Iranganie Serasingha has her
doubts, and not without reason. In our country’s cultural sphere, she has
occupied a formidable place. As the idealized and true-to-life archetypal
mother figure in film after film, she has occupied a place in our cultural
subconscious as well. Ever since she participated in her school’s production
of Pygmalion, many things have changed, but some have remained. There is
her stage-fright, for instance, which she tells me never really left her. There
is her allegiance to naturalistic acting, enforced by fruitful years spent at
the School of Speech Training and Dramatic Art in London, which in the days of
melodrama and overacting was practically outlawed. And, perhaps more
pertinently to her personal life, there is her “greatest passion” – “Ruk
Rakaganno”, her own initiative founded to aid nature preservation in our land.
For those of us who love
nature, the modern world has become a savage beast. It is to people like Mrs.
Serasinghe, whose passion has not ebbed away, that we owe a token of gratitude.
Running down memory lane, she recounted the first time she witnessed
whole-scale destruction of nature – during the 1930s, when vast tracts of land
were being deforested for land resettlement schemes. This was something which,
sadly, persisted even after independence, a motif that threads Lankan history
ever since colonialism and its petty regard for the environment invaded our
land.
But Mrs. Serasinghe is not
one to dwell on the past without acknowledging its relevance to the present.
“There were much less people here during our ancestors’ time,” she gently
observes. Which meant that the vicious cycle of deforestation and land-burning
was less unsustainable then. People did burn to cultivate land, but all too
often there was room for growth and regeneration – in all, a much healthier
relationship between man and nature subsisted then. This is also to say that
our ancestors kept a more meaningful, pragmatic approach to the land.
Somewhere down the line,
however, things changed. The biggest change, she argues, was the refusal to
view nature as an interconnected whole. “When one part of nature is affected
badly, the others begin to wither away as well,” she remarks, making a
succinct observation on the unyielding harmony of ecosystems. “It is like a
domino effect,” she adds as an afterthought. Indeed, a domino effect that
never seems to die down, especially in our time. “It is not a very happy state
of affairs.” How does she view this entire conundrum personally? “Human beings
are so selfish.” A sentence that has become so clichéd that, I suspect, it
could make its way to countless history books. And yet, how devastatingly true
it still sounds.
On her own, Mrs.
Serasinghe has taken a pragmatic stand on this sordid affair. “Ruk Rakaganno”
is one of many grass-roots initiatives started for the benefit of nature
preservation in this country. Preserving trees, of course, is her top priority,
but there are other things just as important as well – like the problems of
poaching and animal killings. This is where taking a pragmatic view has helped.
“We realized that merely
preaching on the demerits of animal hunting to villagers would not be enough,”
she says, “especially if those same animals – mainly elephants – were intruding
on their livelihoods. Instead we worked on a practical solution – we decided to
help them see how preserving our ecosystem would be to their benefit.” This was
where teaching soil erosion prevention methods, water preservation methods, and
sustainable cultivation methods, came in. People, after all, will almost always
help in something if it is to their benefit. Selfishness, a distinct trademark of
our civilisation, can actually be a force for good at times.
For all her rosy reminiscences,
however, I could not help but notice a glum temperament beneath. This was where
the question I had been dying to ask finally asserted itself. “Are you a
pessimist over the way things are going?” Coming from people who had affirmed
their faith and belief that “good things and hope always prevail,” I was a
little disjointed and brought down to earth by her reply – “Yes, I am very
pessimistic.” I was curious to find out what had made her so cynical, and
whether there was absolutely no room for hope.
Prompted by me, she goes on,
and as she elaborates on her cynical outlook, I was little surprised. She
talks of modern civilisation, and its insistence on quick returns over slow
and healthy development. She talks of our subservience to money, and its enslavement
of natural progress. She talks of the futility of man’s selfishness and greed.
And, more pertinent to our country today, she talks of all this being done “in
the name of progress.” It is all too well to speak of development, but not to
the exclusion of man’s intimate respect for and goodwill towards nature.
“Nature ignores man, and she has a right to so do,” she says, “But man cannot
afford to ignore and ravage nature.” How true that sounds.
Listening to her say all
this, I was frankly disheartened. And yet I knew she spoke with honesty and
truth. Having done what she has for our culture and our natural environment for
the greater part of her life, I know she is in the best and most justifiable
position to say all this. One can only hope her outlook is not wholly bleak.
And it isn’t. “We are so blessed with such a beautiful land as this,” she
concludes, “with such a rich and vibrant biodiversity hailed the world over.”
But, she cautions, this isn’t enough. After all, “faith without works is a
useless thing,” as the age-old proverb runs. And, as Iranganie Serasinghe remarks
as a final point, “we must not rest on our laurels.”
Let us hope, most fervently
then, for a better, rosier future, when good things will be done in the name of
progress.
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