Big Match 1983 - Yasmine Gooneratne

Glimpsing the headlines in the newspapers,
tourists scuttle for cover, cancel their options
on rooms with views of temple and holy mountain
‘Flash point in Paradise.’ ‘Racial pot boils over.’
And even the gone away boy
who had hoped to find lost roots, lost lovers,

lost talent even, out among the palms,
makes timely return giving thanks
that Toronto is quite romantic enough for his purposes.

 Powerless this time to shelter or to share

we strive to be objective, try to trace

the match that lit this sacrificial fire

the steps by which we reached this ravaged place.

We talk of ‘Forty-Eight ‘and ‘Fifty-Six’,

of freedom and the treacherous politics

of language; see the first sparks of this hate

fanned into flame in Nineteen Fifty-Eight,

yet find no comfort in our neat solution,

no calm abstraction, and no absolution.

 

The game’s in other hands in any case.1

These fires ring factory, and hovel,

and Big Match fever, flaring high and fast,

has both sides in its grip and promises

dizzier scores than any at the oval.

In a tall house dim with old books and pictures

calm hands quit the clamouring telephone.

 

‘It’s a strange life we’re leading here just now,

not a dull moment. No one can complain

of boredom, that’s for sure. Up all night keeping watch,

and then as curfew ends and your brave lands

dash out at dawn to start another day

of fun, and games, and general jollity,

I send Padmini and the girls to a neighbor’s house.

 

Who, me? – Oh I’m doing fine. I always was

a drinking man you know and nowadays

I’m stepping up my intake quite a bit,

the general idea being that when those torches 

come within fifty feet of this house don’t you see

it won’t be my books that go up first, but me.’

A pause. Then, steady and every bit as clear

as though we are neighbors still as we had been

In Fifty Eight. ‘Thanks, by the way for ringing.

There’s nothing you can do to help us but

it’s good to know some lines haven’t yet been cut.’

 

Out of the palmyrah fences of Jaffna bristle a hundred guns.

Shopfronts in the Pettah, landmarks of our childhood

Curl like old photographs in the flames.

Blood on their khaki uniforms, three boys lie dying;

a crowd looks silently the other way.

Near the wheels of his smashed bicycle

at the corner of Duplication Road a child lies dead

and two policemen look the other way

as a stout man, sweating with fear, falls to his knees

 

beneath a bo-tree in a shower of sticks and stones

flung by his neighbor’s hands.

The joys of childhood, friendships of our youth

ravaged by pieties and politics

screaming across our screens her agony

at last exposed, Sri Lanka burns alive.

 

An Analysis of the Poem “Big Match 1983”

 Novelist, Poet, and critic Yasmine Gooneratne, a graduate of Bishop's college, graduated from the University of Ceylon in 1959 and also received a PhD in English Literature from Cambridge University in 1962. Gooneratne became a resident of Australia in 1972.  She now holds a Personal Chair in English Literature at Macquarie University, which is located in New South Wales.

Yasmine Gooneratne is married to Dr. Brendan Gooneratne who is a physician, environmentalist, and historian. They married in 1962 and now have two children, a son and a daughter, and currently live in Sydney, Australia. 

The poem is a different view point of the ethnic conflict that erupted in Sri Lanka in 1983. The violence of July 1983 was a great historical disaster of Sri Lanka, for the ruling Sinhalese majority conducted an officially sanctioned pogrom against the Tamil minority. 

The poem starts with the media’s report about the ethnic violence in the country.  Disturbance of the general civilian life and the tourist arrivals to view the holy mountains and temples in the country get cancelled. The ordinary public life starts and ends in traumatic fear. “Flash point in paradise” and “racial pot boils over” are the news headlines which echoed all over the world.

The poet may be sarcastic over the sensational situation reported by the media.  An arrival of an expatriate boy in search of his lost roots, lost lovers, lost talents.  he seems to be gripped by the violence and bloodshed. The title itself carries an idea of a popular event in Sri Lanka the big match which happens among the popular schools every year.  

The poet reminiscences over how the ethnic violence first sparks off in the Isle. She goes back to “forty-eight and fifty-six”. But the major political turning point occurs in nineteen fifty-eight by making Sinhala the state language. The politicians fuel the popular sentiments of the citizens and have completely ignored the opinions of the literates in the country. The violence of July 1983 created a sudden uproar, suddenly multitudes were driven out of the country as refugees. The chaos is that the violence was targeted particularly against the Tamils. The commercial centers belonging to them were targeted. Tamils in Sri Lanka were no longer the sons of the soil, they were made paupers who had to flee to save their lives forgetting their heritage and the legacy of their fore fathers.
The poet portrays the unforgettable historical tragic incident comparing with big match cricket. This may be to show the fact that people enjoy cruelty when hurting others in the same spirit as they welcome big match cricket in Sri Lanka.

As the over excited young boys take to streets with great enthusiasm which sometimes even the adults ignore to consider it with seriousness during the big match season, the ethnic violence seems to be on disastrous while the authorities pay a blind eye over what is happening under their nose. She expresses that the violence has reached the unprecedented proportions than the highest runs scored in a game of cricket at the oval grounds.

The fourth stanza spotlights one isolated incident where an old man living “in a tall house  with old books and pictures” is answering the phone. The words of the old man are packed with razor sharp sarcasm and insult over what is happening at the time. The caller is far away from the country. The old man seems to be ripped by the fearful incidents. Even then the old man doesn’t seem to lose his sense of humor. He says life is full of unexpected twists and turns which drive away the boredom and monotony. He calls the mobs the “brave lads”.

No sooner the curfew is lifted they are back on the street as if they enjoy every bit of what they are doing.  It is a normal thing to happen and the old man says that he sends away his loved ones to a neighbor’s home for safe.  But he is ready to fight back and save his valuable books which he thinks are more important than his own life. He chases away his nervousness and anxiety in liquor which he takes more than usual. He humbly thanks the caller in an unruffled voice for his concern over the wellbeing of him and his family.

The sixth stanza illustrates some inhuman circumstances which is common during the period of ethnic violence in Sri Lanka. The brutal killings of unarmed innocent civilians and the destruction of valuable property.  The telephone conversation concluded with heart pouring gratitude and he was surprised over the communication network which was still uninterrupted.  For when the violence broke out most of the telecommunication lines were damaged and the civil life literally came to a standstill.

Jaffna, once a land of beautiful landscape has been turned into a battle ground. The poetess laments that“…landmarks of our childhood / curl like old photographs in the flames” Dead bodies lying on the road and the indifferent attitude of law.

The last two lines of the seventh stanza bring out the most fearful and gruesome nature of the killing which was unleashed on the Tamils in the country. It was a cruel ironic to see a man being beaten to death under a Bo-tree  a symbol of nonviolence while pleading for his life. This leaves lot of questions than answers. The last stanza sums up the whole scenario with a reference to the non-acceptable selfish politics which seem to have butchered the calm and peaceful life style of Sri Lanka.

The poetic techniques in the poem

 Metaphor

The title itself is a metaphor. The poet tries to convey the message that the people derive a sadistic pleasure in being involved in violence. The line “and Big match fever, flaring high and fast, has both sides in its grip” gives a visual of  how intense and sensitive the situation is. The “match” can also be associated with fire. The racial inequality seems to be the root cause which could possibly be represented by a big match stick.

Irony

Irony is a poetic device which surfaces at certain points in the poem. “Three boys lie dying a crowd looks silently the other way” magnifies the indifference and the ignorant and hatred attitudes of the majority towards minority.

Imagery The poet uses very strong images to highlight certain thematic motifs. “a Bo-tree” in the seventh stanza is a very important image to express that even the religion pays a blind eye and it is shocking to note that the religion itself is a contributory factor in pushing the country into this unimaginable destruction.

CONCLUSIONS

human rights violation, political power, terrorism who demands separate state butchered the nation. The agony and anguish of the nation was exposed to the world through the literary works. In spite of international involvement, peace and equality is a farfetched dream. Her poetry might act as a great messenger of peace  and harmony would bring peace to the war ravaged country.

Thank you