind it lies a long history of pain, tears and blood. The time for our victories begins with the painful moments that the bodies and minds of the fighters who have forgotten the feelings of their bodies in the guardhouses and have withered in the rain, snow, and sun, and the fighters who have overcome the fears of their natural minds and surrendered to death, and the fighters who are still training and training for another fight. The days of joy of today’s victory have emerged after the days of their pain.

When the question arises whether the shoulders will still be raised to share the burdens of these people who are traveling with unwavering determination and dedication in the river of fire called the war of liberation, the faces of the border fighters who were walking and riding in vehicles and reviving the liberated cities, and the people who are roaming the streets with their search for their duty for this time, come to mind.

History never writes its verdict by forgetting the sorrow of the true fighters – we remember this and we said goodbye to them on that dark and cold morning,

– Tharani
– Erimalai November 2000
Edited by: Tamilarasan Abdulkadhar

(Translation by Kaanagan)