"War, It's not about what's right. It's about what's left."

Essay by cvaproductions July 2007

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September 7th 19xxMy name, my age, and title; all of this is of little importance. But today I want to tell you my story; a story not just of me, but also those of many all of whom have been conveniently silenced thought death. We often take our lives for granted especially when we're young. We think we're going to live forever. But, from one moment to the next, nobody knows what will happen. A person could be alive and well one moment and dead the next, so why then do young men and women from all around the world willing take up arms during war? As I think this I laugh at myself, not because I find it comical but because I was one of those. Those foolish young men blinded by the fancies, the promises and glorification of war.

At the age of 18 I had thoughtlessly joined the war against terrorism and as a Singhalese it was the only side I had at the time.

Three years had passed and I had done mediocre jobs, mostly office work as I had been ill fit to be out on the so called ‘battlefield’. I say battlefield now but all that changed the moment I was appointed as a major in the ranks. My life which had been on an old neglected book on a shelf had been opened again and rewritten with the many atrocities around me, only this time in the blood of both my people and that of Tamils. My life, which had always been painted in black and white, now knew the raw pain and intensity of that crimson blood as is covered the new pages of my life. The battlefield as I once called it was nothing less than the slaughter house I had...