Features

Some British judges and experiences in outstation courts

Published

3 years ago

2023/03/19

Thilina Walpola

Sir Sydney Abrahams

Excerpted from the Memoirs of Cabinet Secretary BP Peiris

Sir Sydney Abrahams, Chief Justice, who had succeeded MacDonnell, said that on behalf of the little band of brothers of which he was proud to be the captain, he wished to tell his eldest brother how much they would miss him, how much they loved him and how much they admired him. Poyser left to assume duties as the Chief Justice of the Straits Settlements.

Of Abrahams, I know very little because, shortly after his assumption of office, I left the Bar for Legal Drafting. I do know that he insisted that R. V. Perera should take silk and should take his oaths wearing the Chief’s silk gown. I believe Abrahams left after some displeasure with the Government following the famous Bracegirdle case.

I must now speak of the few occasions on which I appeared in our outstation courts. I have mentioned how I came to be in my uncle Jayawickrama’s house at Matara on the day before a rape case in which I was his junior. The Magistrate was a man who was puffed up with his own pride, thought a great deal about his own self, used unjudicial language from the Bench and could be nasty to anyone, including senior members of his Bar.

My uncle told me that in his 30 years at the Bar, he had not had a “breeze” with the Bench, and had accordingly, during the whole of that Magistrate’s three year term as judge in the town, consistently refused to accept briefs in his court. He asked me to appear in court the next day and also give his own appearance. I was in court with my barrister’s blue bag on which were marked my initials. I was happy to meet three colleagues from the Law Library who had set up in practice there – R. H. E. de Silva, A. F. Wijemanne and Fred Alles.

An excise case, having been called before mine, the Excise Inspector got into the box and made his complaint to the effect that he had arrested the accused woman for being in possession of illicit toddy. The pot of toddy was produced in court. The judge listened to the Inspector’s evidence without putting pen to paper. He then told “the Inspector to clear out of court without wasting his time. He asked the Inspector to put his time to better use without harassing poor innocent women. He then called the woman and asked her to take her pot away which she proceeded to do.

She was then called back and asked why she removed the pot if it was not her’s. Receiving no reply, the judge fined her two rupees. Up. to now, the judge had. recorded no evidences, and, I asked Wijemanne about this new procedure. I was told that the judge often acted in this manner. He would record a summary of the Inspector’s evidence and add, “Accused pleads guilty – fined two rupees”. The senior proctors did not dare to file a petition of appeal. In order to avoid incurring the displeasure of the judge, they paid a junior a fee for his signature on the petition.

The next case was one of Wije’s which was down for legal argument. When he had developed his argument and started to quote a judgment of the Supreme Court, reported in the New Law Reports, the pompous man on the bench interposed “Don’t bother to cite Supreme Court law to me. I gave a judgment to the same effect some time ago, and I prefer to follow mine.” There was a sharp interchange of words on this between judge and advocate. Wije, at that time, had that youthful short temper. My recollection is that he packed up his books and left the court without completing his submissions.

With this introduction to a type of Magistrate I had not met before, my case was called. I informed the court that Mr Jayawickrama appeared with me for the accused. “Who? Our Sylvester?” asked the judge, and continued “He never appears in my court. I should like to have him in my court. I will give you a date. What’s your name?” Now, this last question is one which a judge never puts to counsel in keeping with the etiquette of the Bar, the assumption being that the most junior advocate is well known to the judiciary of the country.

Normally counsel appearing for the first time in a strange court hands a chit with his name well in advance to the Secretary of the court and this chit is discreetly passed to the Bench when his case is called. To the question what my name was, I said “B. P. Peiris”. The judge apparently did not hear and, cupping his hand to his ear, kept repeating “D. P. ?” I turned my blue bag with my initials towards him. He looked at it, was obviously annoyed, but nodded.

He again asked me to take a date to allow Mr Jayawickrama to appear, but I protested, saying that the clients had been put to a deal of expense and that I was ready to go on with the trial. The Prosecution was therefore asked to lead evidence. The first witness was the Government Medical Officer who had examined the twelve year old girl who had been raped. The girl’s mother, a good-looking woman, was in the employ of the next witness, another doctor, who was a cousin of the judge.

When this witness, to whom the first complaint had been made, was in the box, the judge asked him “May I know, Doctor, in what capacity the girl’s mother is employed under you”. “As the ayah to my children,” answered the witness. Said the judge “I will put that down on the record, Doctor, to make the position quite clear.” After the evidence of the two doctors the judge forced a date on me and I had to submit. I did not appear on the next date; nor did my uncle. He probably asked the proctor to carry on. The judge “retired” a few years later to resume his practice at the Bar.

I appeared, some months later, before an equally arrogant man who was Magistrate at Gampola. My father’s brother, a poor man, was trying to eject a tenant, after due notice, from a small tea land which he owned. I was appearing pro deo. Having no car, I went to Gampola by train. The proctor for the tenant was E. G. Jonklass who came to court accompanied by two labourers carrying suitcases, said to contain law books, on their heads. My proctor asked me not to be nervous; the suitcases were there everyday but they had never been opened.

Jonklass obtained seven postponements in all. I was then compelled to tell the judge that I was determined to see the case to its conclusion and asked for a short date. He fixed a day three days later and said he would take the case up on that day even in the absence of Mr Jonklass. I wasted three days on each trial date, one to go up by train, one for the trial and one to come down; and the judge knew it. I said I would have to stay in the town. He said “Well, stay here, its a nice town; have a look round the place.”

In the evening, I paid a courtesy call on him with no intention at all of discussing the case. We were both advocates and I saw nothing improper in it. A very interesting conversation, over whisky found the time passing quickly. It was 9 p.m. and I stood up to leave. The judge said, in parting, “Peiris, I hate that fellow Jonklass; he had all the Civil Service judges in his pocket with his big house, his tennis court and his bridge parties. He can’t have me. I’ll give you judgment but I am weak on the civil law. Direct me.”

‘What ho!’ I thought, I was a bloody fool to have come. But, having come, what was I to do? Tell Jonklass? Tell my proctor and throw up the brief? Was it the judge speaking, or the whisky? My mind was confused as I walked away fulminating. In the end, I decided to lie doggo, take Sandara’s advice, and go into court with an open mind. In court the next day, it was smooth sailing at about five knots. I was asked to submit my argument at dictation speed and every word was taken down. The judgment was so strongly in my favour that even the appeal court could not upset it. Here, I felt, was another unjudicial judge. He also “retired” prematurely and started practising in another outstation.

T. F. C. Roberts, my good friend, took up his first judicial appointment as Magistrate of my home town, Panadura, and as friends, we visited each other frequently. Naturally, I did not expect him, by reason of our friendship, to extend to me the slightest preferential treatment if I had occasion to appear in his court. I did appear once, again pro deo, and had to call a number of witnesses to prove that my client, who was charged with theft was, at the time of the alleged offence, several miles away from the scene of the offence.

Although, at this time I was living at Panadura, I was considered as “Colombo Counsel” and my case was called first. The judge had a heavy roll that day and lost his temper when I had seven witnesses. “All you people seem to think, when you come here, that you are in the Supreme Court. You must remember that this is a summary trial,” to which I replied that a summary trial was not necessarily a short trial, which appeared to make him more angry. “Call them all, call them all”, he shouted at me, referring to the witnesses, and after hearing them, gave my man the maximum sentence.

Lalitha Rajapakse appeared free for my client in appeal and got him off. Fortunately, there are still honourable members of our profession who are willing to appear and who have appeared pro deo in certain circumstances for clients who are unable to pay their fees or when they are called upon to assist the court. Among these are eminent and expensive silks. But why should these gentlemen be asked to give their time and their services to save an innocent pauper who has been ordered to undergo some punishment by a judge who is peppery and impatient, or who, that morning, has had a quarrel with his wife, or whose qualities are such that he should never have become or been appointed a judge?

In another case before judge Roberts, a friend of mine, a photographer in Panadura, was charged with the theft of a Colt revolver from a British soldier who was, at that time stationed in the town. My friend had volunteered for service in the war of 1914-1918, had fought at Gallipoli and at other places in France and returned home safely with a long row of medals. In World War II, he used to entertain the British soldiers in the town lavishly in his studio. He was not the man to steal the revolver of another soldier.

Only one witness was called for the defence, my father, Gate Mudaliyar Edmund Peiris, J.P., U.M. who gave evidence as to the good character of the accused. Judge Roberts found him guilty and imposed the maximum penalty, I believe, six months jail. My friend, A. H. C. de Silva appeared for him in appeal before Dalton J. I advised my client to come to court with all his medals pinned on his breast and sit in the last row at the very back of the court. At the end of counsel’s argument, Dalton asked whether the accused was present in court and, to a reply in the affirmative, said “Let him stand up”. He studied the man’s medals for some time, he probably recognized them, and dictated a judgment returning the case to the Magistrate for the imposition of a nominal fine of one rupee.

In concluding this Chapter, I must refer to the three bits of advice which B. F. de Silva gave me at the beginning of my career as an advocate: about reading the New Law Reports – I did that assiduously, indexing every case.

About not appearing for less than one guinea, I have a story. A proctor friend of mine asked me to come to the Court of Requests instead of wasting my time in the Appeal Courts and promised to give me all his work and that of a friend of his provided I showed my bona fides by just sitting in this crowded court for two weeks. After two weeks, I told him I had done so and he immediately gave me a brief for the next day. Inside the brief was a five-rupee note. I asked him what the money was for and was told that it was my fee. I told him that my fee was one guinea and was rebuked for standing on my dignity. I was asked why I should be paid a guinea when he was able to retain the then most senior advocate practising in that court for the same fee. I handed the brief back and never entered the Court of Requests thereafter.

About never signing a proctor’s receipt for more than the actual fee paid, I have, again, a story. I had been retained as junior to a silk and had been paid the usual guinea but had not been given a brief, with the result that I did not know what the case was about. We were for the respondents and were not called upon to speak. In due course, the proctor brought the bill of costs for my signature “Fee paid to Mr Advocate B. P. Peiris. 3 Guas”. I said I was paid only one guinea and would sign for that.

Then came the bargaining as if I was buying half a pound of brinjals off a basket-woman. “These are hard days, Mr Peiris, I’ll give you another guinea and you sign for three. We’ll split the difference.” I told him that if he gave me another guinea, I would sign for two. I did not get the other guinea. I signed for one, and I never got another brief from that proctor again. B. F., that honest and upright man, must have known all about the dishonesty in the profession and the tricks of the trade.

All News Advertisement

Features

Ramadan 2026: Fasting hours around the world

Published

1 hour ago

2026/02/16

Priyan

The Muslim holy month of Ramadan is set to begin on February 18 or 19, depending on the sighting of the crescent moon.

During the month, which lasts 29 or 30 days, Muslims observing the fast will refrain from eating and drinking from dawn to dusk, typically for a period of 12 to 15 hours, depending on their location.

Muslims believe Ramadan is the month when the first verses of the Quran were revealed to the Prophet Muhammad more than 1,400 years ago.

The fast entails abstinence from eating, drinking, smoking and sexual relations during daylight hours to achieve greater “taqwa”, or consciousness of God.

Why does Ramadan start on different dates every year?

Ramadan begins 10 to 12 days earlier each year. This is because the Islamic calendar is based on the lunar Hijri calendar, with months that are 29 or 30 days long.

For nearly 90 percent of the world’s population living in the Northern Hemisphere, the number of fasting hours will be a bit shorter this year and will continue to decrease until 2031, when Ramadan will encompass the winter solstice, the shortest day of the year.

For fasting Muslims living south of the equator, the number of fasting hours will be longer than last year.

Because the lunar year is shorter than the solar year by 11 days, Ramadan will be observed twice in the year 2030 – first beginning on January 5 and then starting on December 26.

INTERACTIVE - Ramadan 2026 33 year fasting cycle-1770821237 — *(Al Jazeera)*

Fasting hours around the world

The number of daylight hours varies across the world.

Since it is winter in the Northern Hemisphere, this Ramadan, people living there will have the shortest fasts, lasting about 12 to 13 hours on the first day, with the duration increasing throughout the month.

People in southern countries like Chile, New Zealand, and South Africa will have the longest fasts, lasting about 14 to 15 hours on the first day. However, the number of fasting hours will decrease throughout the month.

INTERACTIVE - Fasting hours around the world-1770821240

[Aljazeera]

Features

The education crossroads:Liberating Sri Lankan classroom and moving ahead

Published

12 hours ago

2026/02/16

Thilina Walpola

Education reforms have triggered a national debate, and it is time to shift our focus from the mantra of memorising facts to mastering the art of thinking as an educational tool for the children of our land: the glorious future of Sri Lanka.

The 2026 National Education Reform Agenda is an ambitious attempt to transform a century-old colonial relic of rote-learning into a modern, competency-based system. Yet for all that, as the headlines oscillate between the “smooth rollout” of Grade 01 reforms and the “suspension of Grade 06 modules,” due to various mishaps, a deeper question remains: Do we truly and clearly understand how a human being learns?

Education is ever so often mistaken for the volume of facts a student can carry in his or her head until the day of an examination. In Sri Lanka the “Scholarship Exam” (Grade 05) and the O-Level/A-Level hurdles have created a culture where the brain is treated as a computer hard drive that stores data, rather than a superbly competent processor of information.

However, neuroscience and global success stories clearly project a different perspective. To reform our schools, we must first understand the journey of the human mind, from the first breath of infancy to the complex thresholds of adulthood.

The Architecture of the Early Mind: Infancy to Age 05

The journey begins not with a textbook, but with, in tennis jargon, a “serve and return” interaction. When a little infant babbles, and a parent responds with a smile or a word or a sentence, neural connections are forged at a rate of over one million per second. This is the foundation of cognitive architecture, the basis of learning. The baby learns that the parent is responsive to his or her antics and it is stored in his or her brain.

In Scandinavian countries like Finland and Norway, globally recognised and appreciated for their fantastic educational facilities, formal schooling does not even begin until age seven. Instead, the early years are dedicated to play-based learning. One might ask why? It is because neuroscience has clearly shown that play is the “work” of the child. Through play, children develop executive functions, responsiveness, impulse control, working memory, and mental flexibility.

In Sri Lanka, we often rush like the blazes on earth to put a pencil in the hand of a three-year-old, and then firmly demanding the child writes the alphabet. Contrast this with the United Kingdom’s “Birth to 5 Matters” framework. That initiative prioritises “self-regulation”, the ability to manage emotions and focus. A child who can regulate their emotions is a child who can eventually solve a quadratic equation. However, a child who is forced to memorise before they can play, often develops “school burnout” even before they hit puberty.

The Primary Years: Discovery vs. Dictation

As children move into the primary years (ages 06 to 12), the brain’s “neuroplasticity” is at its peak. Neuroplasticity refers to the malleability of the human brain. It is the brain’s ability to physically rewire its neural pathways in response to new information or the environment. This is the window where the “how” of learning becomes a lot more important than the “what” that the child should learn.

Singapore is often ranked number one in the Programme for International Student Assessment (PISA) scores. It is a worldwide study conducted by the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD) that measures the scholastic performance of 15-year-old students in mathematics, science, and reading. It is considered to be the gold standard for measuring “education” because it does not test whether students can remember facts. Instead, it tests whether they can apply what they have learned to solve real-world problems; a truism that perfectly aligns with the argument that memorisation is not true or even valuable education. Singapore has moved away from its old reputation for “pressure-cooker” education. Their current mantra is “Teach Less, Learn More.” They have reduced the syllabus to give teachers room to facilitate inquiry. They use the “Concrete-Pictorial-Abstract” approach to mathematics, ensuring children understand the logic of numbers before they are asked to memorise formulae.

In Japan, the primary curriculum emphasises Moral Education (dotoku) and Special Activities (tokkatsu). Children learn to clean their own classrooms and serve lunch. This is not just about performing routine chores; it really is as far as you can get away from it. It is about learning collaboration and social responsibility. The Japanese are wise enough to understand that even an absolutely brilliant scientist who cannot work in a team is a liability to society.

In Sri Lanka, the current debate over the 2026 reforms centres on the “ABCDE” framework: Attendance, Belongingness, Cleanliness, Discipline, and English. While these are noble goals, we must be careful not to turn “Belongingness” into just another checkbox. True learning in the primary years happens when a child feels safe enough to ask “Why?” without the fear of being told “Because it is in the syllabus” or, in extreme cases, “It is not your job to question it.” Those who perpetrate such remarks need to have their heads examined, because in the developed world, the word “Why” is considered to be a very powerful expression, as it demands answers that involve human reasoning.

The Adolescent Brain: The Search for Meaning

Between ages 12 and 18, the brain undergoes a massive refashioning or “pruning” process. The prefrontal cortex of the human brain, the seat of reasoning, is still under construction. This is why teenagers are often impulsive but also capable of profound idealism. However, with prudent and gentle guiding, the very same prefrontal cortex can be stimulated to reach much higher levels of reasoning.

The USA and UK models, despite their flaws, have pioneered “Project-Based Learning” (PBL). Instead of sitting for a history lecture, students might be tasked with creating a documentary or debating a mock trial. This forces them to use 21st-century skills, like critical thinking, communication, and digital literacy. For example, memorising the date of the Battle of Danture is a low-level cognitive task. Google can do it in 0.02 seconds or less. However, analysing why the battle was fought, and its impact on modern Sri Lankan identity, is a high-level cognitive task. The Battle of Danture in 1594 is one of the most significant military victories in Sri Lankan history. It was a decisive clash between the forces of the Kingdom of Kandy, led by King Vimaladharmasuriya 1, and the Portuguese Empire, led by Captain-General Pedro Lopes de Sousa. It proved that a smaller but highly motivated force with a deep understanding of its environment could defeat a globally dominant superpower. It ensured that the Kingdom of Kandy remained independent for another 221 years, until 1815. Without this victory, Sri Lanka might have become a full Portuguese colony much earlier. Children who are guided to appreciate the underlying reasons for the victory will remember it and appreciate it forever. Education must move from the “What” to the “So What about it?“

The Great Fallacy: Why Memorisation is Not Education

The most dangerous myth in Sri Lankan education is that a “good memory” equals a “good education.” A good memory that remembers information is a good thing. However, it is vital to come to terms with the concept that understanding allows children to link concepts, reason, and solve problems. Memorisation alone just results in superficial learning that does not last.

Neuroscience shows that when we learn through rote recall, the information is stored in “silos.” It stays put in a store but cannot be applied to new contexts. However, when we learn through understanding, we build a web of associations, an omnipotent ability to apply it to many a variegated circumstance.

Interestingly, a hybrid approach exists in some countries. In East Asian systems, as found in South Korea and China, “repetitive practice” is often used, not for mindless rote, but to achieve “fluency.” Just as a pianist practices scales to eventually play a concerto with soul sounds incorporated into it, a student might practice basic arithmetic to free up “working memory” for complex physics. The key is that the repetition must lead to a “deep” approach, not a superficial or “surface” one.

Some Suggestions for Sri Lanka’s Reform Initiatives

The “hullabaloo” in Sri Lanka regarding the 2026 reforms is, in many ways, a healthy sign. It shows that the country cares. That is a very good thing. However, the critics have valid points.

* The Digital Divide: Moving towards “digital integration” is progressive, but if the burden of buying digital tablets and computers falls on parents in rural villages, we are only deepening the inequality and iniquity gap. It is our responsibility to ensure that no child is left behind, especially because of poverty. Who knows? That child might turn out to be the greatest scientist of all time.

* Teacher Empowerment: You cannot have “learner-centred education” without “independent-thinking teachers.” If our teachers are treated as “cogs in a machine” following rigid manuals from the National Institute of Education (NIE), the students will never learn to think for themselves. We need to train teachers to be the stars of guidance. Mistakes do not require punishments; they simply require gentle corrections.

* Breadth vs. Depth: The current reform’s tendency to increase the number of “essential subjects”, even up to 15 in some modules, ever so clearly risks overwhelming the cognitive and neural capacities of students. The result would be an “academic burnout.” We should follow the Scandinavian model of depth over breadth: mastering a few things deeply is much better than skimming the surface of many.

The Road to Adulthood

By the time a young adult reaches 21, his or her brain is almost fully formed. The goal of the previous 20 years should not have been to fill a “vessel” with facts, but to “kindle a fire” of curiosity.

The most successful adults in the 2026 global economy or science are not those who can recite the periodic table from memory. They are those who possess grit, persistence, adaptability, reasoning, and empathy. These are “soft skills” that are actually the hardest to teach. More importantly, they are the ones that cannot be tested in a three-hour hall examination with a pen and paper.

A personal addendum

As a Consultant Paediatrician with over half a century of experience treating children, including kids struggling with physical ailments as well as those enduring mental health crises in many areas of our Motherland, I have seen the invisible scars of our education system. My work has often been the unintended ‘landing pad’ for students broken by the relentless stresses of rote-heavy curricula and the rigid, unforgiving and even violently exhibited expectations of teachers. We are currently operating a system that prioritises the ‘average’ while failing the individual. This is a catastrophe that needs to be addressed.

In addition, and most critically, we lack a formal mechanism to identify and nurture our “intellectually gifted” children. Unlike Singapore’s dedicated Gifted Education Programme (GEP), which identifies and provides specialised care for high-potential learners from a very young age, our system leaves these bright minds to wither in the boredom of standard classrooms or, worse, treats their brilliance as a behavioural problem to be suppressed. Please believe me, we do have equivalent numbers of gifted child intellectuals as any other nation on Mother Earth. They need to be found and carefully nurtured, even with kid gloves at times.

All these concerns really break my heart as I am a humble product of a fantastic free education system that nurtured me all those years ago. This Motherland of mine gave me everything that I have today, and I have never forgotten that. It is the main reason why I have elected to remain and work in this country, despite many opportunities offered to me from many other realms. I decided to write this piece in a supposedly valiant effort to anticipate that saner counsel would prevail finally, and all the children of tomorrow will be provided with the very same facilities that were afforded to me, right throughout my career. Ever so sadly, the current system falls ever so far from it.

Conclusion: A Fervent Call to Action

If we want Sri Lanka to thrive, we must stop asking our children, “What did you learn today?” and start asking, “What did you learn to question today?“

Education reform is not just about changing textbooks or introducing modules. It is, very definitely, about changing our national mindset. We must learn to equally value the artist as much as the doctor, and the critical thinker as much as the top scorer in exams. Let us look to the world, to the play of the Finns, the discipline of the Japanese, and the inquiry of the British, and learn from them. But, and this is a BIG BUT…, let us build a system that is uniquely Sri Lankan. We need a system that makes absolutely sure that our children enjoy learning. We must ensure that it is one where every child, without leaving even one of them behind, from the cradle to the graduation cap, is seen not as a memory bank, but as a mind waiting to be set free.

by Dr B. J. C. Perera
MBBS(Cey), DCH(Cey), DCH(Eng), MD(Paed), MRCP(UK), FRCP(Edin), FRCP(Lond), FRCPCH(UK), FSLCPaed, FCCP, Hony. FRCPCH(UK), Hony. FCGP(SL)
Specialist Consultant Paediatrician and Honorary Senior Fellow, Postgraduate Institute of Medicine, University of Colombo, Sri Lanka.
Joint Editor, Sri Lanka
Journal of Child Health]
Section Editor, Ceylon Medical Journal

Features

Giants in our backyard: Why Sri Lanka’s Blue Whales matter to the world

Published

12 hours ago

2026/02/16

Thilina Walpola

Whales in the seas off Sri Lanka

Standing on the southern tip of the island at Dondra Head, where the Indian Ocean stretches endlessly in every direction, it is difficult to imagine that beneath those restless blue waves lies one of the greatest wildlife spectacles on Earth.

Yet, according to Dr. Ranil Nanayakkara, Sri Lanka today is not just another tropical island with pretty beaches – it is one of the best places in the world to see blue whales, the largest animals ever to have lived on this planet.

“The waters around Sri Lanka are particularly good for blue whales due to a unique combination of geography and oceanographic conditions,” Dr. Nanayakkara told The Island. “We have a reliable and rich food source, and most importantly, a unique, year-round resident population.”

In a world where blue whales usually migrate thousands of kilometres between polar feeding grounds and tropical breeding areas, Sri Lanka offers something extraordinary – a non-migratory population of pygmy blue whales (Balaenoptera musculus indica) that stay around the island throughout the year. Instead of travelling to Antarctica, these giants simply shift their feeding grounds around the island, moving between the south and east coasts with the monsoons.

The secret lies beneath the surface. Seasonal monsoonal currents trigger upwelling of cold, nutrient-rich water, which fuels massive blooms of phytoplankton. This, in turn, supports dense swarms of Sergestidae shrimps – tiny creatures that form the primary diet of Sri Lanka’s blue whales.

: “Engineers of the ocean system”

“Blue whales require dense aggregations of these shrimps to meet their massive energy needs,” Dr. Nanayakkara explained. “And the waters around Dondra Head and Trincomalee provide exactly that.”

Adding to this natural advantage is Sri Lanka’s narrow continental shelf. The seabed drops sharply into deep oceanic canyons just a few kilometres from the shore. This allows whales to feed in deep waters while remaining close enough to land to be observed from places like Mirissa and Trincomalee – a rare phenomenon anywhere in the world.

Dr. Nanayakkara’s journey into marine research began not in a laboratory, but in front of a television screen. As a child, he was captivated by the documentary Whales Weep Not by James R. Donaldson III – the first visual documentation of sperm and blue whales in Sri Lankan waters.

“That documentary planted the seed,” he recalled. “But what truly set my path was my first encounter with a sperm whale off Trincomalee. Seeing that animal surface just metres away was humbling. It made me realise that despite decades of conflict on land, Sri Lanka harbours globally significant marine treasures.”

Since then, his work has focused on cetaceans – from blue whales and sperm whales to tropical killer whales and elusive beaked whales. What continues to inspire him is both the scientific mystery and the human connection.

“These blue whales do not follow typical migration patterns. Their life cycles, communication and adaptability are still not fully understood,” he said. “And at the same time, seeing the awe in people’s eyes during whale watching trips reminds me why this work matters.”

Whale watching has become one of Sri Lanka’s fastest-growing tourism industries. On the south coast alone, thousands of tourists head out to sea every year in search of a glimpse of the giants. But Dr. Nanayakkara warned that without strict regulation, this boom could become a curse.

“We already have good guidelines – vessels must stay at least 100 metres away and maintain slow speeds,” he noted. “The problem is enforcement.”

Speaking to The Island, he stressed that Sri Lanka stands at a critical crossroads. “We can either become a global model for responsible ocean stewardship, or we can allow short-term economic interests to erode one of the most extraordinary marine ecosystems on the planet. The choice we make today will determine whether these giants continue to swim in our waters tomorrow.”

Beyond tourism, a far more dangerous threat looms over Sri Lanka’s whales – commercial shipping traffic. The main east-west shipping lanes pass directly through key blue whale habitats off the southern coast.

“The science is very clear,” Dr. Nanayakkara told The Island. “If we move the shipping lanes just 15 nautical miles south, we can reduce the risk of collisions by up to 95 percent.”

Such a move, however, requires political will and international cooperation through bodies like the International Maritime Organization and the International Whaling Commission.

“Ships travelling faster than 14 knots are far more likely to cause fatal injuries,” he added. “Reducing speeds to 10 knots in high-risk areas can cut fatal strikes by up to 90 percent. This is not guesswork – it is solid science.”

To most people, whales are simply majestic animals. But in ecological terms, they are far more than that – they are engineers of the ocean system itself.

Through a process known as the “whale pump”, whales bring nutrients from deep waters to the surface through their faeces, fertilising phytoplankton. These microscopic plants absorb vast amounts of carbon dioxide, making whales indirect allies in the fight against climate change.

“When whales die and sink, they take all that carbon with them to the deep sea,” Dr. Nanayakkara said. “They literally lock carbon away for centuries.”

Dr. Ranil Nanayakkara

Even in death, whales create life. “Whale falls” – carcasses on the ocean floor – support unique deep-sea communities for decades.

“Protecting whales is not just about saving a species,” he said. “It is about protecting the ocean’s ability to function as a life-support system for the planet.”

For Dr. Nanayakkara, whales are not abstract data points – they are individuals with personalities and histories.

One of his most memorable encounters was with a female sperm whale nicknamed “Jaw”, missing part of her lower jaw.

“She surfaced right beside our boat, her massive eye level with mine,” he recalled. “In that moment, the line between observer and observed blurred. It was a reminder that these are sentient beings, not just research subjects.”

Another was with a tropical killer whale matriarch called “Notch”, who surfaced with her calf after a hunt.

“It felt like she was showing her offspring to us,” he said softly. “There was pride in her movement. It was extraordinary.”

Looking ahead, Dr. Nanayakkara envisions Sri Lanka as a global leader in a sustainable blue economy – where conservation and development go hand in hand.

“The ultimate goal is shared stewardship,” he told The Island. “When fishermen see healthy reefs as future income, and tour operators see protected whales as their greatest asset, conservation becomes everyone’s business.”

In the end, Sri Lanka’s greatest natural inheritance may not be its forests or mountains, but the silent giants gliding through its surrounding seas.

“Our ocean health is our greatest asset,” Dr. Nanayakkara said in conclusion. “If we protect it wisely, these whales will not just survive – they will define Sri Lanka’s place in the world.”

By Ifham Nizam