It is still not too late Prabhakaran

ANTON Balasingham who propagated the hatred words of his leader Velupillai Prabhakaran is dead. He died of cancer.

Though he wouldn't have suffered like his leader's victims Rajiv Gandhi, Lakshman Kadirgamar, R. Premadasa, Sarojini Yogeshwaran and a countless number of innocent Sri Lankans and their families, we are sure Balasingham also would have suffered in some way.

His wife Adele and his leader Prabhakaran will feel his loss. Prabhakaran has already given the late Balasingham the 'Voice of the Nation" title - a non-existent title of his pipe dream. A title that does not exist because there is no nation.

Balasingham died a British citizen and Prabhakaran is a Sri Lankan citizen. So are his children who use Sri Lankan passports.

Death is inevitable. Cowards die many times before their death. However, it is not late for one to realise and begin to understand the circle of life. The most important thing we citizens must do is to realise it and live our lives to the fullest and give our best to our motherlands.

There is no need to bring destruction to the children of Mother Lanka. If anyone or Prabhakaran thinks that he is immortal he is wrong. Some day he might die of a heart attack, or lightning may strike him or he might die of disease. He will not die in combat because he is in hiding.

This may be the time for Prabhakaran to realise it if he has not realised as yet, that we all die. What must he do then even at this late stage? Stop the destruction, stop all killings, give up his pipe dream and talk peace and help Sri Lanka achieve peace.

If Prabhakaran thinks he will be remembered as someone who tried to fulfil the needs of the Tamils in Sri Lanka he is wrong. Does he know how many people curse him each second? Not only in Sri Lanka but also in other countries. Does he know how many children have been orphaned by him? Does he know how many innocent women have become widowed due to his killings?

Does he know how many young people have lost their limbs because of him? Does he know how many people have become homeless due to his acts of vengeance? Does he know that everyone in this country wants to live in peace and harmony and because they all know that life is only a short journey?

Does he know that he has halted bringing prosperity to Jaffna and other places in his own country, his own Motherland - Sri Lanka? Does he know that death brings destruction and destruction brings death?

We say it is still not too late Prabhakaran. We have our times and when our time comes and when the call comes we all have to go. Some times consigned to flames or buried in Mother Earth. Death will come. Death will come. But, only the good will be remembered. The evil will be forgotten.

It is time Prabhakaran reads the famous short story by Leo Tolstoy written in 1886, 'How much land does a man need'? We reproduce the final paragraphs of the story for Prabhakaran's reading pleasure. We hope it will make him realise as he grieves the death of his friend and elder brother Anton Stanislaus Balasingham.

"There is plenty of land," thought he, "but will God let me live on it? I have lost my life, I have lost my life! I shall never reach that spot!" Pakhom looked at the sun, which had reached the earth: one side of it had already disappeared. With all his remaining strength he rushed on, bending his body forward so that his legs could hardly follow fast enough to keep him from falling.

Just as he reached the hillock it suddenly grew dark. He looked up - the sun had already set! He gave a cry: "All my labour has been in vain," thought he, and was about to stop, but he heard the Bashkirs still shouting and remembered that though to him, from below, the sun seemed to have set, they on the hillock could still see it. He took a long breath and ran up the hillock.

It was still light there. He reached the top and saw the cap. Before it sat the chief laughing and holding his sides. Again Pakhom remembered his dream, and he uttered a cry: his legs gave way beneath him; he fell forward and reached the cap with his hands.

"Ah, that's a fine fellow!" exclaimed the chief. "He has gained much land!" Pakhom's servant came running up and tried to raise him, but he saw that blood was flowing from his mouth. Pakhom was dead!

The Bashkirs clicked their tongues to show their pity. His servant picked up the spade and dug a grave long enough for Pakhom to lie in, and buried him in it. Six feet from his head to his heels was all he needed."

That's all we all would have finally.

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