THERE IS SOMETHING I HAVE TO TELL YOU
Sri Lanka’s post-independence history is overshadowed by one type of historical story: the story of unheard and silent people resorting to violence to be heard and trying to be loud enough to draw a response from those in positions of power who refuse to see the desperation of their existence.
Everyone loves a secret. There is Something I have to Tell You, the tantalising title of Madhubhashini Ratnayake’s novel is a narrative that from the opening chapter to the end keeps you in suspense and intrigues you as you discover more and more secrets and hidden tales.
Madhu’s literary journey began in her childhood, when she wrote poems that were then published in the Ladies’ College school magazine. Since then as she started writing short stories, she has come to occupy a prominent place in the Sri Lankan literary scene.
Today I have the privilege of introducing her 1st novel which began as a part of her masters thesis. She then worked on it for 2 years and There is Something I have to Tell You, which won the Gratiaen Prize 2011 in manuscript form is launched as a published novel.
This novel reflects sustained research and substantial knowledge in a quest to unveil the complexities of a turbulent period in Sri Lanka’s political history. But if you think that the novel is a political treatise or a mere commentary of the events of the JVP era of 1989/1990, then you are mistaken. What Madhu powerfully relates in her narrative is the human story, the “secrets” and unspoken thoughts which determine our lives and make us who we are. Often we store up these thoughts, these memories, for years, even a lifetime, and may never find the opportunity or denied the chance for them to be told.
Through the stories that are revealed through the 6 characters, the novel inscribes linkages between past and present, between the personal and the political, be- tween the elite and the underclass, providing a way of understanding how these relationships ave shaped and continue to shape the society we live in. The young characters, who forge lasting bonds, are interconnected despite their social backgrounds and political allegiances. They love, hate, laugh and cry with each other and are bonded by their mutual desire for justice. Madhu focuses on the complex ways in which these desires intertwine with their efforts to find stable identities and meaningful places within their society. But as the novel points out “[w]hen no one listens, violence is the only thing loud enough to be heard” and tragically, as Ramya Jeerasinghe states: “Sri Lanka’s post-independence history is overshadowed by one type of historical story: the story of unheard and silent people resorting to violence to be heard and trying to be loud enough to draw a response from those in positions of power who refuse to see the desperation of their existence.”
While poignantly capturing the desperation of their existence, Madhu’s strength is that no judgements are cast on the rights or wrongs of their actions, but the reader gains insight into the circumstances that propel her cast to make decisions about how they can articulate their unspoken stories. As a result, the reader is denied a neat- ly packaged fairy tale ending (even though we may seek it), reminding us that real life is replete with ambiguity, uncertainty and confusion. The vicissitudes of the protagonists are shown to be skilfully interwoven with a multiplicity and complexity of personal and political dynamics. And these forces determine how these characters interact with each other and come to terms with the repercussions of their actions or inaction.
I am sincerely thankful to Madhu for placing her trust in me to introduce her first novel to you all and I wish her every success in her writing career and look forward to reading her future works, which I have no doubt, will be as enlightening and profound as There is Something I have to tell you.