A Flashback of today’s event – Kakka Annai (1992)
A Flashback of today’s event – Kakka Annai (1992)
– Velicham Magazine
I was looking for a rare photograph for the back cover of the first volume of the *Viluthugal* (Roots) article collection. It was a photograph taken during the period when negotiations were underway between the Sri Lankan government and us. An agreement had been reached that Sri Lankan army personnel should not move outside their camp without our permission during the talks. In violation of this, Sri Lankan army troops from the Yarlpanam Fort camp had advanced as far as the Yarlpanam Kachcheri (Government Agent’s office). Upon seeing this, Antony rushed towards them. He intercepted them and warned them in Sinhala to turn back. While blocking their path by placing his foot on their vehicle and aiming his M-16 rifle at them, he issued the warning. Someone captured this scene in a photograph. Many had seen it, but its whereabouts were unknown. After inquiring about all the places Antony used to frequent, I visited Thiyas’s home again and explained the situation.
Our conversation about Antony continued there. During the discussion, they recalled that one of Antony’s sisters had married Kirubakaran. Kirubakaran was a member of the EPRLF and had served as the finance minister for the North-East. He is no longer alive.
The mention of Kirubakaran recalled the meetings that had taken place between him and me in Mattacalappu – particularly the interesting episode involving the funeral procession.
This was in the early part of 1985. At that time, the EPRLF’s main headquarters was located at Muthalaikkuda in the Kokkatticholai area (Paduvankarai). I had to visit them frequently – always to discuss the troubles caused to us by members of the EPRLF. During the time I was there, not once did they complain to us that our members had caused them any trouble. It became a recurring routine. I would visit often, and Kirubakaran and the others would reply, “Comrade, this won’t happen again. It’s just a few comrades who lack understanding – the rest are clear-headed.” Yet, like the legendary King Vikramathitya’s ceaseless efforts, I found myself repeatedly having to approach them regarding this matter.
One morning, I traveled from Arayampathy, crossed the river via Manmunaithurai, and headed to Paduvankarai. There, a man named Gunam, who belonged to the EPRLF, approached me. “Comrade,” he said, “last night, they robbed the ‘prawn company.’ They came by river, stole the welding plant, cables, and some other equipment, and then escaped back along the river. The struggling locals in this area rely on this company for work, but it looks like they are trying to force it to close. And when they robbed the place, they also beat up the workers – and even verbally abused them. What kind of movement are they? Do you know anything about this, comrade?”
At that time, a foreign company called ‘Serendib’ had established a massive prawn farm there with the help of some locals. Hundreds of workers were employed there, and a white man was in charge of the operations. It was usually the members of the Tamileelam Security Council who raided that shrimp farm. Even if they didn’t take cash, they would make off with petrol, diesel, or even vehicles – though they would eventually return the vehicles. Whenever I questioned this, they would spout all sorts of international theories – claiming it was an American company, a capitalist enterprise, and arguing that there was nothing wrong with using its assets for a revolutionary struggle. Amidst their rhetoric, the only thing I gathered about was that the countries they referenced were communist aligned. Beyond that, I didn’t understand much. I would simply nod as if I grasped it all and walked away. I knew that while they certainly engaged in looting, they never physically assaulted the workers.
So, I told Gunam, “This isn’t the Security Council, and it wouldn’t be EROS either. I suspect it’s PLOTE, because they are the ones who tend to beat people up unnecessarily. Otherwise, you can’t really identify the group just by the profanity they use.” He replied, “You’re right, comrade. It must be them. Regardless, this isn’t right – what do you think, comrade?” I told Gunam he was right and walked away.
Thinking, “Alright, let’s find out – it shouldn’t be too hard,” I headed to the home of one of our supporters who worked at the farm. He recounted everything that had happened there, and I concluded, “It is definitely PLOTE. I have no doubt.” “No… it was the EPRLF,” he said. I was surprised. It was an EPRLF member who had given me the information earlier that morning. Could it really have been them? I stood there in disbelief. He then listed the individuals who had come to commit the robbery. Finally, he named someone who worked at that very same shrimp factory – an EPRLF member himself. He explained that this man hadn’t entered to commit the robbery directly. Instead, he had stood hidden nearby, pointing out exactly where the valuables were kept. I realized he had acted this way to avoid being identified.
I said to him, “So they told me it was someone else just to cover up the fact that they were the one who committed the robbery? Fine, let it go.” I said, He retorted,”How can we let it go, Kakka? They were all in it together – calling each other ‘Kadavul’ and ‘Kanthan’ while they robbed the place.” Hearing this made me furious. I realized this had been a deliberate, calculated move. Until now, only their names had been associated with the Kokkatticholai area. As people observed our movement’s conduct, they gradually distancing themselves from that group and aligning with us. It was clear that this incident had been staged specifically to cast blame on us.
“These guys need to be taught a proper lesson,” he said. I agreed. I had identified the person who came to commit the robbery. His name was Thayanithi, and he was from Kalladi Street. I didn’t know him personally, but it was confirmed that he commuted to work in the same van used for the shrimp factory. The factory management had arranged a van to transport employees living in the town area, with services running in the morning and evening. Knowing that a specific employee was scheduled for the night shift, I waited at the Magiladithivu junction around 5:00 PM. Two others were waiting with me. The van arrived, and I signaled it to stop. Once it did, all three of us got in. I asked Thayanithi to step out of the vehicle. When no one moved, I began checking everyone’s identity cards.
As soon as I examined the third ID card – which belonged to Thayanithi – he stood up, looking visibly flustered. I told him to get out, and he did so hesitantly. The van driver then approached me and said, “I am responsible for the people traveling on our bus. If you want to take him away, you need to come to the company, inform the ‘white man’ [the manager] in charge, and then take him. Otherwise, I’ll face trouble.” His request seemed reasonable to me. I asked Thayanithi to follow me, then had him got on my motorcycle and drove off. Upon seeing me, the workers at the site somewhat understood the situation and approached me. I spoke to one of them, asking him to inform the manager that I was taking Thayanihi away and would bring him back within an hour. He agreed to do so. Since I had left Thayanithi and the motorcycle at the entrance, he did not know what I had said inside. Upon my return, I took him to the Munaikadu cemetery.
As we had arranged, two fighters were digging a grave there. I told Thayanithi to stand over the spot designated for the burial, and he complied. The digging continued. We did not speak to him at all. Occasionally, he would call out “Annachi” (Brother), but we didn’t even look. We just kept digging, though I would steal glances at his facial expressions from the corner of my eye. At one point, I heard him sobbing. After a while, I looked him over from head to toe, then turned to the diggers and said, “The length doesn’t seem quite right. Dig a little more.” That was the breaking point for him. He burst into loud, uncontrollable weeping.
Amidst his sobs, he revealed everything – that they belonged to the EPRLF, where they had set out from, the names of those who had come for the robbery, the location of the heist, and where he himself had been positioned. Finally, he confessed that he had come for the robbery on the orders of the organization’s leadership and had been instructed to address his accomplices only by the code names ‘Kaakka’, ‘Kadavul’, and ‘Kanthan’ during the operation. He pleaded for his life, promising never to associate with the EPRLF again. We didn’t even look up at him, nor did we interrupt with a single question until he had finished. He just kept pouring out the details rapidly, almost mechanically. Realizing he had nothing left to say, I set off on my motorcycle. As I left, I issued a warning: “Watch him closely – if he tries to run. Well, you know what happens then.”
A group of EPRLF members had gathered at Muthalaikuda. I realized that this was the very subject of their discussion – they had spotted me earlier when I was bringing in the EPRLF member who worked there.
I stopped my motorcycle near Kirubakaran and said, “We’ve caught one of the guys who robbed the prawn company last night. We nabbed him after he unnecessarily assaulted some of the workers there. We know for a fact that he belongs to PLOTE, yet he insists he’s EPRLF. Since he claims to be EPRLF, you really ought to come and see for yourself.” Kirubakaran looked distressed – like a stork choking on a fish bone, unable to either swallow or spit it out. I walked away, thinking he looked even more pitiable than someone waiting at a graveyard.
Kirupakaran, Guna, Paraman, and a few others arrived. The moment he saw them, the EPRLF man began to wail loudly (we were busy digging a trench at the time). Kirubakaran approached me hesitantly. “Comrade, we can ask him ourselves, right?” he asked. “By all means,” I replied. They took him away, and we continued with our work.
About ten minutes later, Kirubakaran returned. “Comrade, he is one of our comrades,” he said, his voice trailing off. I looked at him with feigned surprise, as if I were learning this for the very first time. He continued, “These are the comrades from the Raavun area. That is why we didn’t know they had arrived. We had already stated that if anyone came to this area to carry out any activity, they had to inform us first. They came and did this without knowing that rule.” “Alright, what do we do now?” I asked (while looking at the morgue). “We will discuss it and reach a decision. Let him go for now,” said Kirupakaran. I agreed, “Fine, I can let him go – that’s not the issue.
But while committing the robbery, they were calling each other by names like Kaakka, Kadavul, and Kanthan. This was a deliberate act, and there is no justification for it. The punishment for those who commit fraud using our movement’s name applies here too. Since you are asking, I will release him for your sake – but you must firmly tell everyone that it was indeed the EPRLF that carried out the robbery at the company.” All the EPRLF members nodded vigorously in agreement. I then took Thayanithi on my motorcycle and went to the prawn factory. It was as if he had been given a new lease on life. He went straight in and explained the situation to them. They offered no response.
I called aside a few officials I knew and explained that, as a member of the movement, he had acted under orders from the leadership. I asked them not to take any disciplinary action against him, stating that we did not want him to suffer negative consequences because of this incident. They promised to convey our request to the white man in charge, and I left the premises. After this incident, such antics by the EPRLF members decreased significantly.
– Karumparavai
– Basheer Kakka
– M. Manohar
(Translation by Tamilpriya)
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