Of course I told them that I'm not my annai's keeper and you speak to the high and mighty. But you know these newspaper hacks-you were one yourself before you decided to carry the white man's burden by deserting to the British High Commission- they won't take no for an answer.

You know what was worrying the hack pack? No? Well, they know you as one who would open his mouth at the drop of a diphthong. After all being chief spokesman for your head honcho VP (meaning Velupillai Prabhakaran for the benefit of the thousands who would read this) and being a doctor of sorts (PhD and all that) in addition to being chief negotiator of the LTTE to talks which are still being talked about, I told them it was natural that you should shoot from the lip.

That's fine said the Sinhale Urumaya types, but then why is he not talking, why has he gone off the radar screen for so long. They think you are sick- I mean of all these MoUs and other miserable agreements, written and verbal, and the resistance to you in the Eastern Province. So now you and colleagues are getting ready to let slip the dogs of war, a la 1995.

So while they were looking for you here and looking for you there, one rag came up with the answer that your deafening silence had nothing whatsoever to do with the call to battle. It was much more mundane than that.

According to those who have been digging into the garbage you have been busy escorting your mother-in-law who has come all the way from Down Under to see the sights of Mother England.

Most people with mothers-in-law would have taken a long and extended hike at the first signs of the arrival of such family. But being the dutiful son-in-law you appear to have taken time off from your onerous tasks and even kept the Nordic negotiating types waiting to show your mother-in-law the Big Ben, the Millennium Dome and Blair's lair at No 10. How very nice of you Bala annai.

The last time I heard of a great Aussie setting foot in this country was when "Crocodile" Dundee turned up wearing a bush hat and bearing a great big serrated knife that scared the daylights out of some mugger down a Piccadilly subway.

That was in a movie of course, but could your mum-in-law in any way be related to that great Australian with the funny accent? My, she must be proud of dear Adele and you, struggling as you are against discrimination and denial of human rights.

Cynics might scoff and say that the only thing you are struggling against is the weight of the money bags-funds collected the other day in Geneva from hapless families who are told to cough up or else.

But Bala annai, you just ignore them. They say these things because you have a PhD and can come in your own seaplane and land at Iranamadu while they have to fly economy on SriLankan.

If I could meet your mother-in-law I would tell her that she could learn a lot from her beloved daughter and the man she married.

For instance, when your ma-in-law goes back home to Kangaroo country she could well lead a movement to halt discrimination against the indigenous aboriginals and win back their lands and the rights stolen from them.

She could become as famous as Pauline Hanson the guiding light of the One Nation party who wanted to see Asians in Australia returned to their original homelands or some such silly thing.

Hanson, a fish and chips shop owner had more chips on her shoulders than she had in her shop. Why, dear annai, do you know that she demanded that all Asian criminals be deported. What if she had wanted even the descendents of criminals deported. Then half of the Australian population would have ended up here in the UK leaving Home Secretary Blunkett and the Home Office in a state of apoplexy.

Talking of discrimination Bala annai, don't you think dear Adele should return home with her mother and try to fight human rights abuses Down Under instead of running around the jungles of the Wanni telling the native tigers "I Jane, you Tarzan"or words to that effect.

Talking of Down Under actually brings me to the reason why I originally started this letter. But I was carried away by all this talk of your continued silence.

Anyway there I was at Katunayake airport waiting patiently for my baggage which seemed to take longer to reach the carousel than it took to fly from London. After a lifetime of waiting, annai, I was not as alert as I should have been.

One of your compatriots from the UK with a large family in tow and obviously anxious to get to his traditional homeland-probably in distant Ampara- slammed his baggage-laden trolley against my leg.

With a sheepish smile as the only sign of apology he pushed on towards Customs and I was too tired to say anything.

Some say that you and your boys are not entirely averse to hitting below the belt. But how low can you get- I mean to hit me in the ankle. I was concentrating on the annual Editors Guild journalism award ceremony at the Mount Lavinia Hotel which turned out to be quite a show what with meeting former colleagues and what not and getting away to Hong Kong which is really home from home.

It was there that the trouble started and since then I have been hopping between doctors, planes and wheel chairs.

I write to ask you for one favour. Next time your chaps think of making their appearance at the Katunayake airport, can you please leave the planes alone and take away all those rusty dilapidated baggage trolleys and start a scrap iron business in the Wanni? Or better still why not take them to the Iranamadu.

Now that you have made the tank even more famous and with all the comings and goings expected in the next few months, more trolleys will be needed there than at Katunayake. But brother Bala, can I offer a word of friendly advice? Watch your ankle not just your back. Some low down things happen.

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