Features
75th Independence Anniversary: What the president cannot say
by Rohan Pethiyagoda
Like you, I’ve been watching the elaborate preparations that the government’ has been making for the Independence Day celebrations, spending hundreds of millions of rupees on an extravagant display of power, apparently without a care in the world that poverty has reduced many children in this country to just a single meal a day. I’ve been thinking, if I were the president, how would I address the nation on this occasion. Well, here goes:
My fellow citizens: Today we celebrate 75 years of Independence. For 350 years, from the death of the last King of Kotte, Dom João Dharmapala in 1597 and until 4 February 1948, we were colonized by foreign powers. Nationalists often say that colonialism is the reason for our country’s predicament. I remain to be convinced of that. There is no doubt that Sri Lanka was once a great nation, a great civilization. Until the end of the Polonnaruwa period 800 years ago, Sri Lanka was a small but prosperous country, a powerhouse of agriculture, architecture, art, engineering and innovation, additionally blessed with a culture that was deeply rooted in the Buddhist tradition. We were the Singapore of South Asia back then.
But then, our civilization collapsed. This is no great shame. After all, all great civilizations must one day decline. Just look at the Greek, the Roman, the Islamic civilizations, for example. By the time the Portuguese took over, our island was fragmented into four warring kingdoms. It was a right royal mess. Meanwhile, on the other side of the Palk Strait, India had reached the apex of its flourishing. By 1600, India was producing 22.5 percent of global GDP, compared with just 9% today, despite its massive population. There is almost no evidence of similar flourishing in Sri Lanka at that time. When the colonials got here, we were at our weakest, most vulnerable; we were ripe for the picking. So, it’s about time we stopped harping on about what a great and noble past we used to have. It doesn’t matter anymore. We need to live in the present.
There are some people who argue that colonialism was a good thing. I disagree. Like slavery, colonialism is always bad. But we have to face the fact that by the end of the colonial period, by 1948, Ceylon was the most prosperous country in Asia. We had a thriving, export-orientated economy. We had a manageable population of just seven million people. We had a superb infrastructure of roads, railways, ports and airports. We had a 16-year history of universal franchise, of democracy, an independent judiciary, an excellent civil service, a secular constitution, free education, and even a positive balance of payments. Britain actually owed us money, back then.
But we had our weaknesses too: an unsustainable rate of population growth (population has tripled in these past 75 years) and there was also a lack of industrialization. Our political leaders, our early prime ministers, were drawn from the highest echelons of society. They came from affluent families and had excellent educational backgrounds. After all, four of the first five attended St Thomas’s College, which was my old school as well. All of them had since 1931 been groomed for leadership by the British through the mechanism of the State Council. And then, in 1948, they finally got their hands on power, the absolute power that comes with sovereignty. And all of them, in my opinion at least, were abject failures.
And it took them just 10 years, a single decade, in which to reduce it all to rubble. From the very outset, political parties had to outbid each other to get votes. If you didn’t offer a generous welfare package, free education, free health, free rice, free electricity, free stuff, all of it spiced with a pinch of anti-Tamil bigotry and class warfare, you simply couldn’t get elected. People also demanded 21 days of paid leave, 84 days of paid maternity leave, and more than 25 paid public holidays every year. In short, lots of free stuff and as little actual work as possible.
And once you got that free education, the government had to even create a free job for you in the state sector, and pay you a pensionable salary, to retain your political loyalty. Every election was reduced to an auction, an auction of votes, and the votes went to whichever party made the highest bid. And to give you more stuff— දියව්! දියව්!—us poor politicians had no alternative but to borrow more and more money. Where else was the money to come from? As a result, there has been no year in the past 40 years in which government debt has been less than 70 percent of GDP. It is now well over 110 percent. We borrow more than we produce. In fact, I think the last time in our history that we had a primary fiscal surplus was in 1955, the year I was born, 67 years ago. Few indicators say it better than the exchange rate. In 1948, the cost of a US dollar was just Rs 3.32. Today it is, as you know, more than Rs 370, a devaluation of 11,000 percent.

We politicians learned very early on that when it comes to subsidies, you simply can’t mess with the electorate. We learned that even though we are stupid and ignorant, you are even more stupid and ignorant. The inability of the UNP government to continue the wartime rice subsidy in 1952, for example, precipitated the great ‘hartal’, a general strike, bringing the UNP government to its knees and causing Dudley Senanayake to resign. Anxious to get back in favour with the electorate, in February 1956, Sir John Kotelawela promised to make Sinhala the sole official language. SWRD Bandaranaike followed suit, and for his bad luck, the poor chap won the general election that year. The Official Language Act was signed into law just three months later. It was very simple: “The Sinhala language shall be the one official language of Ceylon.”
This effectively disenfranchised both the Tamils and the Burghers, and by 1958, just ten years after Independence, race riots reduced the country to ashes. The Burghers were quick to pack their bags and emigrate to Australia. Even John Kotelawala, the father of the UNP’s Sinhala Only policy, got on a plane and took up residence in England.
The man simply had no shame. And now you’ve gone and named a university in his honour. What were you thinking? The Tamils struggled on for another quarter century, and then, they too ran away, to just about any country that would have them: Canada, Switzerland, Australia, England, the United States. Now, finally, even the Sinhalese are running away to join their Tamil brethren, by the planeload.
Meanwhile, from the 1950s onwards, we nationalized everything: transport, schools, hospitals, newspapers, banks, hotels, plantations, petroleum, shipping, insurance, the lot. And when there was nothing left to nationalize, we created new monopolies, state corporations, to compete with the private sector and, in effect, to destroy it. We did these things because it was the only way we politicians could give you those jobs that you wanted, that you felt entitled to, in the state sector. Through nationalization, we confiscated jobs from the private sector and gave them to you. And as chairmen and directors of these so-called state-owned enterprises, we appointed our unemployable relatives and our political cronies. And now you blame us because these so-called enterprises are unprofitable and inefficient. Can you really blame us? It is, after all, what you wanted. How else could we give you those jobs? And now, if we try to privatize any of these once more, you get all hot and bothered and you start protesting. You cut off our legs at the knees and then you ask us to run a marathon and become Singapore.
But of course, it hasn’t been all bad. Your life expectancy, for example, has increased by 30 years since Independence. Just about every household in Sri Lanka is now connected to the national electricity grid. We’ve got rid of most of the diseases that made our grandparents’ lives a misery. Our rice production increased from just 1.8 tons per hectare at Independence to 4.5 tons per hectare by 2015, making us a net exporter of rice for the first time in 500 years. And then of course, Gotabaya Rajapaksa came along and destroyed it all. Perhaps most importantly, despite all our troubles we managed to retain a semblance of democracy, the ability to change governments peacefully.
But what is the value of free health when almost half our children our undernourished? Of what value is free education when a quarter of all students fail their O levels and more than a third fail their A levels? And when almost no one can pass without expensive private tuition, anyway? And that’s just the ones who stay on in school. According to UNICEF, almost 60% of our children drop out of school by age 17, before their A levels. And what is the value of democracy when the vast majority of those you elect to office are thugs, crooks, and morons?
Now, 75 years after Independence, all you can do is to patriotically sing the praises of Mother Lanka for her rolling landscapes, her lofty hills, and her misty valleys. That’s all we have left to crow about. Having started near the top of the Asian rankings in 1948, we’ve been overtaken by one country after another. Of course, you can curse us politicians for the mess in which the country finds itself. But when it comes to looking for whom to blame, isn’t it time that you too, looked in the mirror? Maybe you need to point the finger at yourself as well.
Sri Lanka’s predicament is not the just fault of its politicians. It is also your fault. For once in your life, learn to take some damned responsibility. Ayubowan.
Features
Quandary of Dengue: Some roving perspectives
Sri Lanka is currently well and truly trapped in the strangling grip of a devastating and severely enhanced dengue outbreak. The numbers alone are staggering; over 44,000 cases have been recorded across the island so far this year, with the highest concentration systematically suffocating the Western, Southern, and Central provinces. Hospitals and healthcare providers are under extreme pressure, but the cold metrics of morbidity do not capture the true implications and dismay of this current wave. What has profoundly shaken the public consciousness and even sent a shudder through the medical community is a grim shift in the implications for the populace.
Dengue has always been quite a threat, looming over our Motherland from time to time. Yet for all that, historically, child deaths due to the virus were relatively rare in Sri Lanka, thanks to scrupulously adhering to robust clinical guidelines, as well as exceptional paediatric monitoring and management. This year, that safety net seems to be straining quite a bit at the edges and among the reported fatalities are a tragic number of children. The virus is moving faster, hitting harder, and exposing a terrifying reality, even stressing that our existing defence mechanisms are perhaps no longer totally sufficient to deal with the problem.
In response, public health authorities have deployed their traditional arsenal. Teams are busy with intensive surveillance, conducting house-to-house inspections, enforcing strict penalties for standing and stagnant water, and sending fogging machinery through the streets to blanket neighbourhoods in chemical mists. Yet, as case counts climb by nearly 50% week over week, an uncomfortable question must be asked: Are these traditional measures sufficient, or are they bordering on an exercise in futility?
The Illusion of the Fog: Why Our Current Strategy May Be Failing?
To understand why Sri Lanka might be in a tight corner, one must look closely at the enemy. Dengue is transmitted primarily by the Aedes aegypti mosquito, a highly adapted, urbanised insect. While Aedes aegypti is widely considered the primary culprit, Aedes albopictus (commonly known as the Asian tiger mosquito) plays a massive, highly dangerous role in Sri Lanka’s dengue transmission as well. In fact, the interplay between these two species is one of the biggest reasons why controlling dengue on the island is so incredibly difficult. These two vectors behave differently, breed in different places, and require distinct strategies to combat their well-recognised roles in the propagation of the disease that is dengue. Understanding how these two mosquito species split the territory could explain why a single controlling method might not always work across the board.
Aedes aegypti mosquitoes are strictly urban and indoor creatures. They live alongside humans inside houses, apartments, and in heavily built-up commercial areas. They rest on dark clothes in closets, under furniture, and behind curtains. They breed in artificial containers, clear, stagnant water in flower vases, plastic cups, concrete sumps, and overhead tanks. They prefer human blood almost exclusively and bite multiple people to get one full meal, thereby spreading the dengue virus rapidly within even a single household.
In contrast, Aedes albopictus is semi-urban and rural, thrives in vegetations, gardens, rubber plantations, and peri-urban areas where green spaces meet houses. The creature rests in shaded bushes, high grass, and low canopy foliage, as well as holes in trees, leaf axils, coconut shells, discarded tyres and trash. The biting behaviour of these mosquitoes is opportunistic. They bite humans but also feed on birds and domestic mammals, indicating that they can survive easily even when human density is low.
The traditional responses we rely on, most notably thermal fogging, are largely cosmetic public relations exercises rather than a totally effective vector control mechanism. Such fogging misses indoor resting sites, drives resistance, and stagnant water elimination fails against cryptic, microscopic breeding sites.
Fogging utilises “adulticides“, chemical sprays meant to kill flying mosquitoes. However, Aedes aegypti is a domestic creature; it rests indoors, hidden in the dark recesses of closets, under beds, and behind curtains. A fogging process achieves very little penetration into these indoor sanctuaries. Furthermore, over-reliance on these pyrethroid-based chemical sprays has accelerated insecticide resistance, effectively rendering the chemicals useless over time.
Similarly, while the National Dengue Control Unit (NDCU), to their eternal credit, aggressively pursues the elimination of visible standing water, the sheer adaptability of the mosquito outpaces manual human labour in trying to eliminate the breeding places of the vectors. Aedes eggs can remain dormant in dry containers for months, hatching the moment a drop of water touches them. In dense, urbanised areas like Colombo and Gampaha, microscopic breeding sites, from the rim of a discarded plastic bottle cap to the base of an indoor potted plant, are impossible to completely police.
If we continue to rely solely on manual cleaning and chemical fogging, we are fighting a twenty-first-century climate-driven crisis with mid-twentieth-century tools. We must look beyond our borders to see how global science is shifting the paradigm of mosquito control.
The Biological Frontier: Insects fighting Mosquitoes
When searching for international alternatives, many look towards the United States, where vector control districts manage complex mosquito populations across diverse ecosystems. A common point of curiosity is the historical use of “mosquito-eating insects.”
In the US, biological control has long featured predatory species. While some point to insects like dragonfly nymphs or giant non-biting mosquito larvae (Toxorhynchites, which actively prey on other mosquito larvae), the most widely used traditional biological agent in American municipal water systems is actually the Gambusia affinis, commonly known as the “mosquitofish.” A single one of these surface-feeding fish can devour hundreds of mosquito larvae a day.
However, American vector management has largely evolved past simply dumping predatory fish into ponds. The true modern frontier in global mosquito control relies on advanced biological and genetic interventions that turn the mosquitoes against themselves.
1. The Wolbachia Revolution
Perhaps the most successful international intervention against dengue is the introduction of Wolbachia-infected mosquitoes. Wolbachia is a naturally occurring bacterium found in up to sixty per cent of all insect species, but crucially, not naturally present in Aedes aegypti.
When scientists introduce Wolbachia into Aedes mosquitoes in a laboratory and release them into the wild, two extraordinary things happen: –
· Viral Suppression: The bacterium competes with viruses like dengue, Zika, and chikungunya inside the mosquito’s body, making it incredibly difficult for the virus to replicate. If the virus cannot replicate, the mosquito cannot transmit it to a human.
· Population Replacement:
Through a mechanism called cytoplasmic incompatibility, when a Wolbachia-carrying male mates with a wild female that does not carry the bacteria, her eggs do not hatch. If a Wolbachia female mates with a wild male, her offspring will carry the bacteria. Over time, the local mosquito population is entirely replaced by harmless, non-transmission-capable mosquitoes.
In comprehensive global trials, such as those conducted by the World Mosquito Programme in Yogyakarta, Indonesia, the introduction of Wolbachia mosquitoes led to a staggering 77% reduction in dengue incidence and an 86% reduction in dengue-related hospitalisations.
2. Sterile Insect Technique (SIT) and Genetic Modifications
Other countries, including parts of the US (such as the Florida Keys) and Brazil, have turned to genetic engineering. Using the Sterile Insect Technique (SIT) or advanced genetic variants (like those developed by Oxitec), millions of bio-engineered male mosquitoes are released into the wild. Because male mosquitoes do not bite humans, and they feed exclusively on nectar, thereby posing zero risk to the public. These males mate with wild females, but pass on a self-limiting gene that causes the female offspring to die in the larval stage before they can ever mature, bite, or transmit disease. This results in a drastic collapse of the localised vector population without the use of even a single drop of toxic chemical pesticide.
Moving beyond the Status Quo: A Blueprint for Sri Lanka
The current dilemma in Sri Lanka is a classical gridlock: we are deploying immense physical effort and economic capital into vector control measures that yield diminishing returns, while our clinical wards fill with critically ill patients. If we are to break this cycle, our public health policy must undergo a rapid structural evolution
We cannot instantly replicate the multimillion-dollar genetic laboratories of the West, but we can modernise our strategy immediately by adopting a highly targeted, multi-tiered approach.
Comprehensive Vector Management Strategy
The following are some thoughts that need to be carefully evaluated in a venture towards getting things under control.
· Shift from Adulticides to Target Microbial Larvicides Immediate Phase
Cease the reliance on sweeping chemical thermal fogging. Instead, deploy specialised microbial larvicides such as Bacillus thuringiensis israelensis (Bti). Bti is a naturally occurring soil bacterium that, when ingested by mosquito larvae, destroys their digestive tracts. It is completely non-toxic to humans, pets, and other aquatic life, and can be distributed via localised backpack sprayers or drones into inaccessible urban sumps.
· Scale Up Localised Wolbachia Trials Intermediate Phase
Sri Lanka has previously initiated small-scale, localised pilot releases of Wolbachia mosquitoes in select urban pockets. Given the severity of the 2026 outbreak, these programmes must be aggressively scaled up into an industrial-level national initiative. Public-private partnerships must be leveraged to establish sustainable, high-capacity mosquito-rearing facilities locally.
· Implement Digital Ovitrap Surveillance Continuous Integration
Replace manual, retroactive searching with predictive digital mapping. Deploy networks of smart “ovitraps” (oviposition traps) across high-burden provinces. These traps monitor egg-laying rates in real-time, allowing automated data systems to predict a spike in the adult mosquito population weeks before an actual clinical outbreak occurs, enabling preventative targeting.
The Cost of Inaction
Maintaining our current trajectory is not a neutral choice; it is an endorsement of escalating mortality. The 2026 outbreak has proven that the ecological dynamics of dengue have changed, fuelled by changing weather patterns and urban density. Our public health response must change with it.
The heart-breaking loss of young lives in this current surge must serve as a stark wake-up call. We must look at the international landscape, embrace the biological innovations that have saved lives across the globe, and transition from a policy of panic-driven reaction to one of scientific eradication. It is no longer just a matter of cleaning our drains; it is a matter of upgrading our science.
Why Aedes albopictus Makes the Sri Lankan Crisis Harder
In Sri Lanka, the geographic landscape transitions quickly from dense concrete cities to lush, tropical vegetation. This creates the perfect environment for both species to thrive simultaneously.
· The Surveillance Blindspot: When health authorities focus heavily on checking indoor water storage and concrete drains in cities, they can completely miss the massive Aedes albopictus populations breeding in the surrounding vegetation, suburban gardens, and rural homesteads of the Southern and Central provinces.
· The Failure of Indoor Fogging:
While indoor residual spraying or targeted indoor fogging might hit Aedes aegypti, it has virtually no effect on Aedes albopictus, which spends its life cycle outdoors in the bushes.
· Climate Resilience:
Aedes albopictus eggs are remarkably tolerant of colder temperatures and varied environments. This allows the vector to push higher into the mountainous terrains of the Central Province, bringing dengue to areas that historically saw very few cases.
To truly bring down the case numbers in a severely enhanced outbreak, public health interventions must be dual-targeted: addressing the indoor, urban threat of Aedes aegypti while simultaneously tackling the outdoor, ecological stronghold of Aedes albopictus. We cannot sit back on our laurels of the past. We need to move forward resolutely.
Features
ANURADHAPURA ANTHEM c.1893
R. W. Ievers, who wrote this poem, was the Government Agent of the North Central Province during 1884, 1886, and 1890. He is the author of the Manual of the North Central Province (1899) and a half dozen published reports on the life and practices in the Province. Before his death, he shared it with his good friend H.C.P. Bell, the Archaeological Commissioner of Ceylon at the time. In 1917, Bell had it published in the Times of Ceylon – Christmas Number. Since then, it remained unknown for 109 years, until Ievers’s great-grandson, Turtle Bunbury, historian and author of Living in Sri Lanka (2006) with James Fennell, tipped me off about its source – H.C.P. Bell: Archaeologist of Ceylon and the Maldives (1993), written by Bell’s granddaughters Bethia N. Bell and Heather M. Bell.
THE ANTHEM
Anuradhapura! City grand and vast,
Lanka’s famous Capital, in ages of the past:
In the Mahawansa the story has been told
Of thy palaces, and temples, and pinnacles of gold.
Hail! then hail! to the worth of a bygone day,
Hail! all hail! to the relics of kingly sway
Hail to thee, Fair City, glorious in decay,
Hail! thrice hail! Forever and for aye!
Si monumentum quaeris
– cast your gaze around
Ruined fanes and dagobas everywhere abound
Alas! for glory faded, for erstwhile beauty sped
For hierarchs and heroes, long numbered with the dead
Hail! then hail!…
Great Ruwanaveli Seya, once fairest of the fair,
The splendour of thy palmy days has melted into air;
And like Imperial Caesar now ‘dead and turned into clay’,
Thy sacred bricks ‘may stop a hole to keep the wind away.’
Note by Tillakaratne:
Since 1873, Bhikku Naranvita Sumanasara has been doing conservation work on this stupa. In 1876, Governor William Gregory, after visiting the work site, wrote that its conservation was not just a religious work but a great National Monument.
See ‘Bayagiri’ massive – ‘Fearless Mount’ forsooth – Centre once of schism rank, from ‘Great Vihara’ truth.
Patched up by prison labour, anew it flaunts on high
A ‘hideous excrescence’ athwart a tranquil sky.
Note by H. C. P. Bell
: T. N. Christie, Planting Member at the time protested in the Legislative Council against the abortive “restoration” by prison labour of the Abhayagiri Dagaba, dubbing its truncated pinnacle, half restored, a “hideous excrescence”.
Jetawanarama, Great Sena’s priestly boon
Comely shape and giddy height will crumble all too soon;
Where forest trees and chequered shade a peaceful picture lend,
From cruel axe and ruthless spade, may gracious Heaven defend.
Note by H. C. P. Bell:
Two decades after these poems were written, the surrounding area of the Jetawanarama was still covered in forest, and the Atamasthana Committee conditionally allowed a monk to clear a limited number of trees. But not a tree remained unfelled, contrary to what the monk was authorized to do.
Thuparama graceful, in outline clear and bold,
Begirt with column chaste and slim, a gem in the ring of gold
To thee pertains high honour a pious people gave – The tomb of Sanghamitta, and Prince Mahinda’s grave.
Note by
H. C. P. Bell: The ruins are pointed out, wrongly, as the tradional tombs of Arahat Mahinda and Sanghamitta Theranee.
With bricks and mortar bolstered up, behold the Sacred Bo;
To some – misguided mortals – ‘tis but a ‘bo-gas’ show.
Where humble Mirisveti a monarch’s fad recalls,
Lo! Royal Siam’s silver now builds its futile walls.
Note by H. C. P. Bell:
According to Mahawansa, Mirisavetiya was so named after King Dutugemunu’s compunction at forgetting chillies (miris) in his alms giving to monks on one occasion. The restoration work on the Mirisavetiya began under the Ceylon Government, with funds provided by the King of Siam. When the money flow began to cease, work also ceased, and bats began to frequent the holed structure.
- Ruwanveli Seya in the background. Murage in the front c. 1900 From Sacred City of Anuradhapura (1908)
- Bhayagriya (Abhayagiriya) c. 1900 From: Sacred City of Anuradhapura (1908)
- Jetawanaramaya c. 1900. From Sacred City of Anuradhapura (1908)
What need to tell of sculptures, of ‘pokunas’ galore,
Of balustrades and Yogi stones and half a hundred more,
Of Brazen Palace spacious, with gilt-roofed storeys dight –
A modern race more ‘brazen’ would desecrate each site.
For midst these sacred ruins of shrines and cloistered hall,
A reckless generation disports with little balls,
Whilst ‘Parliamentary language’ and imprecations deep
Disturb the peaceful solitude where saintly Rahats sleep.
Note by H. C. P. Bell:
After European residents, old city Anuradhapura in the late 19th century, the area still being cleared between Ruwanveli Seya and Thuparama, was used a ‘golf links’. Ievers did not like the area used as a playground:
Iconoclasts and vandals have had their little day;
No more shall ancient pillars to culverts find their way.
No more a watchful Government such sacrilege condones –
One may not meddle with the gods, nor tamper with the stones.
Anuradhapura! Thy glory shall revive;
Yhu [sic] sons shall swarm within thee like bees about a hive.
The effort of the present for past neglect atones;
New breath of life resuscitates this vale of driest bones.
Composed by R. W. Ievers
(1850-1905)
Introduced by Lokubanda Tillakaratne
Features
Meththa Rehabilitation Foundation: Restoring Mobility, Dignity and Hope Across Sri Lanka
For thousands of Sri Lankans living with limb loss and physical disabilities, access to quality rehabilitation services remains a significant challenge. Yet, for more than three decades, our organisation has quietly transformed lives through innovation, compassion and community-based care. The Meththa Rehabilitation Foundation Guarantee Limited (MRFGL), supported by the Meththa Foundation-UK and in partnership with the Manitha Neyam Trust, the LEBARA Foundation and the Oblates of Mary Immaculate in Jaffna, emerged as one of Sri Lanka’s most effective voluntary rehabilitation service providers, restoring mobility, independence and dignity to some of the country’s most vulnerable citizens.
The Foundation’s roots stretch back to 1994, when a group of expatriate Sri Lankan professionals in the United Kingdom recognised the severe shortage of rehabilitation services available to disabled persons in Sri Lanka. Drawing upon their expertise in rehabilitation medicine and allied healthcare professions, they established the Meththa Foundation-UK with a simple but powerful vision: to provide affordable, high-quality prosthetic and rehabilitation services to those who needed them most.
What began as an effort to recycle and repurpose high-quality prosthetic components donated by the UK’s National Health Service has evolved into a comprehensive rehabilitation network serving communities across the island.
Clinical services commenced in Sri Lanka in 1995 through a mobile outreach programme that initially supported injured soldiers and later expanded to civilians affected by conflict and disability. The majority of them were victims of land mines. In 2010, the Sri Lankan arm of the organisation was formally registered as the Meththa Rehabilitation Foundation Guarantee Limited, strengthening its ability to deliver sustainable services nationwide.
Today, the Foundation operates four modern rehabilitation centres located in Mahawa, Mankulam, Balapitiya and Kilinochchi. These centres provide prosthetic and orthotic services, posture and mobility support, limb repairs, and rehabilitation assistance to patients from diverse social and economic backgrounds.
Recognising that many disabled individuals live in remote areas with limited access to healthcare, Meththa Foundation also established a mobile outreach service in 2011. Through a successful “Hub and Spoke” model, rehabilitation teams travel regularly to underserved communities, ensuring that patients are not denied care simply because of distance or financial hardship.
The scale of the Foundation’s work is impressive. During 2025 alone, the organisation recorded approximately 2,000 patient contacts, including the provision of 350 new artificial limbs, 850 limb repairs and around 800 other rehabilitation devices. For many beneficiaries, these interventions represent far more than medical treatment; they offer a pathway back to employment, education and social participation.
Innovation has become a hallmark of the Foundation’s approach. Through an active research and development programme, MRFGL has developed affordable prosthetic technologies specifically suited to Sri Lankan conditions. Among its achievements is the development of a modular below-knee artificial limb system manufactured largely from locally sourced materials. The Foundation has also designed low-cost prosthetic knee components that significantly reduce the financial burden on patients while maintaining quality and functionality. These developments are funded by generous International Grants facilitated by affluent members of the Meththa Foundation-UK. Service users are encouraged to donate whatever they can but for those who cannot, which is a majority the services are entirely free.
These innovations not only make rehabilitation more affordable but also strengthen local manufacturing capabilities and reduce dependence on imported components.
Equally important is the Foundation’s commitment for building local expertise. Recognising the shortage of trained rehabilitation professionals in Sri Lanka, Meththa Foundation
established an apprentice-based vocational training programme that recruits and trains young people as prosthetists, orthotists and rehabilitation technicians. Several locally trained staff members are now employed across the Foundation’s centres, helping to create a sustainable workforce for the future.
The organisation’s work has attracted growing recognition within the healthcare sector. Discussions have already taken place with health authorities regarding the potential use of Meththa-designed prosthetic components within Government hospitals. Such collaboration could significantly expand access to affordable rehabilitation services throughout the country.
Beyond its clinical achievements, the Foundation’s impact is measured in restored confidence and renewed independence. Surveys conducted among beneficiaries indicate that many educated amputees successfully return to productive lives after receiving rehabilitation support. However, the findings also highlight an ongoing challenge among poorer and less educated amputees, many of whom struggle to access follow-up care due to transportation difficulties and financial constraints.
To address this issue, the organisation hopes to -expand its mobile services and community outreach programmes. Additional funding would allow rehabilitation teams to reach isolated communities more frequently, ensuring that vulnerable patients continue to receive the support they need.
Operating on an annual expenditure of approximately Rs. 30 million in Sri Lanka, supplemented by overseas fundraising and donations, the Foundation remains heavily reliant on the partnership of charitable trusts such as the Manitha Neyam Trust and LEBARA Foundation and generosity of individual well-wishers. Every contribution directly supports the provision of artificial limbs, mobility devices, training programmes and outreach services for those who might otherwise be left behind.
As Sri Lanka continues to strengthen its healthcare and social welfare systems, organisations such as the Meththa Foundation demonstrate how innovation, volunteerism and dedication can create lasting social
By helping individuals regain mobility and independence, the Foundation is not merely providing artificial limbs—it is rebuilding lives and restoring hope.
For many “beneficiaries, every step they take is a testament to the life-changing work of the Meththa foundation
www.meththafoundation-sl-uk.org
Chairman’s WhatsApp contact number +94 77 788 6119
Prof S P Lamabadusurira, Chairman and Dr B Panagamuwa, ✍️
First Trustee
-
Features6 days agoNanda Pethiyagoda Wanasundara as three generations of family saw her
-
Features5 days agoSri Lanka developing independent hydrographic capabilities
-
Opinion4 days agoRanasinghe Premadasa: The man who would not take ‘No’ for an answer
-
Editorial6 days agoFuel crisis: Beyond price debate
-
Latest News6 days agoSooryavanshi thumps fastest List A fifty as India A win tri-series
-
News4 days agoUS Assistant Secretary of State for South and Central Asian Affairs meets President
-
Business5 days agoUniversity of West London opens Sri Lanka’s first full UK university branch campus
-
Features6 days agoThe Sirisena – Ranil conflict and events leading to MR’s return as PM




