I
Played
Chess
with
a
‘Terrorist’
by Shanthi Padmalingam
My
heart
feels
heavy.
Maybe
it
is
the
longing
to
go
back
and
help
my
people
of
Tamil
Eelam.
Maybe
it
is
from
looking
at
pictures
of
the
people
I
have
just
met
and
don’t
want
to
leave
behind.
Maybe
it
is
the
shock
of
realizing
how
very
wrong
I
have
been.
Never
having
a
true
understanding
of
the
Tamil
people’s
struggle
for
freedom,
it
was
easier
for
me
to
sit
on
my
satin
sofa,
thousands
of
miles
away
in
America,
and
argue
with
my
father
about
the
necessity
of
the
war
the
Liberation
Tigers
of
Tamil
Eelam
had
waged.
Why
had
they
not
been
able
to
discover
an
alternative
to
war?
Why
have
so
many
people
died?
It
was
not
until
seeing
the
reality
of
Tamil
Eelam
that
it
dawned
on
me
that
this
was
not
a
war
the
Tigers
had
waged:
this
was
a
war
the
Sri
Lankan
government
had
waged
on
the
Tamil
people,
forcing
them
to
defend
themselves
and
fight
for
a
just
peace...
A
peace
in
which
Tamil
students
are
guaranteed
a
fair
and
equal
education;
a
peace
in
which
12-year
old
Tamil
girls
do
not
fear
gang-rape
by
the
Sri
Lankan
Army;
a
peace
in
which
Tamil
sons
are
not
forced
to
watch
their
fathers
stripped
naked
and
burnt
alive
while
policemen
dance
around
the
body
in
triumph.
As
I
stood
in
the
midst
of
thousands
of
graves
of
cadres
who
had
given
their
lives
for
their
struggle,
I
witnessed
the
true
meaning
of
what
it
means
to
be
selfless.
The
young
annas
and
accas
(brothers
and
sisters)
whose
names
are
proudly
etched
on
the
tombstones
had
passionately
dedicated
their
minds,
bodies
and
souls
to
this
movement.
What
were
they
expecting
in
return?
Something
that
I
take
for
granted
everyday
in
America
–
something
we
grow
up
with
here,
along
with
the
ABCs
and
123s
–
freedom.
The
young
annas
and
accas
did
not
join
the
LTTE
for
recognition.
They
did
not
leave
crying
mothers
begging
them
to
stay
home
in
order
to
receive
a
nice
salary.
And
though
many,
as
I
did
not
too
long
ago,
may
like
to
believe
that
the
cadres
picked
up
rifles
for
the
simple
sake
of
violence,
this
is
utterly
untrue.
Their
turn
to
armed
resistance
was
an
unfortunate
measure
the
Tamil
youth
had
to
take
in
order
to
ensure
a
just
peace.
In
the
words
of
one
anna,
"We
are
shedding
blood
so
future
generations
of
our
people
will
not
have
to
shed
any
more
tears."
It
saddens
me
to
think
that
people
outside
of
Tamil
Eelam
may
never
truly
understand
their
freedom
struggle...
That
people,
who
are
in
a
position
to
help
ease
the
suffering
there,
blindly
believe
the
media
and
label
the
LTTE
as
terrorists.
Maybe
I
will
never
know
the
complete
history
of
their
struggle,
or
every
detail
of
each
battle,
but
I
do
know
that
I
have
never
been
exposed
to
more
love
and
respect
than
I
felt
in
Eelam.
The
annas
and
accas
who
had
courageously
defended
their
families
against
the
terrorism
of
the
government
showed
me
what
it
means
to
live
for
a
just
cause
and
selflessly
live
for
the
people.
These
freedom
fighters,
who
many
unjustly
prefer
to
call
"terrorists,"
have
become
more
than
just
friends
to
me.
They
have
become
a
part
of
my
family.
Playfully
teasing
me
about
my
lack
of
cooking
skills,
giving
me
the
self-confidence
to
speak
my
broken
Tamil,
laughing
with
me
over
ice
cream,
and
tickling
me
to
keep
me
from
leaving
so
I
could
share
their
food
with
them
are
moments
made
many
times
more
extraordinary
when
experienced
with
those
we
hold
dear
to
our
heart.
Upon
first
meeting
them,
I
did
not
think
I
would
ever
recognize
them
without
their
loving
smiles.
However,
after
talking
with
them
and
hearing
their
stories,
I
realized
it
was
not
just
their
smiles
that
drew
me
to
them.
It
was
the
depth
of
their
eyes.
The
pain,
the
heartache
that
they
held,
and
the
determination
that
their
children
would
not
feel
the
same
horror,
were
all
reflected
in
their
eyes.
I
always
wondered
how
they
felt
in
the
battlefield.
Weren’t
they
afraid
of
dying?
One
anna
asked
me
how
they
can
fear
death
when
that
is
all
they
have
ever
known.
It
does
not
make
sense
to
me
how
the
man
who
thousands
of
children,
orphaned
by
the
conflict,
affectionately
call
"Appah"
(father)
is
also
the
same
man
who
is
hatefully
deemed
a
terrorist
in
America.
The
leader
of
this
freedom
movement,
Velupillai
Pirabakaran,
grew
up
with
Tamil
men
and
women
crying
to
his
mother
while
reliving
stories
of
rape,
torture
and
massacre
by
the
Sri
Lankan
Army.
After
years
of
peaceful
protesting,
only
to
be
urinated
on,
arrested,
and
abused,
the
Tamil
people
finally
refused
to
accept
further
injustice.
They
decided
to
carry
arms
and
defend
themselves.
Overcoming
the
obstacles
involved
in
sparking
a
revolution,
the
LTTE
could
not
have
matured
without
the
fierce
support
of
its
people.
During
war
time,
70-year
old
grandmothers
run
in
the
streets
carrying
rifles
in
order
to
defend
themselves
from
the
Sri
Lankan
Army.
When
those
same
grandmothers
are
shouting
words
of
inspiration
that
the
youth
of
today
must
be
able
to
defend
themselves
against
those
who
are
trying
to
erase
the
Tamil
people’s
culture
and
history,
it
becomes
not
just
words,
but
expectations.
Expectations
that
the
Tamil
people
will
not
let
their
heritage
be
taken
away
from
them.
As
I
think
back
on
my
moments
spent
with
these
"terrorists,"
I
remember
the
sound
they
make
when
they
giggle
at
a
friend's
impersonation
of
a
fish.
I
remember
the
love
in
their
eyes
as
they
tell
me
why
they
joined
the
LTTE.
I
remember
the
sadness
in
one
anna’s
voice
as
he
recalled
watching
two
of
his
female
classmates
shot
by
the
army.
I
remember
the
laughter
on
their
faces
as
they
clapped
their
hands
to
songs
of
freedom.
I
remember
the
pride
in
the
way
they
raise
the
national
flag
of
Tamil
Eelam,
in
the
hopes
that
one
day,
they
will
have
a
land
they
can
call
"home."
###
Posted September 12, 2005