This is an emotional story of a family brutally torn apart. For some reason, the older children of this family who were born before the start of the war, were raised as Sinhala Buddhists in one province, while the children born during the war grew up as Tamil Hindus in another province. This moving tale is about how the older siblings reunited with their younger brothers and sisters long after the war ended.
Rathnasami’s Story
The protagonist of this story is Rathnasami, the father of the family. He now lives in his home in Nelukkulam, Kumankulam in Vavuniya, along with his youngest son. Sitting on a mat in the living room of his modest house, preparing a chew of betel, the 76-year-old Rathnasami took us back five to six decades into the past to narrate his story. But this is not just his story; it’s a fraction of the sorrowful tales faced by many parents in our own country, who became victims of the racial and ethnic divide.
Although Rathnasami now lives in a Tamil village in the north, his birthplace is a Sinhala village in the North Western Province of the country. That village is Andaraweva, situated near Galgamuwa, adjacent to the Mahawa-Ehetuwewa region.
Rathnasami’s father was Ramasami, and his birthplace was also Andaraweva. During the time Rathnasami can remember, Andaraweva was among the wealthy villages in the area, and their family was part of this wealth. Though they were ethnically Tamil, they followed Buddhism.
Ramasami had seven children. The eldest was Narayanasami, the second was Manikka, and Rathnasami was the third. The other siblings included sisters Kamala, Amara, and Soma, and the youngest brother Arunachalam. All of them attended school at the Nanneeriya Maha Vidyalaya.
“Our father owned around 20 acres of land, scattered in Mahawela, Ihala Wela, Muhandirampanguwa, Maha Akkare, and Moragahawela, among other places. We also had cattle and buffalo. When I was around 14 or 15 years old, we had over a thousand buffaloes. After school, we used to take care of them.” As Rathnasami recalled the past, a time before racism and ethnic division was even known to him, his face gleamed.
Rathnasami’s Marriage
Rathnasami married Rosaline Nona, the youngest daughter of a Tamil Buddhist family from Wariyapola, in the early 1970s. He fondly recalls how Rosaline’s parents and relatives were instrumental in helping the family during many difficult times and in raising their children.
Just like his father, Rathnasami was passionate about farming. His father-in-law, Vadivelu Muhandiramge Aiyakannu, frequently visited Andaraweva to help Rathnasami with farming. By this time, Premadasa, the second son of Rathnasami’s father-in-law, had married Rathnasami’s eldest sister, further strengthening the familial bond. Eventually, Premadasa and his family moved to Andaraweva to engage in farming together.
The Separation of the Children Begins
In 1972, the entire country faced a major drought. Rathnasami’s father, Ramasami passed away unexpectedly. Rosaline had just given birth to their second child, Rathnakumar, a few months earlier. Seeing how hard it was for Rosaline to manage both farming and motherhood, her father thought it best to take in their eldest child, two-year-old Weerakumar, to Wariyapola. Weerakumar went with his grandfather, holding onto his hand, and never again expressed a desire to return to his parents.
Rosaline gave birth to a third son, Premakumar. Shortly thereafter, Rosaline’s mother, Jane Nona, visited and took the second son Rathnakuar also to Wariyapola.
“When the grandparents asked for the children, we couldn’t refuse. But it was also hard to part with them. I and my wife didn’t want to hurt them. We were living a very tough life, and things were better in their village, without any hardship for the children. So we remained silent,” Rathnasami said when we asked him about the separation.
By 1976, the couple had their fourth child, Shanthi, who was six years younger than Weerakumar. However, just three months after Shanthi’s birth, a shocking incident forced Rathnasami’s family to leave Andaraweva.
A Dark Omen Before the Destruction
Despite facing about four years of drought from 1972 onward, Rathnasami and his family managed their farming as best as they could. By 1976, when the rains finally came, they re-started paddy cultivation. Rathnasami’s paddy fields were more productive than others. Rosaline’s family also contributed significantly to this success. As a result, Rathnasami stood out among other farmers, which led to jealousy from some villagers. Rathnasami learned that a group of villagers had planned to set fire to their crops and house out of envy before harvesting.
“On that day, Nona (Rosaline) was unwell, so we postponed harvesting to the next day. Some of her relatives came to help, so we didn’t ask for assistance from the villagers. However, a couple of villagers insisted on helping and worked alongside our relatives. We even gave them food and drinks in the evening. It was only later that we found out about their plans to commit a terrible crime.”
It was a shocking conspiracy. If they had harvested the previous day, by nightfall, some villagers would have set fire to their crops and house.
“They had discussed, ‘How come the Tamils are doing better than us? We should drive them out of here.’ Apparently, they had planned to do the crime after drinking the alcohol we had provided. They plotted to set fire to our crops and home. My uncle and I had worked tirelessly on these fields, and our success was too much for them to bear. It was envy. Back then and even today.”
This realization made Rathnasami sense an impending disaster. He immediately understood that the village was no longer safe for his family, and they needed to leave. When he shared his fears with his family, they did not believe him. Despite his warnings, his relatives rejected the idea as foolish, so Rathnasami decided that his immediate family would leave the village alone.
While searching for a place to relocate, Rathnasami received information from a trader who frequently visited Andaraweva. The trader told him about a plot of land with a house for sale along the Vavuniya-Mannar road. Rathnasami went there the very next day and found the land. Though the area was just as harsh as where he lived, he believed he could develop it. He immediately paid a deposit to reserve the five-acre plot, priced at Rs. 1,000 per acre. There was a small house and a shallow well on the land. The owner, in need of quick money, was selling it to move elsewhere.
Returning to Andaraweva, Rathnasami began selling off his lands and livestock as quickly as possible. Although his wife and youngest son were reluctant, they did not oppose his decision. Other relatives mocked him for this choice, but Rathnasami pressed ahead. By the time they realized their mistake, Rathnasami had already settled in his new land.
The whole country caught fire, and so did Andaraweva
It was the 1977 elections, a significant one that marked a major political shift in the country. However, within a week, it became clear that the election results were unfavorable to the Tamil population. Political changes triggered a wave of anti-Tamil violence across the country. Hearing this, Rathnasami’s relatives in Andaraweva fled with whatever they could carry.
Living in the same village with Sinhalese who had frequently visited their homes, Rathnasami’s relatives watched from the jungle as their homes and possessions were looted and set on fire. While one group committed these acts, another secretly provided them with food and water, offering shelter. Rathnasami’s sisters recounted how these kind villagers even helped them reach refugee camps. For over a year, they helped them survive by supplying rice and coconuts. After spending more than a week in the jungle, Rathnasami’s relatives finally reached a camp under military protection at the Maliyadeva Pirivena in Kurunegala.
Rathnasami only learned of this destruction a week or two later. During a trip to Vavuniya town, he saw Tamil people being brought into the town under government protection. Investigating further, he learned about the widespread devastation. His immediate thoughts were of his sisters and relatives. The anxiety and helplessness he felt were overwhelming.
“That very day, I inquired about what had happened to my sisters. They weren’t among the people brought to the town. Later, I found out that they had been taken to Kurunegala. I immediately went to Wariyapola and with my father, went to Maliyadeva Pirivena. Seeing them safe with my own eyes brought me immense relief. Even though my father had some problems in Wariyapola, the village monks had provided strong protection. Although my father was Tamil, he was a Buddhist and a major supporter of the temple. The monks were very close to my father. By that time, our eldest children were attending school in the village.”
Later, I returned to Andaraweva. The devastation I witnessed was indescribable. I wondered what sins my eyes had committed to seeing such destruction. The main house was reduced to ashes, and the remaining grain in the barn was still burning. The villagers said it had been burning for over two weeks. I took what was left of my sisters’ belongings and returned to Wariyapola. If they had left the village when I told them to, there wouldn’t have been such destruction.”
After returning to Kumankulam, Rathnasami arranged for his sisters to join him. They had to sell their lands and livestock at a loss, his relatives moved near his new land in Kumankulam. To this day, they live around Rathnasami’s property.
Rathnasami’s youngest son, Shivakumar, was born after his relatives had moved to Kumankulam. Shortly after his birth, Rathnakumar, who often cried for his parents, was taken by Rosaline’s parents to live with Rathnasami.
Later, Rosaline’s mother expressed her desire to take young Premakumar with her. Premakumar, too, expressed willingness to leave with his grandmother, which surprised everyone. Rathnasami and Rosaline had little choice but to agree. By that time, Premakumar had started schooling at the Tamil school in Nelukkulam. Eventually, he was also enrolled in the same school Weerakumar attended in Wariyapola.
Forced to Leave the Village Once Again
Though Rathnasami’s family moved to an area in Vavuniya with a Tamil majority to escape ethnic tensions, it only became another source of trouble. After spending a few peaceful years, the entire country was once again engulfed in flames during the Black July riots of 1983. The Tamil massacre that began in Colombo reached even the distant village of Kumankulam in Vavuniya. Arson, threats, and terror spread unabated. Rathnasami and others had to abandon their homes for a brief period, living in refugee camps before returning to rebuild from scratch. However, that was not the last time they would face displacement.
During this time, Rathnasami and Rosaline welcomed two more daughters into their family: Manika and Chandrika. By January 1990, Rosaline’s father, Aiyakannu, had passed away suddenly. Six months later, their youngest son, Padmakumar, was born. However, shortly after his birth, Rathnasami’s family once again faced one of the darkest and most terrifying times, more severe and heartbreaking than before. It was a time of such intense turmoil that the family was once again torn apart.
By 1990, LTTE activities in the Vavuniya area had reached their peak. The LTTE hid among civilians and launched attacks on the military, leading to retaliatory strikes by the military, placing ordinary villagers in severe danger.
“On one side, the military attacked the LTTE, and on the other side, the LTTE struck back at the military. We were caught in the middle. Mortar shells would hit houses and turn them into rubble. We dug large holes in our fields, like bunkers, and hid in them. But even then, people were getting killed. When it became unbearable, people started fleeing the villages. Our village was one of the last to leave. My second sister’s husband and another cousin stayed behind, hiding in bunkers for several years until we returned.”
Caught between attacks from both sides, the villagers, realizing that survival was the priority, decided to flee, taking whatever they could carry. Some hid their valuables, while others sold them at low prices, as many opportunistic groups had already emerged to exploit the situation. Others simply fled, leaving everything behind. Their final goal was to head westward, with many secretly planning to reach India by boat after first reaching the refugee camp near the Madhu Church.
There were several reasons behind this desperate flight. The people were terrified, unsure when the war would end. Most of those fleeing were people who had previously lived in Sinhala villages and had already experienced ethnic violence. Although they suffered more in this new place, they were unwilling to return to the Sinhala areas. Some of them had been forcibly relocated by the government, and after facing repeated atrocities, they were determined not to return.
Meanwhile, the LTTE was also expanding its recruitment network, forcibly enlisting young men, women, and even children. This was a terrifying prospect for parents, especially those with children, and they felt they had no choice but to flee to India or send their children away. Many had heard about those who had made it to India, which seemed both a hopeful and dangerous option. With no other option, Rathnasami and his family decided to flee, trapped between life and death.
At the time of their escape, Padmakumar was just a few months old. Rathnakumar was 18, Shanthi was 14, Shivakumar was 12, Manika was 7, and Chandrika was 5. Together, Rathnasami and Rosaline set out on their fateful journey. Before leaving, they buried some of their valuables, including precious pottery, in a secret place.
The Long Journey to Madhu Camp
The distance from Vavuniya to Mannar is around 80 kilometers, and the trek to the Madhu camp covered the same distance through dense jungle, making the journey long and arduous. Rathnasami’s group, including Rosaline, numbered around 5,000. Along the way, they encountered attacks from both the LTTE and the military. The fleeing people ran in panic, with some falling victim to snake bites, fever, and other illnesses. Others perished from sheer exhaustion. In the thick jungle, it was difficult to give the deceased proper burials. They either left them behind or hastily buried them.
Rathnasami, reflecting on the hardships of the journey, showed us his feet, still bearing the scars of that time.
“We fled to escape the war. During the day, either the military or the LTTE would attack. Sometimes, helicopters would shoot at us. We had to hide during the day and move at night. The jungle was full of dangers, including snakes and wild animals. Even with shoes, there was no real protection. Children were crying. All we knew was that Madhu was a safe place with no war, a refuge camp, and that we could escape to India from there. That’s why, despite the hardships, we kept going,” Rathnasami recounted, his voice heavy with emotion.
Rosaline Falls Ill
After some time at the camp, Rosaline developed a serious illness. Despite requests for treatment, the LTTE kept delaying her transfer to a hospital. Even when aid workers visited the camp, they were told that Rosaline should be hospitalized, but the LTTE leaders ignored these pleas. After many petitions and appeals, she was eventually taken to the Vavuniya hospital, where she was diagnosed with lung cancer. Unfortunately, the hospital lacked the necessary treatments for her condition, and it had already been several months since the symptoms began.
The hospital recommended Rosaline be transferred to Kurunegala for further treatment as soon as possible. However, upon returning to the camp, the LTTE delayed the transfer. After much effort, Rathnasami and all, LTTE finally granted permission to take her to Wariyapola.
When they arrived in Wariyapola, their son, who had fled to India, was also there. Upon hearing about their mother’s illness and life in the camp, the children felt sorry. Rathnasami left Rosaline in the care of their older children and relatives and immediately returned to Madhu to look after the younger children.
Rosaline was admitted to the Kurunegala hospital for treatment, but after several tests, the doctors revealed that the cancer had spread throughout her body. By then, more than a year had passed since the disease took hold. Though she stayed in the hospital for several weeks, she was eventually sent home as the treatments were no longer effective. Over the following months, she was periodically readmitted to Wariyapola or Kurunegala hospitals, but her condition worsened day by day. Soon, she became bedridden and could no longer speak. After a week or two of further decline, she passed away on January 31, 1993. Rathnasami learned of her death through a telegram sent to the Madhu camp that night.
“That day, I had gone to clear a field with Padmakumar. We were about 15 kilometers to the east of the camp. Around noon, my son pointed to a plane flying overhead and said, ‘Mother is waving from above.’ Later, we saw a flock of birds fly away, and he began crying, saying, ‘Mother is gone, the birds are gone.’ When I saw the telegram, it reminded me of that moment,” Rathnasami shared, his voice filled with sorrow.
Denied Permission to Attend the Funeral
After Rosaline was sent to Kurunegala, the LTTE had only allowed Rathnasami to visit her once. Rosaline’s brother-in-law, who worked as a driver for an aid organization, traveled to Colombo every 15 days. During these trips, he visited Rosaline, reporting her condition to the family and other relatives. On one such visit, he learned that Rosaline had passed away and her funeral was to take place that very day. In a rush, he went to the cemetery, where he only managed to see the relatives returning after laying her to rest. After paying his final respects, he returned home and informed the rest of the family. The funeral had been delayed for several days, hoping Rathnasami and the children could attend, but as the body could only be preserved for a limited time, they proceeded without them.
Despite multiple requests, the LTTE leadership refused to grant permission for Rathnasami and his family to attend the funeral. It was only after several days and the intervention of a local priest that they were finally given permission. By that time, 16 days had passed since Rosaline’s death.
Returning to Kumankulam from the Camp
After spending two years in the refugee camp, Rathnasami’s family was finally granted their freedom. However, when they returned to their village, everything was destroyed. They had lost everything except their lives and the land they once owned. They had to start their lives over again from scratch.
For Rathnasami, this challenge was even more painful and difficult compared to others. His children had missed two years of schooling, and he was now left alone with five young children, knowing only that his three older children were safe and settled. He had to manage all household chores, farming, and raising the children by himself. Understanding her father’s situation, Shanthi, the eldest daughter, quit school after a few days to help with household chores.
Reuniting with His Children
A year later, Rathnasami’s second son returned home to Vavuniya, seeking to marry his Sinhala girlfriend. Shortly after, Rathnasami, along with one of his daughters, this son and his fiancée visited his other sons in Wariyapola.
Eventually, his other two sons also sought to marry Sinhala women. However, their marriages faced obstacles from both sides due to their Tamil ethnicity and father’s residence in the north. Rathnasami revealed that his three sons eventually adopted Sinhala identities and names to protect their children.
“Did you visit your sons after that?” we asked.
“I went several times. The second one visited us here a few times too, but the others couldn’t come. Since they only spoke Sinhala, they weren’t allowed past the checkpoints,” he said.
“What about the younger children? Did they meet their older siblings?”
“Yes, Rosaline took the two younger daughters and Shivakumar to their grandfather’s funeral, and that’s when they saw their older brothers. It was in January 1990. After we returned from the refugee camp, I took the three daughters there several times. They had a chance to meet their brothers then. Since they stayed for a few days, the younger ones even picked up some Sinhala. But except for the second son, the others still couldn’t speak Tamil.”
“Did all the children meet together at any point?” I asked.
“They did. It’s quite a remarkable story. After the war ended, I wrote letters, made calls and even visited them few times. About two years later, one evening, I got news that someone was from Wariyapola was wandering looking for some relatives. Since no one else had any relatives there, I thought it must be one of ours. So, my son and I hurried there. It turned out to be Rosaline’s youngest brother, who had come looking for us after a family dispute. A few months later, he came back for Vesak Poya with his eldest daughter and stayed with us for a week. From that point, our ties were renewed.”
“Then, after two weeks, I went there myself. A week later, I got a call saying that my second son’s eldest son had died in an accident. He was a brilliant child and was my eldest grandson. I cried. I had only seen him a few times since he was born. We went in two buses to attend the funeral.”
It was an emotional occasion. While many relatives came to mourn the lost child, it also became a moment where the three older brothers reunited with their younger siblings. After years of separation, they were brought together by the tragic funeral of their nephew. Despite the sorrow of the occasion, the siblings embraced one another, shedding tears of joy. The only one missing was Padmakumar, who was abroad at the time.
As Rathnasami watched his children embrace and share their stories, he was filled with immense joy, despite the language barriers that remained. He had to translate their thoughts and words between them, as some could only speak Sinhala and others Tamil. However, they introduced their own children to each other, and despite the circumstances, it was a moment of togetherness.
“How did you meet Padmakumar later?” we asked.
“A few months after the funeral, my brother Arunachalam’s eldest daughter had a wedding. I personally went to Wariyapola and invited all the relatives, telling them to come before the wedding day. Padmakumar had returned to the country a few days by then. I only told him a group was coming, but I didn’t say who. I didn’t tell the older sons that Padmakumar was here either. I wanted to surprise them.”
“Did they recognize each other?” we asked.
“Of course. They say blood recognizes blood. As soon as Weerakumar and Premakumar arrived near the van, they had a feeling it was Padmakumar. Shivakumar and the others thought it was just another relative of mine. But those two knew right away. They asked him, ‘Is Rathnasami your father?’ Padmakumar was shy, but they both hugged him tightly, speaking the little Tamil they knew. Their children had learned Tamil in school, so they spoke to each other as ‘big brother’ and ‘little brother.’ Even though Padmakumar couldn’t speak Sinhala well, he embraced them with all his heart.”
Padmakumar had only seen his second brother as a child but hadn’t met the others at all. That was the first time they had all met.
“Later, I took Padmakumar with me to the three-month almsgiving for my grandson. He saw the second brother again there, and they both embraced and cried, just like before.”
A Father’s Dream
Although Rathnasami’s children reunited, he still held a deeper wish, which he shared with us as he led us to his sisters’ homes.
“I never got the chance, not even for one day, to have all five sons and three daughters together under one roof with my wife and me. The only time all of them were in one place was during Padmakumar’s wedding, but I still long to spend just one normal day with all of them and my grandchildren. But where is the chance for that? One of them is always missing. I don’t know what curse we are under for our family to be separated like this.”
It was a heartfelt wish of a father, one that now rested with his children to fulfill.
As we mentioned before, both Rathnasami and Rosaline’s parents, as well as their siblings, were involved in Sinhala-Tamil intermarriages. Now, Rathnasami’s children are the divided by ethnicity and religion, with some living as Sinhala Buddhists and others as Tamil Hindus. Rathnasami’s three eldest sons changed their identities to shield their children from the difficulties they faced in their youth. Those living in the north preserved their Tamil identity.
Why did members of one family, in the same country, have to be divided by two ethnicities and two religions? It was a result of a mistake in history. Though 15 years have passed since the end of the war, has that error been rectified?
We leave you with that question.
Written and Photographed by Pushpa Weerasekara
