(Spoken Word for MaaveerarNaal)
I remember the screams.
Tortured, ripped-out-of-your-throat screams. No matter how many times I had heard them, they still caused my blood to run cold, as I crouched in my position ready. The capsule in my mouth tasted as bland as the death I would grant myself if caught. There were to be no mistakes. There could be no mistakes.
My heart pounded in my ears, the blood within sizzling with one strong emotion that outdid any other small feelings: justice.
The word was so sweet, too sweet to be uttered in this cruel world.
I wanted it – no. I craved it, as we all did. There would be no rest until we had it – until we freed our homeland. Our beloved Tamil Eelam – a great community of people who suffered for far too long. I didn’t want to change history; I wanted to change the screams into laughter. I wanted the sun to warm our skins again, the water to taste sweet and not metallic from the blood of my fallen brothers or salty from the widows that beat their chest so hard that I cannot believe they haven’t broken a rib. Then again; they would rather have a broken rib than a broken heart, I suppose.
This was my life’s purpose, the fate I’ve accepted: to die with pride for my country in my heart and if needed, to allow my veins to open up to world and finally released the red birds that want so badly to fly away, towards paradise. However, I will cage these birds until justice blows on the embers of my people’s hopes, and ignite the fire once more.
Do not confuse our aims as cruel revenge—no, we want justice, for those infants without parents, for those shrieking widows, for our brothers and sisters who gave before us. We are ready to give it all so that light may reach the dark cage our hearts have been locked inside of and the warmth of justice is the key to those cages. We are ready to make the ultimate sacrifice, ready to look death in the face and smile with pride as we take our last breath with heads held high because that is what we do. We are Maaveerars, the warriors of Tamil Eelam, and we will not rest. Even after our bodies are long forgotten, our spirits refuse to settle until we get what we need.
I remember the screams that the cruel military soldiers pulled out of my sister’s throat. I remember the look of burned-out hope in my mother’s eyes and I remember my father’s funeral that never happened because there was no body. I remember—I remember—
I remember what I must do and those who need me to do this.
– Sharuthie Ramesh
Tamil Translation is available Click here