You change first, for others to follow. If you cant change then please STFU.

I am very proud of you as a Srilankan Tamil
God bless you

Nishan’s uncle was the mayor of Jaffna, the late Alfred Duraiappah the first victim of the LTTE who was personally executed by Vallupullai Prabhakaran. When Alfred’s sisters who resided in Canada arrived In Sri Lanka to attend their brother’s funeral then Prime Minister Sirimavo Bandaranayake ordered that they be transported by helicopter from Colombo to Jaffna.

Nishan’s father who was a supervisor at a large Canadian bank used his authority to secure jobs for any Sri Lankan immigrant who asked him, not caring a wit whether they were Sinhala, Tamil, Muslim or Burgher or whether they were Hindu, Christian or Buddhist.

It took me two hours to walk through the parking lot at the annual “Tamil Picnic” held on July 26, 1983 which was organized by Nishan’s aunts and their friends because each group of men who were milling around their cars, as soon as they saw me would say “Malli, have a drink / Malli, have a vadai/patties / Malli, here is a beer”, Malli, why are you so late” etc. None of us of course knew till the next day that what I later dubbed the “Carnage in Colombo” was in full progress. Till July 26, 1983 the Burghers, Sinhalese, Muslims and Tamils of Toronto were a completely united community – united in our isolation, our tiny numbers and and in our relative “newness” to Canada. That world changed on July 27, 1983 as we found out about the latest violence. In my humble opinion the four communities in Toronto will never be able to be united again.

While I was always called “Malli” by Nishan’s parents and their friends; family to the ever respectful Nishan and his cousins I was “Uncle Malli” this strange man who drank scotch and disco danced with their parents yet was hardly taller than the children!

The last time I met Nishan he was barely a teenager. Nishan’s father had been felled by a sudden heart attack. It was a brutally cold day when we were laying Nisahn’s father to rest. Every prayer we said, every hymn we sang, every rose we tossed on the coffin as it slowly descended into the frozen earth, was an act of sheer willpower, as we the Sri Lankans we are and will always be, were woefully under dressed and so incapable of warding off the bone chilling arctic wind that swirled around us in the Milton cemetery.

Nishan, I have no doubt that you lat Dad and your late aunty Stella, both safe in the arms of Jesus, are singing the praises of the Lord for the favours bestowed upon you.

Fare thee well!

“Uncle Malli” AKA Viresh Fernando
Toronto, Canada.