Riyaz Aluher
For many Sri Lankans, the tragic events of May 1, 1993, remain a searing memory. The assassination of President Ranasinghe Premadasa, a leader known for his deep connection with the grassroots, marked one of the darkest days in our nation’s post-independence history. For me, however, it was more than just a historical tragedy—it was a deeply personal experience, witnessed from just across the road.
As an Advanced Level student at the time, I was living with my family in the school quarters of Mihindu Mawatha Muslim Maha Vidyalaya—now known as Al Hikma College—located directly opposite “Sucharitha,” the private residence of President Premadasa. We had been living in the quarters for nearly 13 years, as my father served as the Assistant Principal of the school. That long period of residence offered us not only proximity to power but also a unique window into the daily routines of one of the country’s most prominent leaders.
The morning of May Day in 1993 was unusually tense. Security forces had taken over the school premises to accommodate personnel participating in the May Day rally. I remember standing at the main entrance of the school, watching the parade begin its procession from St. Sebastian Road. President Premadasa, dressed in his customary white, was travelling in one of the vehicles, waving to the crowd as always.
Then came an unusual moment—a black cat suddenly crossed in front of the President’s vehicle. Known to be highly superstitious and deeply influenced by astrology, he turned the vehicle around and returned briefly to Sucharitha. Moments later, he reappeared in a different vehicle and rejoined the procession.
By midday, around 12:00 to 12:30 p.m., we were shaken by devastating news: a bomb had exploded near the Armour Street junction opposite Vani Vilas, killing the President and several others. It was later revealed that the suicide bomber was a man named “Babu,” an LTTE operative who had infiltrated the President’s inner circle. Employed at a small retail shop in Gunasinghapura, Babu had earned the President’s trust and was even known to have accompanied him on private air travel.
That day changed the country—and it changed me. Having seen the President hours before his assassination, just outside the place I called home, left a deep imprint on my memory. President Premadasa was a powerful orator, and over the years, I had often listened to his eloquent Sinhala speeches delivered from Sucharitha. Although my first language is Tamil, I believe those speeches helped me improve my command of Sinhala, exposing me to powerful public speaking and the rhythm of political discourse in Sri Lanka.
President Premadasa’s vision for development, especially his focus on housing schemes and poverty alleviation, remains a significant part of his legacy. Yet, the circumstances of his death are a grim reminder of the violent chapters in our island’s history.
May Day will forever hold dual meanings for Sri Lankans—a celebration of workers’ rights, and the day we lost a sitting President to terror. For me, it will always remain the day history unfolded before my very eyes, just across the street from home.
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https://www.reddit.com/r/srilanka/comments/ugoll6/remembering_ranasinghe_premadasa_behind_the_mask/
Thank you for sharing this personal and moving account. It takes us back to one of the darkest periods in Sri Lanka’s history, when so many talented and capable individuals, including countless young people, lost their lives unnecessarily across the country. These losses impact all of us to date.
The violence of those years is something we hope and pray will never be repeated. It has taken Sri Lanka back decades and left hundreds of thousands of families with unfulfilled dreams, continuing pain…..
We can only hope that future generations will be far more fortunate than us, never having to witness or experience such unimaginable life experiences. We all have a role to play ensuring non repetition…….
Your experience is so personal, I am sure day’s events shared must have shaped your life in ways any of us won’t be able to fully comprehend.
As an anniversary sop story, Riyaz Aluher’s version on President Premadasa assassination is certainly directed to Premadasa enthusiasts only, but leave much to be desired. His account of the assassin tagged as ‘Babu’ (which you had highlighted) varies from respected Bradman Weerakoon’s 2004 memoirs. For the benefit of non-partisan readers, I cite three vital paragraphs from Weerakoon’s book.
“The police inquiries revealed that a Tamil youth called Babu whose upper part of the body was discovered some 50 yards away, could be the suspect. Babu apparently had gained access to the Premadasa’s household some months earlier and had been a friend of Mohideen. It was even said that Babu had accompanied Premadasa when he went in the helicopeter to his Ambanpola estate” (p. 301)
“I had never seen or heard of Babu until the police revealed the man. I used to be a frequent visitor to Sucharita and found it strange that the name Babu had never come up earlier either in my hearing or to my vision. It was said that Babu was planted by the LTTE and that the assassination was carried out by the LTTE. However, there was no charge against anyone instituted in the courts, as would have happened in the case of any homicide, and certainly, in the case of the president of the country.” (p.301)
“There were also a couple more facts that I was aware of that bothered me. Firstly, the terrible photograph of the mangled bodies of the fallen which Sudath Silva, the president’s photographer who was following Premadasa in the procession, had taken. It showed unmistakably a dark, tall man with tousled hair with his crumpled bicycle also among the dead. Something like a tape recorder with detached wires still appeared strapped to his upper chest. Who was this man and what was he doing on a bicycle in a foot procession so close to Premadasa at the moment of death? His face was not that of the Babu that the media was showing.” (p. 302).
I also noted that Mr. Aluher had omitted the name Mohideen, who was Premadasa’s valet, in his account. Why? Aluher indicates that he was a neighbour living near ‘Sucharita’. Certainly, being Muslims, Aluher should have interacted with Mohideen. Isn’t it? If so, did he notice this ‘Mohideen -Babu’ links in ‘Sucharita’? This information may be of help to those who are interested in identifying the assassin Babu. Mr. Weerakoon is doubtful about the police hoisting Babu as the dead assassin. He had recorded this 11 years after the assassination, for posterity.