Channel 4: Prabhakaran’s son’s killing
Posted on March 13th, 2012
Asoka Weerasinghe Kings Grove Crescent . Gloucester . Ontario . K1J 6G1 . Canada
13 March 2012
Film Producer, Channel 4
Horseferry Road, London SW 1, UK
Dear Callum Macrae:
Once upon a time, as a young Geology student at the University of London, walking into the Geology Museum at South Kensington, and being met by display case after display case of Ceylon gems and geological structures, my blood curdled with resentment towards colonial Britishers for plundering the geological wealth from my Ceylon, and I always preambled my description of these British colonial ‘whites’ as “Those damn white bastards…” When they left Ceylon in 1948, they did not consider having display case after display case of Ceylon gems and geological structures at the Colombo Museum, after 131 years of colonial rule. That was my anger.
With time, and mellowing age, I grew out of that resentment, but unfortunately, I am afraid, that I have come a full circle with Ceylon now being called Sri Lanka, and finding a new generation of British ‘white’ rascals like you trying to plunder and thrash the well deserved and earned ‘Peace’ of the peoples of Sri Lanka after a bloody 30 year long war with the Tamil Tiger terrorists who you are trying to cloak as hard-done-by innocent babes-in-the-woods, who were eliminated militarily by the Sri Lankan soldiers. That is a hard cock-eyed sentiment to swallow, mate. I say, “tough-tiddy”.
An article published in the Independent says, “Callum Macrae, the British journalist-filmmaker who made both documentaries describes the scene involving Prabhakaran’s son vividly:
“A 12-year-old boy lies on the ground. He is stripped to the waist and has five bullet holes in his chest…” you say.
So what Callum? War kills you fool, as we saw thousands of innocent Sinhalese and Muslims being killed by the Tamil Tiger terrorists. That was a daily routine in this Tamil terrorist war. Do you expect me as a reader to fall on my knees place my two palms on my face covering my eyes and sob like a baby at the death of this 12-year old Tamil Tiger cub in this ugly, unnecessary war that you have made it a lucrative business padding your pockets with Sinhala-blood soaked dough. Shame on you, mate.
Callum, I am left with no more tears to weep for Prabhakaran’s 12-year old son, as I had shed all my tears on June 2, 1987, when 31 Buddhist novice monks, all around the age of Prabhakaran’s son, who were in a bus at Aranthalawa on their way on a pilgrimage to Kelaniya, which was ambushed by 20 of Prabhakaran’s Tamil terrorists and went on a rampage killing 31 of them, shooting at point blank range with machine guns and chopping them with machetes, accept three who were lucky to get away to tell us the real story.
I am a Buddhist and those killings affected me very much. And you are complaining about Prabhakaran’s son’s death. You are being a heartless British vindictive-rascal, Callum, for not highlighting the killings by the Tamil Tigers of my 31 Buddhist novice monks, but trying to pull at the heart strings of the UNHRC’s permanent country representatives to vote for the US Resolution against Sri Lanka which is cunning like you not exposing the Tamil Tiger atrocities. Ha! A vindictive conspiracy, for getting rid of the cow that gave you all unending buckets of dollar- milk for 30 years.
Your voice over photographs of these 31 bodies in a Channel 4 video, “Thirty-one young bodies wrapped in bloodied yellow robes lie outside the ambushed bus, each body having at least five bullet holes through their heads and chests, shot by the ruthless Tamil Tigers, Prabhakaran’s men, and some have their brains jutting out of their skulls like ketchup covered spaghetti, after ruthless machete attacks…” would have been an honest reporting by a film-journalist. But it was not to be as this scene was not lucrative enough financially. So goes the shameless, dishonest bastardized film-journalism. You are such a film-journalist, Callum Macrae. Nothing more and nothing less. It may be hard for you to take my views about your unethical film-journalism, but then that is how the cookie crumbles. You can take it or leave it. Or you may want to write to me and I will write you back.