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Early marriage, starting a govt. job and enjoying the country with friends

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Excerpted from Memories that linger: My journey through the world of disability by Padmani Mendis

After marriage, there were two matters that Nalin felt we should attend to as soon as possible. One was that I should get a driving license. I knew he thought that this was to his advantage because then he would not need to drive me around. This, his motive, was not an issue. I loved driving and still do. I have decided that I will continue to drive until my reflexes tell me I should not.

I had actually been driving from the time I was hardly a teenager. At our home in Kalubowila there were always at least three or four cars parked in the garden at any one time – owned by my mother, by Uncle Lyn, by my brothers, by guests and of course Uncle Geoff’s blue Plymouth. These had to be moved in and out of two garages; or moved to and fro to let another be taken out of the gate and so on. Now here those three brothers of mine (older than I but younger than my other brothers) – the very same who would not teach me to ride a bike – taught me to drive a car. Sheer exploitation this was, and I fell for it; enjoying the task of moving the cars here and there, using a cushion to enable me to see over the steering wheel and at the same time to reach the pedals.

So now, nearly 20 years later, getting a driving license was as easy as pie. A few formal lessons from Mr. Stephenson, a very efficient teacher, was all I needed. He arranged a test for me. I recall the Inspector took me down Horton Place for a short distance, asked me to reverse the car into a side road, and that was it. I had my driving license. Nalin was happy that he did not need to be my chauffeur when he did not want to be. He did not know that from my perspective, the license enabled me to go where I wanted to, when I wanted to. It was advantageous to both of us.

The second matter he had in mind was to enable me to get the work I wanted as a physiotherapist with employment in government service. My previous experience four years ago taught us that this would be no easy task. We had to “know” someone. That “someone” we had. It was another one of my mother’s numerous cousins who was the very well-known and charming Prof. C.C. de Silva. Uncle Chummy as we knew him, was one of the best paediatricians this country has known. Nalin and I paid him a visit with Nali Akka.

“Oh,” he said, “you are Pansy Akka’s baby. You know she had so many dolls. When we played together I wanted to play with her dolls and she would not let me.” I thought to myself. I can understand why – she would have thought, why should a boy want to play with dolls?” When I asked him for the help I needed, he said that would be easy. He spoke with the responsible Deputy Director in the Department of Health and I had my letter of appointment in no time.

Coming to live next door to my in-laws

My father-in-law’s name was Garret and my mother-in-law’s was Bella. This is how everybody knew her. I think very few knew that her name was Muriel. I learned later that my father and my father-in-law had been born in the same year, 1893. He was well-known as the historian Dr. G.C. Mendis. His interest in the subject earned for him a special grant in the late 1920s to further his studies at the School of Oriental and African Studies of the University of London. He gained his doctorate in 1931 for a thesis called, “A Historical Criticism of the Mahavamsa”.

Later, in 1957, the same institution conferred on him the degree “Doctor of Literature (D. Litt)”. He taught at the Universities of Colombo and Peradeniya until he retired in 1952. This was before Nalin entered university in 1953. Nalin studied history at the University of Peradeniya. And can still talk on the subject with authority. It could be in his blood.

When he retired, Nalin’s father built a residence for the family at 17, Swarna Road. This he would gift to Nalin when he passed on. Attached to the house itself he built two apartments for his daughters Sita and Deepthi also to be gifted later. When we married, Nalin and I came to live in one of these apartments, 17/1. I was now calling them Daddy and Mummy as Nalin did. The wedding gifts we were given by family and friends helped us furnish our new home.

Daddy and Mummy and Nalin’s sisters between them gifted us an exquisite dining table with six chairs. In Burma Teak and made by Apothecaries, the best furniture maker of the time. We added to that a matching tea trolley. It was – may be still is – the custom that a wife would bring with her the bedroom furniture, and my siblings had seen to that. We still use all these pieces every day, polished regularly and still looking as good as new.

Mummy carried out another custom which was that the mother-in-law should furnish the newly acquired daughter’s kitchen. And from that gift too, I still have in use many utensils. Most of the essential utility electric items like kettles, toasters, irons and crockery and cutlery came from family and friends. Some gifted cash and this was handy for us to fill the gaps. One Sunday we drove up to Weweldeniya and purchased four cane chairs, comfortable for guests. They cost thirty rupees each.

Learning from my mother-in-law

I could not have hoped for better neighbours to help me start being a wife. Mummy was an expert cook and was always ready to teach me a new dish. Particularly those she knew her son enjoyed. Came the era of no imports, of economising, and of shortages in the 1970s and she taught me innovative cookery. And how to make substitutes for desserts and cakes – cherries using papaw, candied peel with jambola and so on. Her love cake and Christmas cake were delicious. From her I learned to make black pork curry, parippu rice and fish mustard curry. But more than that I learned the secrets of home-made bacon, ham, corned beef and salt beef.

And she helped me entertain. With the size of my family joined with his, the menu was often lamprais. Mummy had an original Dutch recipe for it from her friend Kathleen Peglott. There was a man living down on the canal bank who would be an unending source of banana leaves. We cooked the dishes over a period of some days so only the rice and the packing had to be done on the last day – and of course the baking. We had dozens to make for one meal –50 or 60 lamprais would easily be consumed during a single lunch. Many guests had to have two each. My nephew Rohan had three for his lunch.

And now, Nalin and I share one. And that too is too much. We still often entertain with lamprais. But whatever the number we require, we order these from a professional caterer. To make them at home is too labour intensive. That is my excuse.

Being a government employee

After getting our new home organised, I was anxious to start work in Ceylon once again. I had been assigned to work at what was called the “Department of Physical Medicine, Special” located in the upstairs of the Orthopaedic Clinic on Regent Street. The “Special” I believed referred to the orthopaedic service it was designed to provide. The physician in charge was Dr. L.P.D. Gunawardene, Ceylon’s second physician in physical medicine. The first was Dr. Frank Perera and he already had the DPM “General” which served the whole of the General Hospital.

The administration of physiotherapy in the DPM Special was in the charge of “MAA” Fernando, one of the gentlest men I have met. I worked with him in his room and he sent to me all those male patients who needed physio for one arm or both. If the same male patient needed physio for one or two legs he was sent to a colleague in the same room.

Females were treated in another room, while yet another room at the end of the corridor was where patients with stroke and such conditions were treated. This was staffed by a physical training instructor and a walking training instructor to accept referrals. To assist them they had one or two junior physios. This was a very busy department. Very often Dr. LPD as he was called, would summon a physio to his room and hand over to that physio a “special” patient. This would be someone known to him or who was sent by someone known to him or by another eminent person.

Nalin and I were both now government employees. As such, our salaries were very low, even in relation to the relatively low cost of living at the time. Nalin had a monthly salary of Rs. 800, but after the car loan and other deductions, he brought home a little over 600 rupees every month. On Nalin’s pay day he came home and handed me his whole salary. From which I would ensure that his purse had always a small sum of money – at least 10 rupees – every day for any expense he may incur.

I started at the bottom of the physio pay scale with 252 rupees per month. But we were surprisingly comfortable. The money I brought home every month covered the cost of maintaining our vehicle. We had no problems buying our food and other provisions at the beginning of the month, for cinema and other entertainment and for a little travel now and then.

But there were months however when cash was tight. If we wished to go the cinema at the end of a month for example and were unsure of our financial position, we poured out on our bed all the cash we had between us and sometimes counted even the coins to ensure we could afford the cost of the tickets. In spite of our fears, as I recall, we always had the few rupees we required. I think it was Rs 3.50 each for the best seats.

We were well satisfied with what we had and with our lives.

Living in our changing country

It was while I was working at the DPM Special that Ceylon gave the world its first woman prime minister. With her Government, we had a new Constitution in 1972. With this, Ceylon became Sri Lanka; then plantations were nationalised; ownership of land was limited to fifty acres per adult family member; ownership of houses was limited to one for each family member and one extra; many landowners and house owners suffered a mental breakdown at having to accept the extent of their losses; the economy became a closed one and collapsed; foreign exchange could not be exported; citizens were asked to tighten their belts; citizens could not eat rice on three days of the week; and we grew sweet potato and manioc and corn on every inch of land available in our garden to have these to replace the starch and nutrients that rice provided as our staple food.

But the country survived; in spite of all the strictures, its people survived the hardships. We had an election in 1977. The country used the vote to say no to socialism of that kind and elected a government that would open the economy and give the people their democratic freedoms – for most of the time as it turned out.

The value of friends and friendships in the early years

On our marriage it turned out that more of Nalin’s friends than mine became “our” friends. I had drifted somewhat from my school friends during my sojourn in the UK. This would change later and the bonds we formed at school did withstand the test of time. I am back to where we were with my friends. Meanwhile Nalin had an extensive social network as a bachelor and it seemed as it were, that I moved into his social network. Having spent so many years abroad as a student, I had no real social network at home in Colombo at the time of our marriage.

Quite quickly his friends were mine. Another difference – we observed that whereas many young couples spent their time together as friends in each other’s homes and moving around Colombo, our friendships took us travelling out of Colombo. This had much to do with the shared common interest in travel within our country that kind of sealed our friendships and may be made them what they were.

Most of our early holidays we spent with our friends Mervyn and Therese (Perera). We had much in common. We did not have children and lived on the low salaries of government officers. Little cash to spare but lived life to the full. We made use of the three annual railway warrants or passes allowed to such as us who worked in government and travelled by train to places that would be difficult to reach by car. We stayed, usually a week at a time, in circuit bungalows available to government officers at a low price.

Pattipola, the highest point on the railway was one. Ohiya not far below was another. Nuwara Eliya was yet another and so on. Not having the use of a vehicle was not a loss as we explored what we could of surrounding towns and areas by train. We spent many hours morning and evening, walking. Mervyn and Nalin had much in common, both taking a keen interest in horse racing. They had much to talk about. Mervyn used racing parlance in his conversations. He called me a “stayer” because I could outdo them in the length of the walk and kept a steady pace, always at the front, leading the group.

Another holiday was to spend time with Nada and Indra. Nada was at the Jaffna railway station to greet us off the overnight express. He worked in the Petroleum Corporation and had booked us to stay at the guest house run by the Cement Corporation. In his Austin A40 he showed us all the sights that had to be seen on the peninsula. My most memorable is the Keerimalai Springs used for bathing by hundreds of people wishing to avail of its mineral benefits. In the evening, his charming wife Indra would welcome us to have a meal with them in their home – could it please be local Jaffna food was our request.

Many years later we spent time with Stanley and Hermi (Unamboowe), travelling always in their Nissan SUV. Stanley loved to drive. Hermi sat by his side and was his navigator. Together we enjoyed holidaying in the south on more than one occasion, to Hambantota and from there to Bundala for bird watching. North-east to Giritale many times too staying at the Giritale Hotel run by Carsons where Stanley was a former Chairman, and exploring the surrounding countryside. More often we just relaxed in the hotel, sitting on the wide-open verandah and watching the many varieties of birds that came to the Giritale Lake. Stanley could identify almost all the birds that visited there.

Sometimes with them and at times with other friends we enjoyed the wild life parks of Yala, Wilpattu, Wasgamuwa and Uda Walawe. Together we had the joy of watching elephant, leopard, deer of many varieties, an occasional sloth bear and beautiful birds-a-plenty.



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Eastern University and the making of a culture of peace

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by Jehan Perera

There is an important change in the way peace is being understood in Sri Lanka. The notion that peacebuilding is not simply the responsibility of governments, politicians and peace organisations, but is also a responsibility of educational institutions, appears to be permeating the consciousness of at least a section of the academic community. This was visible on International Peace Day at an event held at Eastern University by the Faculty of Health-Care Sciences. The event was unusual not least because the medical and nursing faculty of the university had decided that peacebuilding was relevant to its academic and professional responsibilities.

Peacebuilding has too often been treated as something undertaken after conflict, when the fighting has stopped and the immediate task is to rebuild relationships between communities. But peace cannot be sustained by governments and peace organisations alone. If it is to become long lasting, the values and practices of peace have to become part of the institutions through which a society educates its younger generations. Universities and other educational institutions are therefore important to peacebuilding. They are among the places where the foundations of a culture of peace can either be built or neglected.

The experience of the Faculty of Health-Care Sciences at Eastern University provides a practical example of what this can mean. Led by its Dean, Prof Thillainathan Sathaananthan, the faculty organised an event which went beyond the ordinary academic scope of a medical faculty. University academics are experts in writing project proposals and applying for research grants. On this occasion, the members of the Faculty of Health-Care Sciences used those skills to apply for a UNESCO grant that they won to conduct an International Peace Day event. The significance lies less in the Rs 200,000 grant than in the decision to use the university’s institutional capacity and resources to invest in peacebuilding. The event at Eastern University needs to be understood as more than a successful university programme. It represents a possible paradigm shift in peace thinking.

Institutional Commitment

The Peace Day event obtained the support of the university administration, including Vice Chancellor Prof P Peratheepan, and reached out to secondary schools in the vicinity to mobilise their attendance. The event itself was meticulously organised. There were cultural items including traditional and modern dance and song in the three languages, performed by combinations of solo, duet and multiple singers, dancers and actors drawn in part from nearby secondary schools. There was a panel discussion by senior academics on the general theme of peacebuilding and how to prepare for it. A discussion among the students followed, where each student spoke on behalf of a religion that was not theirs. This is significant because peacebuilding cannot remain an idea discussed by specialists at conferences. It has to become part of the way institutions educate and prepare people for life in a plural society.

The Faculty of Health-Care Sciences at Eastern University has provided a model through its Peace Medicine course modules that were introduced to the curricular as a compulsory core course over 10 years ago. Two senior academics, Dr Kuveriel Eliyas Karunakaran and Dr Thillainathan Sathaananthan, have written a book on “Peace Medicine- A Health Care Concern” that was published five years ago. Its Peace Medicine Module integrates principles of medical ethics, compassion, equity, social justice and community engagement into health education and practice. In his introduction, former Vice Chancellor of Eastern University, Prof T Jayasingam noted “This book is an introduction to a theme which had already been operating in the Faculty of Health Care Sciences as a course.”

Doctors, nurses and health workers know better than anyone the harm that war and violence does. They are the people who treat the wounds and trauma that violence leaves behind. In a hospital, a patient is not asked what their religion or ethnicity is before they are treated. Health care is one of the places where peace is practised every day. The Faculty has therefore found a way of connecting its professional responsibilities with the wider social responsibility of peacebuilding. The question is whether this experience can be replicated throughout the country, at universities and at other educational institutions, so that peacebuilding becomes part of the consciousness of education itself. If that happens on a sufficient scale, it can begin to generate a culture of peace that becomes increasingly difficult to reverse.

Local Action

The Eastern University event corresponded closely to the United Nations theme for this year’s International Day of Peace, “Invest in Peace – For Everyone, Everywhere, Every Day”, which honours the “everyday architects of peace”, people driving local action, laying the groundwork for stability and building lasting peace from the ground up. The emphasis on investment is important. An investment means that something is put in: time, courage and resources. There is no more violent conflict in Sri Lanka today. But the absence of war does not automatically produce a culture of peace. The factors that fed the country’s conflict have not disappeared from the world. Racism, corruption and the violation of laws and human rights are the raw materials of conflict. So too are unresolved grievances, discrimination and the failure to recognise the suffering of others.

A country that does not deal with its past does not escape it. The past can return in the next generation. This is why the experience of Eastern University needs to be replicated countrywide, both at universities and at other educational institutions. The objective should not be to turn every academic discipline into peace studies. Rather, peacebuilding needs to become part of the consciousness of education itself. Eastern University shows that a medical faculty can develop Peace Medicine. A law faculty can examine the relationship between justice, rights and peace. Faculties of education can prepare teachers to work in diverse communities, while the humanities and social sciences can examine the different narratives through which communities understand their histories. Every institution can find its own way of making peacebuilding relevant to what it teaches.

Sri Lanka has had many declarations, pledges and programmes in the past. What matters is whether these produce changes in behaviour and institutional practice. Peacebuilding requires confronting difficult issues rather than avoiding them. It requires respect for different identities, but also engagement across those identities. It requires dealing with grievances in the present while also addressing unresolved issues from the past. It requires truth, accountability, reparations and guarantees of non-recurrence. It requires people to learn that the rights of another community do not diminish their own rights. The International Peace Day event at Eastern University was evidence of a change in the way at least some academics in a part of the country deeply affected by war are thinking about their responsibilities. Peace needs to be invested in and the most important investment will be in the minds of those who will inherit the future.

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Quality assured education commodities

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by Ahilan Kadirgamar

I have always noticed the little paper tags that are inside the packaging of some products that say quality assured or quality control. I often wonder who might have checked the product and stamped that tag, but I also forget the tag soon enough. Decades later, when I entered academia, I was taken aback by the emphasis placed on quality assurance in our universities. It is not something that could be forgotten and done away with; the entire university system is obsessed with quality assurance.

Beginning with the staff induction programme, quality assurance is drilled into the newly recruited lecturers. It is the norm, not seen as doing any harm and only trying to improve quality. It is accepted as given, and not questioned. Quality Assurance Cells and Committees are omnipresent and hover above the Departments and, at times, even the Faculty Boards. Quality Assurance reviews are feared by the Deans and Vice Chancellors. University life itself seems secondary to the rule of quality assurance. What do we make of this system of quality assurance and what are its implications for our university system?

Corporate speak

Universities globally have been going through major changes with neoliberal education policies. In many countries, universities increasingly became corporatised to be run like businesses in the 1980s. As state support for universities declined, cost cutting became the norm. They started hiring adjunct or part-time staff. Many public non-fee levying universities around the world began to charge fees. Decade by decade, tuition fees became more and more exorbitant, forcing students to take student loans. The total student debt in the United States now stands at close to US$ 2 trillion; which is about 20 times the GDP of Sri Lanka. As the higher education landscape transformed in the West, university administrations began to recruit Presidents, Vice Chancellors and administrative officials with corporate backgrounds and experience.

Such corporatisation of universities in the West has since been imported into countries like Sri Lanka, introducing a new corporate vocabulary, including quality assurance, graduate competencies, programme outcomes, intended learning outcomes, etc. University teaching has become secondary to documenting so-called outcomes. The teacher-student relationship, the environment of the lecture hall and even administering the university have been over-determined by the processes of ensuring quality. How did such major changes come about in such a short time? Indeed, academics of just two generation ago, would never have heard of these terms and processes in the Sri Lankan university system.

World Bank Trojan horse

Since the early 2000s there have been a number of World Bank projects that have drastically changed the character of Sri Lankan universities. Quality assurance as a central agenda within universities, and many other changes to the working of our universities, came through these World Bank initiatives. The Improving Relevance and Quality of Undergraduate Education (IRQUE) project and Higher Education for the 21st Century (HETC) project were two such earlier projects that set up the Quality Assurance and Accreditation Unit (QAAU) under the University Grants Commission (UGC) and established systematic quality assurance reviews for state universities. The public often thinks these are grants from the World Bank to modernise our universities. However, they are not grants but loans.

The most recent such project, Accelerating Higher Education Expansion and Development (AHEAD) is a US$ 100 million loan from the World Bank implemented from 2018 to 2023, which consolidated the quality assurance structures from the earlier projects. Furthermore, these projects are implemented with tremendous arrogance, prioritising their implementation over all other concerns in the universities, when the project over six years for example accounts for just one fourth of our budget allocation for universities this year.

The AHEAD project drastically changed course curricula, sought to increase student enrolment in science, technology, engineering, mathematics (STEM) disciplines, commercialise the university research agenda and create university-business linkages. All of this was pushed to supposedly help us face development challenges. We have heard the ideological attack on our universities and even students claiming they are “unemployable graduates”. These changes to our higher education system were supposedly going to create jobs and increase employment.

The irony of the AHEAD project is that just as it was ending in 2023, apparently after having reached its targets, the Sri Lankan economy was collapsing. The World Bank often gets the direction of causality wrong. It is the economy that creates jobs for graduates, and not the training or kind of graduates that create jobs. It is decades of World Bank policies, and those of its ideological twin the IMF, that have led to such high youth unemployment, not only in Sri Lanka but also in many other countries in the global South.

Sri Lanka entered an IMF agreement in March 2023 and started a new Country Partnership Framework with the World Bank in June 2023. These programmes have little to say about, and actively discourage, government initiatives that aim to create an industrial policy or an employment creation policy. Instead, they push for austerity measures, which not only restrict the allocation for education among other sectors, but also end up contracting the economy to the detriment of increasing employment. Their goal is the commercialisation of higher education, to make universities into businesses and run them like factories.

In this context, the ideology of quality assurance is powerful. The International Organisation for Standardisation (ISO), whose different standards are necessary for marketing, is the institution that came up with the concept of “quality assurance”. It promoted quality assurance as a process of identifying defected products. Therefore, when the World Bank promotes this conceptual framing, our students are, in fact, seen as products on the assembly line, with quality assurance processes aiming to prevent the release of defected products from the university system. For the US$ 100 million we borrowed for the AHEAD project and the many more million dollars in similar World Bank projects, there is no evidence of increased employment of graduates.

Commodity fetishism

Over a century and a half ago, Karl Marx critiqued the economic analysis prevalent at that time that associated some inherent or monetary value for commodities without considering the social relations that underlie the production of those commodities. Marx called this commodity fetishism. Furthermore, he theorised that such commodity fetishism was also a reason for the alienation of human beings from the world. If our labour and what we produce is seen devoid of the social relations that underlie them, we lose our connection with the people and the world. In this process we become alienated from what we produce and the world.

We are now in a world where our students themselves are fetishised as commodities for the market. Universities are no longer communities concerned about knowledge and human growth, but mere factories producing commodities, which have to be produced without defects to be marketed. In this way, quality assurance has become the cause for the alienation of students, academics and our universities themselves, from the larger relationship with our economy and society.

Our university system does need reform. It is grossly underfunded and not providing the financial support and facilities for our students. Universities have become hierarchical spaces without the academic freedom and democratic ethos necessary for producing knowledge. Academics and students need to engage more with their communities to make their learning and research meaningful, not to mention their contribution to and integration with society. However, when it comes to even questions of governance and regulation of the universities, such concerns are merely reduced to improving quality. In our contemporary times, this singular focus on quality assurance, as opposed to addressing the larger structural issues, is crippling our universities. There may be no way out, but to put back quality assurance where it started, those little tags on goods, to perhaps be noticed but quickly forgotten.

Ahilan Kadirgamar is a political economist and Senior Lecturer, University of Jaffna.

(Kuppi is a politics and pedagogy happening on the margins of the lecture hall that parodies, subverts, and simultaneously reaffirms social hierarchies)

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Thailand’s biggest new global star …

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The entertainment scene, globally, is agog with excitement, and, why not!

Yes, a new global star has emerged … from Thailand, and she hit the headlines by winning America’s Got Talent.

Rattikarn Amloy, known to millions by her stage name Nene Royal, was crowned the winner of America’s Got Talent (AGT) Season 21 at the live finale at Pasadena Civic Auditorium, California, taking home the USD 1 million grand prize.

The 16-year-old rocker, from the holiday island of Phuket (I’ve been to Phuket, courtesy Tourism Authority of Thailand), has struck a power chord around the world, and is the first Thai national ever to win the hit NBC show.

She beat nine other finalists, including runner-up magician Geno Ploeger, after a blistering final performance.

Nene’s story is pure rock and roll fairy-tale. She says she picked up a guitar at age seven, fell in love at the first chord, and taught herself mostly by watching videos online. That dedication earned her a music scholarship to Kajonkiet International School Phuket.

Her audition at America’s Got Talent — a swaggering, shredding rendition of The Cranberries’ classic ‘Zombie’ — exploded online, amassing over 200 million views across AGT’s platforms, more than any act this season.

She kept wowing: ‘Hysteria’ by Muse, then ‘Black Hole Sun’ by Soundgarden which earned her Spice Girl Mel B’s Golden Buzzer, sending her straight to the live shows.

For the final, she unleashed ‘Seven Nation Army’ by The White Stripes. Judge Howie Mandel shouted: “You should win. Give her the million, America.” Mel B praised her “mysterious, mystical stage presence”.

And for the grand finale, she lived every teen rocker’s dream — performing on stage, alongside US rock giants Linkin Park.

When host Terry Crews announced her as winner, the teenager collapsed to the stage floor in tears. “I’m very happy and you know I’m emotional right now,” she said.

And Thailand erupted. Her school held watch parties, posting: “You did it, congratulations, champion. We are so proud of you.”

Even Prime Minister Anutin Charnvirakul sent a personal congratulation. He had earlier hosted Nene at Government House in July, where she played guitar while he sang a Thai rock song. His office said her talent “brought pride to Thai people.”

Corporate Thailand also rallied behind her — Charoen Pokphand Foods, owned by billionaire Dhanin Chearavanont, even rented a giant billboard in Times Square, New York, to cheer her on.

With her blistering guitar solos, rock-ballad shrieks and fearless spirit, little Nene Royal has just become Thailand’s biggest new global star.

What’s more, this amazing teenager will be bringing her powerful vocals, guitar skills and signature rock-metal style to the stage, as opening act, before one of the world’s biggest rock bands, America’s Avenged Sevenfold, in Singapore, on 13 October.

Unfortunately, we are still to see a local artiste, grab the spotlight, on a global scale … like Thailand’s Nene.

Yes, they do shine, but mostly on social media, and that, too, with the aid of AI (Artificial Intellegence).

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