This conversation between Ven. Galkande Dhammananda and Ramanusha Poopalarathnam explores themes of reconciliation, deep listening, and mutual understanding between communities in Sri Lanka.
[Ven Dhammananda] Good day, everyone. Today, unexpectedly, our sister, Ramanusha Poopalarathnam, visited us. We have met in various places before and worked together. Ramanusha is now living in Jaffna. During her sudden visit to Colombo, she came to see me. At that time, she suggested we talk about things we could share with the wider community. Welcome, Ramanusha. We’re meeting after a long time, right? How long have you been in Jaffna now?
[Ramanusha] It’s been about one and a half to two years.
[Ven Dhammananda] I think we first met and worked together with the hope of creating a place where everyone in our country could live with love and kindness. Now, we all feel pain over the conflicts and tragedies that have happened between us while living on the same land. We all agree that we don’t want to pass these issues to future generations, right?
Our task is to create a better future. Ramanusha works hard toward that goal. So, Ramanusha, what can you share with us? Your experiences in Jaffna could be very meaningful for Sinhala-speaking communities. Why? Because the stories from Jaffna and Tamil-speaking communities don’t appear in our news often. Here, news comes only when there’s conflict with the police or military. Or maybe there’s news about archaeological disputes. Other than that, it’s almost like the people there don’t exist. So, what can you share with us?
[Ramanusha] Yes, I have many things to share. First, I’d like to briefly share my story. I’m now living in Jaffna after getting married, but earlier, I lived in Colombo for many years. Before that, I was in Trincomalee as a child. Since childhood, I’ve observed the war and ethnic conflicts in this country. Let me tell a small story from the late 1980s. My father worked in a Sinhala village in Trincomalee. We had a very close connection with a Sinhala family there. Back then, I wasn’t fluent in Sinhala. But I saw how our family was very friendly with the Sinhala family. We went on trips together, shared meals, and lived harmoniously. It was so affectionate. I still remember those children calling me “Sudhu Akka” (fair-skinned sister). At first, I didn’t understand why they called me that. I thought, “I’m not fair-skinned; why are they calling me ‘Sudhu Akka’?” Later, I realized they said it out of love.
One day, during that time, I asked my father (I must have been about 13 years old then), “Father, I don’t understand. We’re so friendly with the Sinhala family. We’re so full of love for each other. But despite that, how is it that the Sinhala people and we Tamils are in the middle of a war?” There was war, chaos, and unrest in Trincomalee during those times. Then I asked my father, “How is it possible that while we are so close and friendly, there’s still a war going on in this country?” At that time, my father explained, “Yes, that’s true. On a personal level, we live with so much love and harmony. But even though Sinhala and Tamil people may get along well personally, when it comes to politics, it’s as if we can never understand each other.”
That’s something I want to share now. Even though we lived with so much friendship and love, the issues we face today are because of politics. It has reached a point where Sinhala people from the North and South can’t truly understand one another, and the same is true for us Tamils. But I think now is a good time. An opportunity has come for us to understand each other. I apologize; my Sinhala is a little weak. That’s why I want to express this carefully. I’ve lived in Trincomalee, in Colombo, and now in Jaffna as well. I see myself as someone who carries messages from the North to the South and from the South to the North. This means I can understand the emotions and sentiments on both sides and what they are experiencing. Since I was a child, I’ve been observing the events of this country—the war and the ethnic issues. From a young age, I’ve wanted to work for peace someday. That’s why I pursued a degree in Peace and Conflict Resolution. Later, I obtained an international certification in Nonviolent Communication. For all these years, I’ve been working with you all and with the Walpola Rahula Institute. From both sides—traveling between the North and the South—I’ve always tried to convey positive messages and share good things.
One more thing I want to mention is that sometimes, when I speak about certain matters, it might be difficult for the other side to hear. However, some truths must be told. From a young age, I observed that whenever someone became a President or Prime Minister, or during election times, I’d ask people whom they wanted to win or thought would win. At those times, Tamil people would say, “It doesn’t matter if it’s Ravana or Rama; nothing will change for us.” This was the sentiment—that nothing ever changes for Tamil people. However, in this recent parliamentary election, such words were not heard. Those statements were there during the last Presidential election too, where people believed, “Nothing will ever change for us.” However, I see a small change. I’m only speaking about what I see. This time, I didn’t hear people saying, “What can we do?” Instead, I heard them saying, “What should we do?” In the North, people were talking about choosing the right leaders.
[Ven Dhammananda] I think Ramanusha is delivering a significant message. Those who previously believed that “nothing will ever change for us” are now starting to take responsibility by asking, “What should we do?” Then the South has a big responsibility, doesn’t it? To preserve that trust? So far, the people there never had such trust. They always thought, “It doesn’t matter who comes to power—whether it’s Rama or Ravana.” But now, those who thought that way have responded differently. This brings a significant responsibility to this side. To protect that trust and carry it forward. Isn’t that so? I’d like to highlight that point. Because it’s a very important matter. Another point Ramanusha mentioned is about bringing the perspectives from there to here. I’m reminded of a song by Gunadasa Kapuge about Nadesan’s wife (she was Sinhala). He worked in the police. The two of them fell in love, and after the 1983 riots, they moved to Jaffna. After that, they continued living there. This beautiful love story is captured in a song by Gunadasa Kapuge. The song asks, “Can you translate the grievances of those people to this side?”
Ramanusha, you have lived here and understood this place, and you also understand Jaffna. The work of bringing the ideas here is important because they don’t naturally come. Similarly, I believe the ideas from here rarely reach there. Sometimes, people in Jaffna know more about Tamil Nadu than about the South. We have a great responsibility to share and understand the pain felt on both sides. There is a change happening. A new generation is emerging. From my perspective, there’s a similar change happening in the South.
If we look at the previous presidential election, not this one, fear was used in a very destructive way—not targeting Tamils but the Muslim community—by spreading lies about “sterilization pills.” Next, they accused a doctor named Shafi of sterilizing mothers. But people understood. They realized all of this was false, created to scare them and secure votes. Some of those who tried to spread that message even contested in this election, but people completely rejected them. I see the North and South reaching a certain common ground—not through mutual understanding, but by each side coming to their own conclusions. We have an important task ahead: building connections between these two sides. This message must reach the North. In the South, we’ve seen a shift—people are rejecting those who fuel nationalism and claim to protect ethnicity. A new generation has emerged with a different way of thinking. I believe the same is happening in the North.
[Ramanusha] Absolutely!
[Ven Dhammananda] I ask you, too, to take this message to the North when you visit here and see what’s happening. So, what else can we share in this short discussion? Let’s meet again soon.
[Ramanusha] Of course. There are many thoughts I have to share. Some are my personal opinions, so I can’t say they represent everything, but I take responsibility for them. I believe both the South and the North have their own stories. Each side holds narratives that they tell themselves. One story exists on this side, and another story exists on that side. Through these stories, we find comfort, but we also see the other side as “terrorists.” Or we use words like “state terrorists” or “genocide” to keep holding onto our pain instead of addressing it.
But we need to think about understanding our pain instead of just holding onto it. This is similar to the Buddhist concept of “dukkha” (suffering), which isn’t just about enduring pain. Suffering teaches us lessons and provides opportunities for growth and understanding. Pain is universal. It’s the same for everyone. That’s why we must open ourselves up, let go of our prejudices and judgments, and make room for understanding.
It’s okay to acknowledge some truths. Let’s put them out in the open and have discussions with an open mind. President Anura once said that if we live in unity, half of our problems will disappear. Similarly, nonviolent communication teaches us that if we build relationships with understanding and compassion, many issues can be resolved. For example, think of two friends or a husband and wife—imagine a time when they’re upset with each other. The same applies to our national issues. If the North and South understand each other, we can easily resolve ethnic problems. For a long time, I kept wondering what the solution to these national issues was. We never thought about “connection before solution.”
Even a small mistake can seem huge during bad times. But during good times, even a big mistake can go unnoticed. This is the same with national issues. If the North and South can understand each other, we can resolve these problems more easily. For a long time, I kept wondering what the solution to these national issues was. We never realized it starts with “connection before solution.” Once relationships are built, we can reach a point where people say, “It’s okay, you keep this,” and the other replies, “No, it’s fine, you keep it.”
Right now, the main problem is that both sides remain divided and lack understanding. While staying divided, they keep searching for solutions. There are many systems in the world. When we study them… When I studied peace and conflict resolution, I learned about the Canadian model, the Swiss model, the Indian model, and the power evolution model, among others. Perhaps, we can even create something called a “Sri Lankan model.” There’s potential to come up with innovative solutions. However, instead of rushing toward solutions under pressure, the first step is to build mutual understanding, free from biases. That’s the big challenge we face.
If we can achieve that, we can heal the wounds we’ve suffered. That would be a significant accomplishment. We often think our pain is different from others’ pain. I imagine a day when both sides will cry together, understand each other, and reconcile. I can see that day coming. I don’t know when that will happen. But I believe there’s still a chance for it to happen.
[Ven Dhammananda] If we can truly listen to each other’s stories, both sides can grow. We can understand each other’s pain.
[Ramanusha] Absolutely. To move forward with this process, we need an open mind and mindfulness. We need to focus on the present moment. In the past, things happened as they did, but how do those events feel now? What can we do now? We can’t say to forget the past. Instead, the important question is how we can use the past to heal the wounds that exist now. That’s what I believe is essential.
[Ven Dhammananda] Ramanusha, do you have any ideas about how we should move forward in this direction? If you have something to share, please do.
[Ramanusha] I believe that we’ve already made some sort of beginning. What’s important is what you mentioned about connection. Without connection, analyzing theories and declaring solutions won’t work, right? That’s how I see it. Even the best solution in the world won’t work for Sri Lanka if trust and connection aren’t built. That’s the essential work we need to do. I’m not sure if there’s a reconciliation program like this at the national level.
But even in small groups, we can have honest and meaningful conversations. The truth—bitter or sweet—can be addressed. I’ve lived in Colombo and Trincomalee, and I’ve had many Sinhala friends. However, even with close friendships (like the story my father told), there isn’t enough confidence to discuss political issues openly. However, I feel that now there’s a small opportunity for this.
It doesn’t matter if you’re Sinhala, Muslim, Tamil, or anyone else—just go and share something with others. We call that “deep listening.” Truly listening. The other person might say things that seem wrong to you. Their perspective might be different from yours. But that’s okay. Even if it’s just for 20 minutes, we have so many Sinhala, Tamil, and Muslim friends in this country. One day, we can get together as a group and say, “I’m ready to listen,” and actually listen.
You don’t have to agree with everything that’s said. But through listening, you can start small steps toward understanding. People already have a bit of courage to take these steps. But if we just stick to our own narrative without hearing others, we can’t move forward from where we are.
I admire Thich Nhat Hanh, a Buddhist teacher from Vietnam. He lived through a major war. He always emphasized the importance of understanding. He said that even when there are mistakes and violence, we must still listen deeply. He believed that through listening, we can transform these situations. That’s what Thich Nhat Hanh taught.
We can learn a lot from such ideas. Honestly, in Sri Lanka, we may have misused religion at times. But I believe there’s so much we can learn from religious teachings. The answers are already there, but unfortunately, they have often been used in harmful ways. This is my personal opinion—I can’t say this is the only way things should be.
In South Africa’s transitional justice process, they used the concept of forgiveness. That idea came from Christianity. Similarly, in Sri Lanka, Buddhism offers the concept of loving compassion. The idea of “understanding suffering” is something we can use for reconciliation.
[Ven Dhammananda] This discussion has been very valuable, and Ramanusha has brought up three important points. The first is about not clinging to your own story and being willing to listen to the other person’s story. We can feel secure when we hold onto our own narratives, but it can be difficult to open up to someone else’s perspective. Because, at that point, your own story might be challenged. But if we’re ready to step out of our own narratives and listen to others, we can make progress.
The next point Ramanusha mentioned is deep listening. This is extremely important—deep listening, rooted in compassion and kindness, to truly hear the other person. It involves recognizing the other person’s suffering as if it were your own, treating their pain with the same care. Through this, the concepts from religion can be applied practically. I may not always agree, and my views may change. But I can silently and deeply listen to what you have to say without judgment, fully understanding your perspective, right?
When you finish sharing your story, you’ll feel a sense of relief—and so will I, after sharing mine. This is why deep listening is so important. It’s a path we need to take.
Next, you brought up the teachings of Thich Nhat Hanh. Then, we discussed the Buddhist concept of suffering. What we are really talking about here is suffering. In the North, mothers and families affected by the war experience suffering. Families of soldiers also endure suffering. Even those who are now in power, if you look back 30 years to their experiences, you’ll find immense suffering there too.
I recall the President mentioning in a speech that within his own hearing range, someone shot his mother’s little boy. This is why we need to open ourselves to these stories. Buddhism teaches us to be sensitive to suffering. There are so many religious concepts we can use—not to divide us, but to help us heal one another.
Next, you brought up another important point—the words we use. Words like “genocide” and “terrorist.” These are terms created and used under different circumstances. In the Metta meditation program, I often talk about the word “terrorist.” No child in this world is born as a terrorist. There’s no such thing as a “terrorist child.” An innocent child, born and playing, reaches a point in their life where they pick up a gun or weapon. That is the result of a long and complex process.
Many people are involved in pushing that person into such a situation. So how can we ignore all those factors and label only that individual as a terrorist? In some cases, many people share responsibility for bringing that person to that point. Sometimes, we too might be part of that responsibility in some way. Yet, we consider ourselves good people while labeling them as such.
I believe that if we approach this from a Buddhist perspective, discussing it through the lens of cause and effect, we can understand it much better. I believe there’s now an opportunity to open new conversations. Both the North and the South seem to be in a state where they’re ready for these discussions. What we need to do is work as much as we can. That’s the space I see available for us to act on.
If you have anything to say in conclusion, please share it.
[Ramanusha] Thank you very much. We didn’t plan this conversation in detail, but we’ve managed to discuss so much. I feel like this is a good starting point for us. We’ve become accustomed to fear and darkness. We’ve gotten so used to it that it now feels comfortable. But even thinking about living with hope makes us anxious, fearing that something might go wrong. Still, we need to take a step forward with that hope.
That’s something we need as well. We shouldn’t always think that people are inherently bad. One more thing I’d like to say—some people tend to view others as either the best of the best or the worst of the worst. I don’t think anyone in this world is entirely like that. We often try to make the people we like seem completely good, no matter what. If someone belongs to the side we support, they’re seen as the best. If they’re from the opposing side, they’re seen as the worst. This lack of sensitivity is how we often think.
We label politicians as “bad” or “the absolute worst” or “the absolute best,” but it’s not as simple as that. We can look in the mirror and ask ourselves if we are entirely good. Are there any people who are entirely bad or entirely good? We need to be a little more sensitive. Instead of seeing things as completely right or completely wrong, we need to find a middle ground.
[Ven Dhammananda] Thank you. This discussion wasn’t planned. We started talking and wondered if we should record it. And I think it’s turned out well. When we meet again, let’s have a deeper discussion. Let’s continue this work.
I think both of us managed to do this without stopping, even under challenging circumstances, didn’t we? Given the current situation, I feel we can remain hopeful. And I believe we’ll be able to do even more work. The shared belief on both sides is that this is the world we’ve inherited and the world we must work with. But we should strive to make the world we leave behind better than this one.
[Ramanusha] Absolutely. We cannot allow the next generation to carry forward this racism, pain, conflict, and war. That’s the responsibility we need to take.
[Ven Dhammananda]And we will take that responsibility. With those words from Ramanusha, we will conclude this discussion here. This was recorded at the Saravanamuttu Thangaraja Studio. I think many of you are familiar with the story of Walpola Rahula Thero, who, in the 1930s, became the first monk to attend a university. At a time when there was strong opposition to monks pursuing higher education, it was Saravanamuttu Thangaraja, a school teacher from Jaffna, who helped Walpola Rahula Thero gain admission to the university.
Rahula Thero went on to become a globally renowned scholar, and his first degree from the University of London played a significant role in this. This success was made possible through the support of Saravanamuttu Thangaraja, a Tamil gentleman. So, we have a beautiful past to reflect on. The present may be a bit chaotic, but we must all commit ourselves to building a beautiful future.
With that, thank you very much, Ramanusha.