Aathavan

A beloved motherland is one in which every person feels at home. When someone speaks of their identity, we would do well to listen for the history, memories and emotions behind their words. The debate around “Eezhath Tamizhachi” gives us an opportunity to listen with greater understanding. Pride in Tamil heritage does not, by itself, mean support for the LTTE or rejection of Sri Lanka. Our country has had a troubled past. We must find the courage to acknowledge our shortcomings, the injustices people endured and the opportunities for reconciliation we have missed. Tamil civilians suffered immense loss, displacement and anguish. Sinhala, Muslim and other communities, too, carry wounds that time alone cannot heal. Every mother’s grief deserves compassion. Every family’s loss deserves recognition. We lose nothing by acknowledging another’s pain; we create the possibility of understanding one another. Sri Lanka had to confront the terrorism of the LTTE. Its defeat ended decades of armed conflict and gave our people the chance to rebuild their lives in peace. We owe it to everyone who suffered to make that peace enduring to build a country where all can live with dignity, security, equal rights and hope. And there is so much in this country worth cherishing. Every day, the vast majority of our people live and work alongside one another. We share meals, celebrate each other’s festivals, build friendships across communities and stand by our neighbours in times of sorrow. These ordinary acts of affection and solidarity seldom make headlines. Yet they are among the deepest truths of who we are. Our tradition of universal access to public healthcare, free education extending to university, and social support for those in need is also something to value. These systems need strengthening, but they express a shared conviction: that every life matters and that opportunity should reach beyond those who can afford it. Generations of Sri Lankans, from every community, have helped sustain that promise. To the younger generations of our diaspora, I would offer an invitation: come to know Sri Lanka in its fullness. Bring your questions, your memories and your concerns. Meet its people, hear their stories and see both what remains to be put right and what is worth celebrating. There is a place for your talents, your ideas and your hopes in this country’s future. Those of us at home must be equally willing to listen. We all inherit incomplete accounts of the past. Understanding grows when we make room for experiences beyond our own. No one should have to surrender their language, faith, culture or family history to feel Sri Lankan. Our shared identity can embrace all these attachments. Belonging grows through the respect we show one another and the fairness with which we treat every citizen. Let us be honest about our failures, generous in recognising the good in one another, and determined to do better together. We cannot change what earlier generations lived through. We can shape what the next generation will inherit. May we leave our children a Sri Lanka where every language is heard with respect, every community feels secure, and every child grows up knowing: “I belong here. This is my home. This is our beloved motherland.”