By Eelaththu Nilavan
(Tamil Genocide: A Cry Buried in Chemmani)
Does the wind carry the scent of jasmine—
or is it the burnt flesh of a mass grave?
Beneath this soil, a voice still echoes:
“Why? Why was I buried without a name?”
Who was he?
A student? A son? A dreamer of poems?
Clutching a UNICEF school bag,
he walked into the mouth of murder—
and became a “Three Feet Terrorist” in their files.
His bones unearthed not by time but by tyranny.
Not ancient relics—
but fresh flesh torn from a Tamil child.
Killed, buried, and forgotten—
but not erased.
The Chemmani soil weeps silently
as spades tear secrets from its heart.
Mothers cry no more—
they have learned to scream in silence.
Father, then son.
Then daughter. Then little Balachandran.
Did the monsoon rains wash away the blood?
Did the world watch in polite silence
as innocence was carved into corpses?
There are no wounds on the crucifix here.
Here, the Tamil body is the crucifix.
Faceless skulls speak to us:
“Our silence is the only voice you left behind.”
They called it “counter-terrorism.”
They called it “national security.”
But how does a schoolbag become a bomb?
How does a mother’s black-thread charm
become a weapon?
A three-foot child with a pencil in his hand
was marked as a threat to the state.
Not because of what he did—
but because of what he was: a Tamil.
❖.To the World:
This was not war—it was genocide.
This was not defense—it was racial extermination.
This was not a claim—it is the earth’s truth
whispered by bones, screamed by the dead.
Each grave in Chemmani
is not just evidence—
It is a gospel written in soil
against the sins of silence.
They buried him with his little bag—
perhaps with a broken lunchbox,
perhaps a half-written notebook still stained with fear.
And they called him a terrorist,
without trial, without truth.
❖.Let the World Hear:
This is not a poem.
This is a recovered voice.
This is justice clawing through dirt.
This is a Tamil heartbeat resurrected in verse.
❖ Eelaththu Nilavan ❖
29/06/2025
The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Amizhthu’s editorial stance.
