The legacy of Sri Lanka’s 26-year civil war is etched into the lives of those who remain, particularly through one of its most harrowing chapters — enforced disappearances. Tens of thousands of people disappeared during the conflict, leaving families in agonizing position. For the Malayaha Tamil community, an already marginalized group, these disappearances compounded a history of systemic neglect and discrimination.
Among those lost is Sandhanam Selvanadhan, an estate worker who disappeared in 1990 at the age of 33, leaving his family with unanswered questions and a void that decades have failed to fill. His story, told by his younger brother, Kurus Pillai, is emblematic of the pain carried by thousands of Sri Lankan families.
The Sandhanam family, with nine siblings, was part of the Malayaha Tamil community, a group brought to Sri Lanka during British colonial rule to work on tea plantations. Despite generations in the country, the community remains economically disadvantaged, with limited access to education, healthcare, and other opportunities.
Like many others, Selvanadhan worked in the estates, but the meager wages were insufficient to support the family. Determined to improve their circumstances, he left in 1990 for Attapaalam, Kalmunai, a town in the war-torn Eastern Province, to work in a Rice mill. He joined a group of neighbors making the same journey, seeking better livelihoods despite the dangers posed by the escalating civil war.
Weeks passed without word from Selvanadhan. His family, accustomed to irregular updates through lorry drivers traveling from Kalmunai, grew increasingly anxious. Months passed, then came a chilling revelation from one of the drivers:
“Don’t wait for him. There’s no point. Perform the rituals for the dead.”
According to the driver, Selvanadhan and few others were stopped at an army checkpoint while returning in a van. The men were detained, and the driver was allowed to leave. This fragment of information was all the family had to piece together his fate.
The war raged on, and the family’s search for answers led nowhere. Appeals to the police, human rights organizations, and other authorities yielded no information. The official silence, coupled with the absence of a death certificate, left the family in financial struggle. Funds belonging to Selvanadhan from his previous work remain inaccessible, a cruel irony for a family living in poverty.
Selvanadhan’s disappearance is part of a grim tapestry that defines Sri Lanka’s civil war. According to human rights groups, over 20,000 people disappeared during the conflict, with many believed to have been abducted.
The impact of these disappearances is deeply felt by families, particularly in economically and socially marginalized communities like the Malayaha Tamils. These families, often living in abject poverty, face not only the emotional toll of losing loved ones but also the economic consequences of losing breadwinners without legal closure.
The Malayaha Tamil community, already sidelined in Sri Lanka’s socio-political landscape, bore the additional burden of navigating a war they had little involvement in. Many, like Selvanadhan, sought work in conflict zones out of sheer necessity, unaware of the risks that awaited them.
For Selvanadhan’s family, the absence of answers has left an enduring wound. “We don’t know what really happened to him,” says Kurus Pillai, his voice heavy with pain. “We only heard bits and pieces from the driver. Without any proper response, all we can do is wait and hope.”
This unresolved grief is compounded by the daily struggle for survival. Without a death certificate, the family cannot access the funds Selvanadhan left behind. It is a cruel reminder of the systemic barriers faced by those at the margins of society.
Sri Lanka has taken steps to address the issue of enforced disappearances, including establishing the Office on Missing Persons (OMP). However, progress has been slow, and trust in the process remains low among affected families.
For the Malayaha Tamil community, justice is not just about uncovering the truth of what happened to their loved ones. It is also about addressing decades of systemic neglect and ensuring their stories are included in Sri Lanka’s broader narrative of reconciliation and peacebuilding.
Selvanadhan’s disappearance is not just the story of one man or one family — it is a reflection of the collective pain borne by thousands across Sri Lanka. His family’s fight for answers mirrors the struggle of countless others seeking closure and justice.
As Sri Lanka grapples with its past, the stories of the disappeared must remain at the forefront of the nation’s quest for healing. For families like the Sandhanam’s, justice is not just a legal process — it is the hope for a future where their pain is acknowledged, their losses are addressed, and their dignity is restored.
