The tragedy of terrorism and conflict has served as a crucible for literary and artistic creativity throughout the ages and all over the world. So has it been in modern Sri Lanka – in poetry, plays, short stories and novels in Sinhala, Tamil and English. Rohini Hensman's novel Playing Lions & Tigers is a saga of the interlaced lives of 14 men, women and children caught up in the maelstrom of Sri Lanka's political violence. It unfolds through three generations against the larger canvas of the country's recent political history, and ends on a note of hope.
The book was first published in 2004, another period of 'no war, no peace' in Sri Lanka. At that time, the Ceasefire Agreement of 2002, controversial and flawed as it was, remained in force, monitored by a Scandinavian-staffed mission. On 26 December 2004, the elemental forces of nature unleashed a blow – the tsunami – affecting all ethnic and religious groups. In Aceh, the tragedy caused by the same storm pushed the Indonesian government and the Free Aceh Movement (GAM) to conclude a peace agreement. In Sri Lanka, similar hopes sparkled and then faded.
Ironically, the second edition of Playing Lions & Tigers comes out at a time of renewed hope for a durable peace finally overcoming the toxic legacy of the immediate past. The decisive military defeat of the LTTE has led to widespread expectations of peace, the rule of law, an end to impunity and the full realisation of democracy and human rights for all citizens. However, the detention of approximately 250,000 internally displaced persons for months, persistent violations of human rights, and stringent restrictions on democratic liberties remain as obstacles. Meanwhile, power-sharing continues to be debated with undiminished virulence.
The 14 characters in Hensman's novel represent ordinary citizens of diverse ethnicities and religions. They want only that the democratic system they have known since independence continue to afford them the framework to pursue peaceful lives in freedom, equality and dignity. Political terrorism from the south and the north, and efforts to curb this by the security forces and the Indian Army, has a brutal impact on their lives. They are the people in between, in whose name political creeds are preached and practised. Emigration and death are the only escape routes. A macabre death dance has gone on with masks and stereotyped roles, from which education, development and new moral leadership are seen as the viable ways of the future.