Appa never came back – Vasanthi’s story

Vasanthi can now walk hand in hand with her Husband Vasantha, on the A9 road which runs in front of their home. The love for each other was all they had, at a time when all they owned and had were crumbling around them. Their dreams of being with each other, have now come true.

Twenty one year old Vasanthi who was earlier residing at the Ramanathan Camp and Menik Farm, has now had the opportunity to come back to where she calls home. Along with that, she has regained a chance to rebuild their lives which were shaken up and tossed around by the last phases of the violent civil war between the separatist LTTE, and Armed Forces.

Vasanthi was born in a climate of war in Pursandhi, Puliyakkulam, in Kilinochchi. Her father’s life was taken by a shell during the height of the war – a stark reminder of the childhood she had set to a background music beating with the sounds of bombs, gunfire and explosions. When the war came to an end, it took with it the home that they lived in.

“As the war climaxed, the fears in us grew. I remember at the latter stages how we couldn’t even sit down at one place to finish a meal” she remembers.

Her mind is drawn to that fateful night when the war claimed her father. “My brother and I were huddled up in fear. I remember an artillery shell landing in the front garden. And all of a sudden, all the fighting ceased – and there was silence. Appa went out to survery the damage”

Appa never came back.

They never had a chance to mourn over Appa’s body. They had to gather whatever mere belongings they had, and move to the next village for shelter, and the hope of safety.

“The army then moved us to the Ramanathan Camp at Menik Farm”, she recalls. Whilst the freedom for them to move about, or leave the camp was restricted, she says that they were treated well. “My brother is very small. He didn’t have the space to move about and play, that the other children of his age had.”

Vasanthi didn’t have the means or the ability to enjoy life’s little luxuries that came with her age. She had to make do with whatever aid that was given either by the Government, or the aid organizations who were working there.

But then things started to look up for Vasanthi.

Vasanthan, a neighbor they have known for a long time was also residing at the same Camp. Their world of romance was not that of movie theatres and long walks hand in hand, but one of being surrounded by automatic weapons and barbed wire. When all forms of normalcy were falling apart around them, Vasanthan and Vasanthi formed a bond, which was unbreakable. In place of sweet nothings being whispered, their love was limited to a clandestine winks, a camouflaged smile.

“When I was in the camp, the only thing I could think of was coming back to our home town, and to start our own little world” says Vasanthan. Their dream slowly but surely took wings and turned into reality. After the painstakingly slow process of demining was over, they could move in during the early days of 2010.

What greeted them however, was a picture of chaos. All they owned were now left as heaps of rubble, completely destroyed. But they had two things to be happy about – they had themselves, and they were alive.

“We were given the basic supplies to start out afresh” Vasanthan said. The Government provided them with roofing, and with the their own tears and sweat a two small houses came into life – one for them, and one for Vasanthi’s mother and brother.

Vasanthan doesn’t have employment yet. But Vasanthi now dreams of the day she can become a mother. Her brother, the ten year old Jayanthan still pops over whenever he gets the chance.

The heat from the A9 road blares upon their house. But for Vasanthi and Vasanthan, they have found love, and with it, they have found happiness. They are alive.