https://www.facebook.com/423494574171203/

Rajesh Photography, Colombo (2026)

17/10/2025

(Conversation between a tea plucker and me)

Me: Where do you buy tea powder to drink tea?
Tea plucker (She): They give it at the estate office.

Me: Do they deduct it from your monthly salary?
Tea plucker: No, not at all. They just give one kilogram.

Me: Is that enough for the whole month?
Tea plucker: No, the tea powder runs out before the month ends. We drink tea morning and evening, and we take it to work too. So we can't use it for the whole month. When it runs out, we buy it from the shop.

Me: What kind of tea do you drink?
Tea plucker: I don't know what kind.

Me: Do you know the name of that tea powder?
Tea plucker: They call it "Dust."

Me: Do you know what different types of tea powder are made from the leaves you pluck?
Tea plucker: I know one or two types.

Me: Have you seen them?
Tea plucker: No.

Me: Have you ever drunk any of them?
(She laughs)

Me: Do you want to try drinking it?
(She laughs again)

Over 20 varieties of tea powder are produced in Sri Lanka by exploiting the labor of Malaiyaham plantation workers.
Among these, up to 16 varieties of tea powder are graded as high quality, while the rest are graded as lower quality, according to J.A. Elias, a retired factory manager of an estate (Badulla).

Among these high-quality—expensive tea powders, not a single plantation worker would have ever tasted even one variety. Except for those working in the factory, no tea leaf-plucking worker would have even seen these high-quality tea powders.

Lower-grade Dust 2 tea powder is what is provided to plantation workers. However, Elias argues that instead of Dust 2, workers could be given Dust 1.

He also states that although he has made this request to the management on several occasions, they have refused it. However, Elias says that trade unions could include this matter in the collective agreement and reach an agreement with the employers' federation.

During trade union meetings, I have been urging workers to insist on including this matter in the collective agreement. They have done so as well. Elias says that the trade unions not yet taken any action on this matter.

Second image: Dust 2 tea powder
Third image: Dust 1 tea powder

09/09/2025

September 9, 1990, 5.30 pm. Armed men clad in military uniform and civilian clothes instruct people from Sathurukondan, Kokkuvil, Pachchaiyadi and Pillayaradi to come out to the road. They are taken to the Bois Town military camp nearby with the assurance that they will be released after questioning. They were mostly the elderly, women and children. None of them returned to their homes. In total, 184 individuals were massacred.

The outside world gets to know of the Sathurukondan massacre from a survivor, Iraththinaiya, who managed to escape death by hiding among the reeds along the riverbank, a quarter of a mile from the camp.

"Seven army soldiers came towards us asking us to stop at the junction where the memorial is now built. I realised that I cannot escape them. I removed the slippers from my feet and got down into the dried up lake that Reeds (சாப்பைப்புல்) had grown – like a jungle. I thought that if I continue to crawl like this the reeds would injure my hands and legs. So I attached one slipper to my knee and the other to my hand and crawled towards a tree (வம்மி மரம்). I stayed all night until 7am the next day, hiding in the marshland.

The military surrounded the people and took them to the ‘Bois Town’ camp through the main road. Later I heard screams “Enda Appo… Enda Aiyo…” which went on, until 9 in the night.

I heard these sounds as I was hiding along with three females (my wife and children), in the grown reeds near the lake. It would have been a quarter of a mile away- the people were screaming “Enda Appo… Enda Aiyo…” There was thick black smoke which rose, like smoke from a train. It was smoke from a burning tire. I do not know what happened after that.

My mother, father, daughters - Sasikala, Premila, son – Suthakaran, and Kanthan, Jeyakkutty, Nesam, Thampippillai, Rasiah…. There are eight people in my family who I lost - Nine with that boy. Ponnuthurai was tenth, Nelliah was eleventh… They also dragged away a mother, daughter and a father from another house."

# # #

A short film (with English sub) documenting the through the experiences of witnesses and survivors.

35 years since it happened, no one has been held accountable for it.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7F41ZxRORUI

01/09/2025

“During the last stages of the war, we handed our family over to the Army ourselves – my two younger brothers, aged 27 and 29 years, and my 30-year-old husband. Believing that they would question them and then release them shortly, we got into the bus and went to the IDP camp. At that time, I was 7 months pregnant with my second child (a daughter). My father said, “We can’t wait here without food or drink, let’s go back. They’ll return soon.”

They still haven’t come back. We have had to submit their documents to so many Commissions of Inquiry, and each time it costs us Rs. 300 or Rs. 400. They ask us who we handed our family over to, if we remember any names, and if we can remember any medals or symbols they were wearing. At that time we didn’t even have clothes to change into. We were going through such hardship, so how can we be expected to remember all these details?

Instead of making us search all this time, they should tell us whether our loved ones are alive or not. My children are always asking for their father. My daughter is now 16, and she still hasn’t seen her father. My son is 19. Whenever there is an event at school, he always sings about his father. They ask me if I have his phone number. If I die without finding my husband, I can manage. But at least if they can find one of my brothers, my mother and father can die at peace.

People who remember those who were lost in Mullivaikkal will remember in a month, 6 months, or a year. For us, we remember our family every day with sadness, and we will do so until we die. I still wear my pottu and wedding thali, thinking that I will see my husband again. My mother and father give me courage to keep going. If not for them I don’t know what I would do.”

25/05/2025

“This house was always lively. When he was around, the radio would be playing loudly. Many people would come and go to see my son. Now, no one even peeks in... to check if we're alive or not. That's what hurts me. When my child was here, everyone would come, saying, "Do this, do that." Now there's nothing. It seems like no one even knows if Tharshan's mother is still alive...

How much he must have struggled working for Eelanatham. He lost his fingers in the machine. Initially, he only worked at night. Later, they removed him from work because they said his son was not a fighter. Then, when they had no staff, they took him back. In the end, he worked until my son died...

My child carried so many people. I couldn't even carry my own child. I just left him there and came away. My child, who carried others around to protect them... In the end, this God didn't save my child. He gave water to so many wounded people, but for him, I couldn't even give water or carry him...

I was wounded first, and my child carried me around, saying, "Mother, don't cry... Mother, don't cry..." I left him like a dog and came away, my child...

If there had been another child, it would have been better. I left my only child on the road and came away. He could have taken us, who are now destitute, with him. If he had married at the right time, there would have been at least one grandchild...

Looking at this picture makes my heart burst... All the gods I prayed to have gone somewhere, taking my child and leaving us like this…”

Sivatharshan, who worked part-time as a page designer for the 'Eelanatham' newspaper, later joined as a full-time employee due to staff shortages. During the final stages of the war, Sivatharshan and a few other employees continuously relocated the printing location. At one point, they set up a generator in one container vehicle, a printing machine in another container vehicle, and computers in yet another container vehicle to continue printing the newspaper.

Later, as some employees lost their lives and others were displaced, Sivatharshan and a few others had to dedicate themselves completely to printing the newspaper. He devoted all his time to publishing the 4-page newspaper until the first week of May.

In the end, when it became impossible to continue, Sivatharshan was relocating with his mother to the army-controlled area when he was shot and lost his life. As the wounded Mrs. Sankarasivam was brought to the army-controlled area by others, she couldn't even see Sivatharshan's body.

24/05/2025

Remembering the dead is a cultural event. In another sense, it is also a religious belief. It is the cultural right of all relatives who believe that the souls of the dead should find peace. Therefore, it is also a political right.

23/05/2025

At midnight, on April 21, 1989 there was a knock on the door. We did not open. The enraged soldiers kicked the door with their feet. The door broke. He (husband) was asleep in bed at the time. Those who came into the house asked where Ranjith was. He answered "yes", they say, "we want to get a confession from you. Come with us ... ” They threatened to shoot me and the children if I left the house. At the time one child was 6 months old and the other was one and a half years old. We stayed indoors until dawn. At dawn, someone came and told me that the body of someone who had been shot was lying at the junction. I went and looked. It was my husband. They had shot him.

All inquiries were over and I kept my husband's body at home. Soldiers arrived at midnight that day. They took the Petromax lamp hanging outside and set the house on fire. The house immediately caught on fire because of the thatched roof. I picked up both my children and ran outside to escape. We brought the fire under control as soon as they left - but I could not save my husband's body - it was half burnt. The neighbors had buried my husband's body. I returned home after filing a complaint with the police - I could not even see him.

- Rupa Aananthagoda -

She was 21 years old at the time of the incident. The husband was 29 years old.

Ranjith was one of the many thousands of young men and women who were exterminated by extra judicial means during the United National Party government’s crackdown on Marxist rebels from 1988 - 1990. Figures range from between 30,000 and 60,000. Several thousands more disappeared and still have not been found.

20/05/2025

Dhana Lakshmi (67 years)
Mullaitivu

I might have been happy. My beloved son. How would he have looked after me? I have walked on every road in search of him. This heart will be beating until he returns. Even if the clock were to stop, my heart would be beating until his return.

Diyali Liyanage Preyasinghe (82 years)
Gall

What is the use of talking about it? He was my only son. He was just 21. He was woken up from his sleep and taken away. He was blindfolded using a piece of cloth torn from the sarong he was wearing. My son said that he would come back. 30 years have passed by and he did not return. He (husband) became sick and died thinking of his son. I am the only one who is left now, I keep talking to his picture in that deserted house.

August 2019

Tamil article: https://maatram.org/articles/8065
English article: https://groundviews.org/2019/09/04/one-question-two-people-a-shared-pain/

09/05/2025

09 May 2022

07/05/2025

One-year period between April 1st 2016 and March 30th 2017,
* CWC received Rs. 77,751,933 as membership fees from workers.
* Ceylon National Estate Workers Union received Rs. 22,437,558.53
* National Union for Workers received Rs. 34, 524, 328.41

21/04/2025

On Easter Sunday I took my son and my youngest sister at 7.30am to church for Sunday School and I left them there. I bought them breakfast as well. I came back after leaving them there. Afterwards I left home around 9 am, and was on my way to church. I was travelling along the Kalladi bridge when I heard a loud noise. I did not know what had happened. But when I reached the church, I saw it in flames. I could not go inside. I went to the back and jumped over the wall and entered the premises.

I saw everyone scattered. On one side the church was burning. I was anxious. I did not know where my son was. I looked for him but I could not find him.
I looked for him everywhere. The incident happened at 9.03.

I looked for him till 12.30pm. But I could not find him. I was among those who helped to load the bodies. There were around 10 to 11 children who were burnt to the point that they could not be identified. One of the bodies was that of my son. I did not see him. I finally identified him by the underwear he was wearing. It had a brown piece by which I identified him. I could not control my grief.

Six members of my family were affected. Three have died. Out of the other three, only one has completely recovered and is at home. The daughter of my younger sister has lost both her parents and her eye sight. My youngest sister had to have metal plates fixed to her legs. Her entire body has burnt injuries. She is still undergoing treatment.

A documentary of the heart wrenching stories of Vel Arasaratnam and Jeevanantham - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vF96QiCPGsk

Rajesh Photography

17/10/2025

09/09/2025

01/09/2025

25/05/2025

24/05/2025

23/05/2025

20/05/2025

09/05/2025

07/05/2025

21/04/2025

Address

Website

Alerts

Shortcuts

Share

Category