Echoes of a Forgotten Horror: Sri Lanka's Dark November, 1985

Forty years, already? It feels like another lifetime, another world, and yet the echoes of November 1985 in Sri Lanka, they linger, don't they? That month, in particular, carved out a brutal chapter, one etched deeply, irrevocably, into the island nation's already troubled narrative. It was a time when — let's be honest — the very fabric of society seemed to tear, revealing raw, visceral conflict.

Reports filtering out then, they spoke of horrors almost unspeakable: widespread killings, particularly in the eastern province. We heard of security forces, yes, but also of a relentless brutality that seemed to target innocent Tamil civilians. Imagine, if you will, villages like Komari and Tirukovil—names that might not resonate with everyone today, but back then, they became synonyms for fear, for loss. Houses weren't just damaged; they were burnt to ash, livelihoods extinguished in a puff of smoke, people — so many people — simply vanished, or worse, found dead.

And the truth? Well, that was as elusive as peace itself, wasn't it? The official line from Colombo, for instance, often painted a very different picture, attributing the violence to what they called 'Tamil terrorists.' A convenient narrative, perhaps, but one that starkly contradicted the desperate accounts of refugees, of survivors who had seen, felt, lived the nightmare firsthand. It was a classic case, really, of 'he said, she said,' but with blood on the ground, so much blood.

Naturally, India, just a short hop across the Palk Strait, couldn't, or rather, wouldn't, remain a silent spectator. New Delhi expressed deep concern, quite publicly actually, even pushing for a thorough investigation. It was a delicate dance, of course, given the complexities of regional diplomacy and the recently collapsed Thimphu peace talks. Those talks, you could say, had held a flicker of hope, a fragile promise of resolution, only to dissolve, leaving behind an even more volatile landscape. The failure, honestly, just fanned the flames further.

Looking back now, with the benefit of hindsight — and, dare I say, the burden of memory — November 1985 stands as a stark testament to the human cost of ethnic strife, of unresolved political grievances. It's a reminder, too, that history, messy and complicated as it often is, demands our attention. We must remember these chapters, painful though they may be, if only to truly understand the long, winding path Sri Lanka has walked, and indeed, continues to walk. Because, in truth, some wounds, they just take a very, very long time to heal.