Midweek Review

The Kandy-floss Tea-Dance, or Walk like an Elephant

Published

3 years ago

2023/06/14

Sahan Weerasooriya

Matale Theru festival (file photo)

by Laleen Jayamanne

The Lankan ‘Tea-dance’ is a consciously-willed confection of a so-called ‘folk dance,’ attributed to the Malaiyaha women who work on the tea estates. Therefore, it is a frozen form with no basis in a living culture. Here I take ‘Kandy’ as a synonym for the hill-country, ‘Kande udarata,’ and also to describe the aesthetic quality of the artificial Tea-dance as candy, much like Bombai Motai (pink candy-floss woven of sugar and air).

Dr Sudesh Mantillake, the dance scholar and trained Kandyan dancer himself, has stated (in an original research paper) that the Tea-dance was invented in the 70s as part of a move by the state to invent folk dance traditions for the country, in the post-colonial Sinhala nationalist cultural revival, linked to various patterns and gestures associated with rural work. I am grateful to him for having formulated this field of research from a postcolonial theoretical perspective.

So, for the Sinhala girls, the kalagedi dance’ and the ‘harvesting of paddy dance’ were invented. I have photos of myself and friends doing both in primary school, wearing a cloth and choli jacket with small pots on our head. The Tamil girls in our school did Bharathanatyam, and some, irrespective of ethnicity did Manipuri, Ballet, Kandyan and even Spanish dancing at our school run by Irish Catholic nuns. According to Mantillake, distinguished Sinhala dancers and dance educators such as Pani Bharatha (with a resonant Indian name), Sri Jayana and colleagues invented the folk dances including the Tea-dance. It appears that the Tea-dance was made mostly for foreign consumption, without any engagement with the Malaiyaha communities, to popularise Ceylon Tea and also entertain the Lankan diaspora nostalgically celebrating Lankan festivals and National events. There are such shows in LA, Paris and New Zealand (I learn on YouTube), some done even by little girls of about five or six. The dancers are all girls, while usually there is a young boy as a Kangani with a cane in hand, supervising and flirting with them and creating bits of silly comedy. I discovered that the original Tea-dance was in fact British social dancing done by the colonial folk in Asia to liven up afternoon gatherings for tea-sipping and such. So, the name of the colonial masters’ dance was branded on the Malaiyaha community by the Lankan state, to sell tea.

The Tea-dance consists largely of gestures plucked from the act of breaking tender tea leaves, crudely combined with those copied from Indian films. The baskets, some small plastic ones, were tied to their back to make dancing easy, and the colourful costumes were also confected out of the transnational Bollywood film repertoire and dance moves. None of this of course had even a faint ‘ethnographic authenticity’.

The baskets the Malaiyaha women carried to work were not tied to their back (as the song in Sinhala says), but rather, were held with a long band strung across their heads which carry the weight, compressing the spine, as the neck is constantly bent to find the exact tender tea leaf. A Malaiyaha woman would only get a full days’ union award wage if they filled the large baskets with 16 kilos of tea per day!

Now, it’s this container, carrying the weight of their heavy labour, that is flung around like a light pot high in the air just for fun by the Sinhala girls rounded up to dance and prance around on a stage amidst admiring parents and a few whites. They hitch their skirts and provocatively shake and stick their hips out and carry on like some Bollywood dancers, producing pure kitsch. None of this is edifying in terms of gender stereotypes for these youngsters inculcated into ‘Lankan folk traditions.’

Mantillake cites Tamil names of a variety of folk-dance forms practised by the Malaiyaha folk and makes the point that the Tea-dance does not draw material from any of them. And in Sumathy Sivamohan’s feature film of the Malaiyaha, Ingirunthu (2013), there is a Hindu festival at the local Kovil with an extraordinary range of dancing by the devotees, both children and adults, as part of religious festivity. Some of the dancers show how their own folk-dance forms have evolved among them to include transsexual, transmedia dance gestures seen in many other parts of the world, including Indian films. I also noticed one transsexual dancer dressed as such figures did when they popped up from time to time in some early Sinhala films, such Pitisara Kella (Village Lass). Such figures were always found on urban streets, dancing for money, dressed in long twirling skirts. In those days, the name for them was napunsakaya, neither male nor female. This hybrid mixture of moves, gestures and rhythms, internalised and absorbed by the dancers at the festival, was an actual ethnographic event (of the people, by the people and for the people), filmed respectfully by Sivamohan’s camera and clearly of value to the Malaiyaha community gathered at the festival ritual to celebrate their gods.

So, the dancing of the folk at these religious festivals is not a mummified museum category among Hindu communities on the tea estates, but is, rather, open to the transnational flow of contemporary media images as well. It’s this living syncretic tradition of collective dance that sustains them spiritually and emotionally and lifts them up from their daily arduous physical drudgery. For the Hindus, dance is an integral part of the metaphysics of their religion because within its cosmology the world comes into being, and is also dissolved, by the Dance of Shiva Nataraja, the king of dance. However, the three great Middle Eastern Religions of The Book, Judaism, Christianity and Islam, focus on The Word, proscribing the primordial body in dance. And sadly, according to the bible story of Genesis, the human body is fallen, sinful, banished from paradise.

When dance is invented according to the imperatives of state patronage, without some integral local connection to the lives of people whose emotional expression it is, the result is a highly artificial dance, a parody and an insult to the folk it supposedly represents. No other South Asian country would stoop so low as to sell their own, say Darjeeling tea for instance, with such a gimmick.

Fabricated dances

These fabricated dances also run the risk of sanitisation of folk traditions of their own. When this ideology determines the school and university curricula one has a perfect recipe for recreating mediocrity, through inbreeding. Mantillake, as an educator himself, is especially critical of the deleterious effects of such a dance curriculum on schoolchildren, in promulgating ethnic stereotypes of minorities. Lankans could have studied how India revived and nurtured their vast repertoire of traditions during decolonisation under Nehru’s modern cultural policies, from song to dance, from weaving to painting and sculpture. They had lost some of their dance forms but they had the theoretical texts (shasthriya) and the temple sculpture from which scholar-dancers were able to derive the mudras and poses, create anew the Indian traditions and train the young.

This was possible also because Indian classical forms reach towards the principle of the pose of dynamic equilibrium. Just imagine Siva Nataraja poised on one leg, balancing on a tortoise while dancing with his many arms, beating the hour-glass drum. It’s a life-size bronze icon of Shiva Nataraja that the Government of India gifted to CERN, the centre for the study of quantum phenomena such as the Higgs Boson, in Switzerland. Shiva Nataraja now dances there communing with the quantum energy of the universe.

We can move from the classical to the simplest of Indian folk instruments, the bata-nalava, the bamboo flute of both Krishna and the cow-herd, to understand the richness of Indian performance modes. There is an annual folk festival of flutes of a hundred and one varieties, and folk-group dances of both men and women, who dance for days, with startling Dionysian intensity and joy. Kumar Shahani’s film of this festival is on YouTube, called The Bamboo Flute (2000). In the same film he also has Pandith Hariprasad Chaurasia play his classical flute seated on the floor of his middle-class flat in Mumbai. Perhaps, the British didn’t reach the village folk playing the flute and therefore the unbroken evolution of the form, from the folk (Deshiya), to the most sophisticated of classical forms (Margiya), was possible and is perceptible and audible to this day. This was one of Ananda Coomaraswamy’s key ideas based on his meticulous research.

Perhaps, in the first instance, the dance forms of the folk were very few in Sinhala Buddhist villages (except in rituals of exorcism), regulated by the ethos of the Temple based on the precepts of Theravadha Buddhism, with its emphasis on calming the body and mind in meditation and chanting. Is this why many Buddhists are drawn to Katharagama (a Hindu shrine devoted to the brother of Ganesh, Skanda), and the trance dancing there?). Is this also why Asoka Handagama had an extended sequence of older Dalith men and women dancing together seriously, self-forgetfully, in a secular open air space, after work, on their pay-day, in his film Alborada (2021)? I hesitate though to call it an orientalising moment in the Sinhala cinema because the dancing was given a certain respectful attention. The director’s and Neruda’s fascination with the dancing is quite mutual and rather appealing.

Whatever the case, what appears to happen in the ‘nationalised folk-dance forms’ is that girls especially have become, in my opinion, more and more narcissistic as performers, incited to be ‘sexy’, elaborating a very limited set of gestures and movements, some of which are directly inflected by provocative Indian film dance moves, pure fluff. The Popular Indian film music and dance were originally derived from the four or five classical forms, according to Paul Willemen, who co-wrote the 2-volume Encyclopaedia of Indian Cinema. His argument was that the film music and songs created a new 5th form initially, a hybrid, very outward looking one, aware also of Hollywood musicals from the 1940s. They were performed by highly trained professionals. Now, after globalisation and the internet and social media, the speedy hybridisation cannot any longer be quantified, and doesn’t even need to be for purposes of legitimisation of that once critically maligned popular cinema, because of its transnational reach, domestic social and political power.

Dance Therapy

A Kuchupudi dance teacher in Sydney decided to go back to Kerala, where she was from, and opened a dance studio which I visited once. She was about to start a workshop for a small group of young girls and told me that she was doing dance movements based on different kinds of walking rhythms. She told me to sit and observe but that I could also join in if I felt like it. My friend’s formal training was in Odissi, a classical form but she was dissatisfied with formal rigour and wanted to work as a dance therapist in a looser way, exploring movements, and had thought the many forms of walking in Indian dance would be good to start with.

Some of these are: walking like an elephant, walking like a deer, walking like a floating swan, walking on lotus flowers etc. I had previously seen these in Kumar Shahani’s films on dance, The Bamboo Flute (2000), and Bhavantaran (Immanence, 1991), a tribute to Guru Kelucharan Mahapathra, exponent of Odissi. At the opening of The Bamboo Flute, Alarmel Valli danced a magnificent invocation to Ganapathi (Ganesh), in the open air, near a temple beside a lake. There, this slim dancer also walked, swaying majestically like an elephant, with flute music in the air.

My friend’s workshop on walking was for young girls who were feeling low, withdrawn and depressed. She was interested in rhythmic walking to the beat of drums as a way of activating their feel for walking as such and generate a little energy in their body. She told me that many middle-class Indian mothers now instructed their daughters not to walk with swinging arms, but to keep them still, held beside the body as they walked. That was a code, she said, for restraining the female body of the young girls from using their pelvis in walking, the ‘pelvic walk’ being one associated with sex workers on the streets.

Triviality of Tea dance

When thinking of the triviality of the Tea-dance, these thoughts about dance therapy kept coming to me and I remembered that I found myself joining the girls, walking to the rhythms of the drums and then I found myself crying uncontrollably while still walking to the irresistible drum beats. I remembered that I was neither depressed nor unhappy then and discussed what happened to me with my friend after the class, over a cup of tea. She said that certain drum beats play directly on the nervous system and can touch one deeply, that they are primal vibrations. In Hindu metaphysics, in the beginning was sound. Whereas, according to the Bible, in the beginning was the word.

Trained Indian dancers and ordinary folk across the ages, in villages, towns and cities, have developed dance forms and rhythms, for many occasions and innumerable festivals, with immense intuition and craft skill, which connect deeply with other life worlds. All human communities are known to have danced from the beginning of time. According to anthropologists, two of the most ancient forms of dance are of people moving rhythmically in unison in undulating serpentine lines which become circular. Instead of training young girls to seduce an audience from the early age of six and boys to control them with a stick, even in jest, as in the mindless Sinhala Tea-dance, the Lankan Sinhala Buddhist cultural elite could be a little more mindful in trying to sell Ceylon tea. However, there is now a polished-up version of the Tea-dance (on YouTube, without the kangani), advertised as entertainment for local corporate events, by “Students of State Cultural Centers, Presented by the Ministry of Buddhasasana, Religious and Cultural Affairs.” (To be continued)

Michelle Jayasinghe in her book A Study of the Evolution of Lord Ganesh in Sri Lankan Culture, says that the Hindu Theru Festival was practiced all over Lanka but that the one in Matale at the Arulmigu Shri Muttumariyamman Kovil was special, in that Buddhists also actively participated in it with the Hindu devotees. She adds that it is commonly known that Muslims and Christians also contribute to and participate in it. She also indicates that this festival is of vital importance to the Malaiyaha people of the tea estates, especially given that they have lived and worked in the hill country for nearly two centuries.

“The land was originally part of a paddy field and was gifted by the owner in 1852. The current temple was built in 1874 funded by many devotees. The temple was originally a small statue under a tree prayed by the Hindu people and has been developed by the people in Matale” (The Sunday Observer, 25 February, 2018).

The thought I get from having read Jayasinghe’s cultural study is that there is a rather urgent need to undertake anthropologically based ethnographic field-research, so as to understand how folk from different ethno-religious groups have come together to celebrate five Hindu gods (Shiva, Mahadevi, Ganesh, Skanda, Chandeshvara), by building elaborately decorated chariots for each of them to be paraded through the city, as the major highlight of this festival. Here, the future researchers could also focus on whether the Malaiyaha folk have a unique relationship to this festival, as suggested by Jayasinghe, and if and how the different genders respond to it in their active participation in therapeutic dancing as well.

There is a YouTube film of the Theru festival in Matale where a young woman moves and shakes vigorously in a trance state, while an older man and a woman attend to her with care. This is clearly a therapeutic folk practice (dance) focusing on one single individual, which can’t be commodified. The Kovil itself was also ‘severely damaged’ in the 83 anti-Tamil pogrom. With such a complex history (where ethnicity, politics and religion are enmeshed in desire), the collective festive acts of healing perceptible in the Theru festival in Matale, makes it an iconic multi-ethnic event.

The unusual coexistence of feelings, sensations and emotions, of relaxation and extreme intensity (hanging on hooks, firewalking, trance states), and a continuum of moods between them helps one to observe (on YouTube again) how cultural syncretism comes into life when people mingle in an open way in a fully embodied, mindful, intimate and respectful manner, as in the Matale Theru festive milieu and atmosphere charged with incense, and song.

As Pandith Amaradeva once said, Lanka didn’t have melodic instruments to produce songs (melodies) until they were imported from India. Similarly, in the case of dance, we didn’t have a courtly or a temple tradition to generate classical dance idioms as in the case of Hindu Devadasi and the Persianised Islamic traditions of Moghul India. What we did have were the powerful therapeutic modes, the Kohomba Kankariya ritual, the 18 Sanniyas and daemon masks and the chanting, kavi and drumming. We also didn’t have a martial arts tradition as in Kerala, which contemporary Indian female choreographers have been drawing from in creating modern dance moves, empowering girls and women in India to learn to walk proudly, and defend themselves and enjoy it all as elephants do.

As I was concluding this I saw (on my friend Priyantha Fonseka’s Facebook) some of his clips of the recent Mihindu parade in Kandy celebrating the arrival of Buddhism in Lanka. He also wrote an entry describing the difference between the one he just saw with his children (going past his house) and the ones he remembered from his own childhood. He said, in the past the small perahara started from the temple school where children did kalagedi and lee-keli dances to the sound of drums. The centre piece was a float with statues of Mihindu Thero (son of Asoka), and Thisse as a boy poised to shoot a deer. Such is the parabolic scene of the introduction of avihimsa (non-violence) at the heart of the enlightening religion of Buddhism, to Lanka.

While this same float was there in the contemporary parade, Tisse was played by a real child. But marking a radical change, now there were transvestite and perhaps also transexual drummers and men in sarong and bandanas, drumming bright yellow metallic drums, setting the pace for an irresistible rhythmic walk. The last group were Kavadi dancers, both men and women, clad in red accompanied by a small orchestra of instruments including drums, cymbals, a small horn and even a saxophone (once an instrument prohibited on Radio Ceylon!). The women in bright red saris were balancing very high floral head dresses with ease as they danced. Priyantha concluded with a delightful anecdote. He said that two female spectators nearby began to move restlessly, one seated on her chair having let down her hair and other (having being invited), shooting right into the parade itself, dancing.

As a scholar of theatre, at Peradeniya University, interested in ‘audience participation,’ Priyantha observed that these two women were in their own way undoing the various defence mechanisms and taboos they (the Sinhala folk with their exclusivist ethno-religious identity) had created for themselves, to exclude ‘ethnic others’. It appears then that some of the finest manifestations, actions, of the Aragalaya have sent fresh shoots through the Lankan body politic as a cosmos-polis. Also, perhaps, the folk in Kandy, no doubt long familiar with the Matale Theru festival ethos, were well rehearsed emotionally to make such moves.

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Midweek Review

How massive Akuregoda defence complex was built with proceeds from sale of Galle Face land to Shangri-La

Published

7 days ago

2025/12/17

Sahan Weerasooriya

Defence Headquarters Complex (DHQC) at Akuregoda

The Navy ceremonially occupied its new Headquarters (Block No. 3) at the Defence Headquarters Complex (DHQC) at Akuregoda, Battaramulla, on 09 December, 2025. On the invitation of the Commander of the Navy, Vice Admiral Kanchana Banagoda, the Deputy Minister of Defence, Major General Aruna Jayasekara (Retd) attended the event as the Chief Guest.

Among those present were Admiral of the Fleet Wasantha Karannagoda, the Defence Secretary, Air Vice Marshal Sampath Thuyacontha (Retd), Commander of the Army, Lieutenant General Lasantha Rodrigo, Commander of the Air Force, Air Marshal Bandu Edirisinghe, Inspector General of Police, Attorney-at-Law Priyantha Weerasooriya and former Navy Commanders.

With the relocation of the Navy at DHQC, the much-valued project to shift the Ministry of Defence (MoD) and Headquarters of the war-winning armed forces has been brought to a successful conclusion. The Army was the first to move in (November 2019), the MoD (May 2021), the Air Force (January 2024) and finally the Navy (in December 2025).

It would be pertinent to mention that the shifting of MoD to DHQC coincided with the 12th anniversary of bringing back the entire Northern and Eastern Provinces under the government, on 18 May, 2009. LTTE leader Velupillai Prabhakaran was killed on the following day.

The project that was launched in March 2011, two years after the eradication of the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE), suffered a severe setback, following the change of government in 2015. The utterly irresponsible and treacherous Yahapalana government halted the project. That administration transferred funds, allocated for it, to the Treasury, in the wake of massive Treasury bond scams perpetrated in February and March 2015, within weeks after the presidential election.

Maithripala Sirisena, in his capacity as the President, as well as the Minister of Defence, declared open the new Army Headquarters, at DHQC, a week before the 2019 presidential election. Built at a cost of Rs 53.3 bn, DHQC is widely believed to be the largest single construction project in the country. At the time of the relocation of the Army, the then Lt. Gen. Shavendra Silva, the former Commanding Officer of the celebrated Task Force I/58 Division, served as the Commander.

Who made the DHQC a reality? Although most government departments, ministries and armed forces headquarters, were located in Colombo, under the Colombo Master Plan of 1979, all were required to be moved to Sri Jayewardenepura, Kotte. However successive administrations couldn’t go ahead with the massive task primarily due to the conflict. DHQC would never have been a reality if not for wartime Defence Secretary Gotabaya Rajapaksa who determinedly pursued the high-profile project.

The absence of any reference to the origins of the project, as well as the significant role played by Gotabaya Rajapaksa at the just relocated Navy headquarters, prompted the writer to examine the developments related to the DHQC. The shifting of MoD, along with the Armed Forces Headquarters, was a monumental decision taken by Mahinda Rajapaksas’s government. But, all along it had been Gotabaya Rajapaksa’s determination to achieve that monumental task that displeased some within the administration, but the then Defence Secretary, a former frontline combat officer of the battle proved Gajaba Regiment, was not the type to back down or alter his strategy.

GR’s maiden official visit to DHQC

Gotabaya Rajapaksa, who made DHQC a reality, visited the sprawling building in his capacity as the President, Defence Minister and the Commander-in-Chief of the Armed Forces on the morning of 03 August, 2021. It was Gotabaya Rajapaksa’s maiden official visit to the Army Headquarters, located within the then partially completed DHQC, eight months before the eruption of the externally backed ‘Aragalaya.’ The US-Indian joint project has been exposed and post-Aragalaya developments cannot be examined without taking into consideration the role played by political parties, the Bar Association of Sri Lanka, media, as well as the weak response of the political leadership and the armed forces. Let me stress that a comprehensive probe should cover the period beginning with the Swiss project to humiliate President Gotabaya Rajapaka in November, 2019, by staging a fake abduction, and the storming of the President’s House in July 2022. How could Sri Lanka forget the despicable Swiss allegation of sexual harassment of a female local employee by government personnel, a claim proved to be a blatant lie meant to cause embarrassment to the newly elected administration..

Let me get back to the DHQC project. The war-winning Mahinda Rajapaksa government laid the foundation for the building project on 11 May, 2011, two years after Sri Lanka’s triumph over the separatist Tamil terrorist movement. The high-profile project, on a 77-acre land, at Akuregoda, Pelawatta, was meant to bring the Army, Navy, and the Air Force headquarters, and the Defence Ministry, to one location.

President Gotabaya Rajapaksa’s visit to Akuregoda would have definitely taken place much earlier, under a very different environment, if not for the eruption of the Covid-19 pandemic, just a few months after his victory at the November 2019 election. The worst post-World War II crisis that had caused devastating losses to national economies, the world over, and delivered a staggering blow to Sri Lanka, heavily dependent on tourism, garment exports and remittances by its expatriate workers.

On his arrival at the new Army headquarters, President Gotabaya Rajapaksa was welcomed by General Shavendra Silva, who also served as the Chief of Defence Staff. Thanks to the President’s predecessor, Maithripala Sirisena, the then Maj. Gen Shavendra Silva was promoted to the rank of Lt. Gen and appointed the Commander of the Army on 18 August, 2019, just three months before the presidential poll. The appointment was made in spite of strong opposition from the UNP leadership and US criticism.

President Gotabaya Rajapaksa hadn’t minced his words when he publicly acknowledged the catastrophe caused by the plunging of the national income and the daunting challenge in debt repayment, amounting to as much as USD 4 bn annually.

The decision to shift the tri-forces headquarters and the Defence Ministry (The Defence Ministry situated within the Army Headquarters premises) caused a media furor with the then Opposition UNP alleging a massive rip-off. Defence Secretary Gotabaya Rajapaksa reiterated his commitment to the project. If not for the change of government in 2015, the DHQC would have been completed during Mahinda Rajapaksa’s third term if he was allowed to contest for a third term successfully. Had that happened, Gotabaya Rajapaksa wouldn’t have emerged as the then Opposition presidential candidate at the 2019 poll. The disastrous Yahapalana administration and the overall deterioration of all political parties, represented in Parliament, and the 19th A that barred Mahinda Rajapaksa from contesting the presidential election, beyond his two terms, created an environment conducive for Gotabaya Rajapaksa’s emergence as the newly registered SLPP’s candidate.

Shangri-La move

During the 2019 presidential election campaign, SLPP candidate Gotabaya Rajapaksa strongly defended his decision to vacate the Army Headquarters, during Mahinda Rajapaksa presidency, to pave the way for the Shangri-La Hotel in Colombo. Shangri-La was among the hotels targeted by the Easter Sunday bombers – the only location targeted by two of them, including mastermind Zahran Hashim.

President Gotabaya Rajapaksa is on record as having said that vacation of the site had been in accordance with first executive President J.R. Jayewardene’s decision to move key government buildings away from Colombo to the new Capital of the country at Sri Jaywardenepura. Gotabaya Rajapaksa said so in response to the writer’s queries years ago.

Gotabaya Rajapaksa said that a despicable attempt was being made to blame him for the Army Headquarters land transaction. “I have been accused of selling the Army Headquarters land to the Chinese.”

Rajapaksa explained that Taj Samudra, too, had been built on a section of the former Army Headquarters land, previously used to accommodate officers’ quarters and the Army rugger grounds. Although President Jayewardene had wanted the Army Headquarters shifted, successive governments couldn’t do that due to the war and lack of funds, he said.

President Maithripala Sirisena and Prime Minister Ranil Wickremesinghe declared open Shangri-La Colombo on 16 November, 2017. The Hong Kong-based Shangri-La Asia invited Gotabaya Rajapaksa for dinner, the following day, after the opening of its Colombo hotel. Shangri-La Chairperson, Kuok Hui Kwong, the daughter of Robert Kuok Khoon Ean, was there to welcome Gotabaya Rajapaksa, who had cleared the way for the post-war mega tourism investment project. Among those who had been invited were former President Mahinda Rajapaksa, former External Affairs Minister Prof. G.L. Peiris, former Presidential Secretary Lalith Weeratunga, and President’s Counsel Gamini Marapana, PC.

The Cabinet granted approval for the high-profile Shangri-La project in October 2010 and the ground-breaking ceremony was held in late February 2012.

Rajapaksa said that the Shangri-La proprietor, a Chinese, ran a big operation, based in Hong Kong, Malaysia and Singapore. Another parcel of land was given to the mega ITC hotel project, also during the previous Rajapaksa administration. ITC Ratnadipa, a super-luxury hotel by India’s ITC Hotels, officially opened in Colombo on April 25, 2024

Following the change of government in January 2015, the remaining section of the Army headquarters land, too, was handed over to Shangri-La.

Gotabaya Rajapaksa emphasised that the relocation of the headquarters of the Army, Navy, and Air Force, as well as the Defence Ministry, had been part of JRJ’s overall plan. The change of government, in January 2015, had caused a serious delay in completing the project and it was proceeding at a snail’s pace, Rajapaksa said. Even Parliament was shifted to Kotte in accordance with JRJ’s overall plan, Gotabaya Rajapaksa said, explaining his move to relocate all security forces’ headquarters and Defence Ministry into one complex at Akuregoda.

Acknowledging that the Army Headquarters had been there at Galle Face for six decades, Rajapaksa asserted that the Colombo headquarters wasn’t tactically positioned.

Rajapaksa blamed the inordinate delay in the completion of the Akuregoda complex on the Treasury taking hold of specific funds allocated for the project.

Over 5,000 military workforce

Gotabaya Rajapaksa’s maiden visit to DHQC on 3 August, 2021. General
Shavendra Silva is beside him

Major General Udaya Nanayakkara had been the first Director, Project Management Unit, with overall command of approximately 5,000 tri-forces personnel assigned to carry it out. The Shangri-La transaction provided the wherewithal to implement the DHQC project though the change of government caused a major setback. Nanayakkara, who had served as the Military Spokesman, during Eelam War IV, oversaw the military deployment, whereas private contractors handled specialised work such as piling, AC, fire protection and fire detection et al. The then MLO (Military Liaison Officer) at the Defence Ministry, Maj. Gen Palitha Fernando, had laid the foundation for the project and the work was going on smoothly when the Yahapalana administration withheld funds. Political intervention delayed the project and by September 2015, Nanayakkara was replaced by Maj Gen Mahinda Ambanpola, of the Engineer Service.

In spite of President Sirisena holding the Defence portfolio, he couldn’t prevent the top UNP leadership from interfering in the DHQC project. However, the Shangri-La project had the backing of A.J.M. Muzammil, the then UNP Mayor and one of the close confidants of UNP leader Ranil Wickremesinghe. Muzammil was among those present at the ground breaking ceremony for Shangri-La held on 24th February, 2012 ,with the participation of Minister Basil Rajapaksa.

Having identified the invaluable land, where the Army Headquarters and Defence Ministry were situated, for its project, Shangri-La made its move. Those who had been aware of Shangri-La’s plans were hesitant and certainly not confident of their success. They felt fearful of Defence Secretary Rajapaksa’s reaction.

But, following swift negotiations, they finalised the agreement on 28 December, 2010. Lt. Gen. Jagath Jayasuriya was the then Commander of the Army, with his predecessor General Fonseka in government custody after having been arrested within two weeks after the conclusion of the 2010 26 January Presidential poll.

Addressing the annual Viyathmaga Convention at Golden Rose Hotel, Boralesgamuwa, on 04 March, 2017, Gotabaya Rajapaksa, perhaps for the first time publicly discussed his role in the Shangri-La project. Declaring that Sri Lanka suffered for want of, what he called, a workable formula to achieve post-war development objectives, the war veteran stressed the pivotal importance of swift and bold decision-making.

Gotabaya Rajapaksa explained how the government had acted swiftly, and decisively, to attract foreign investments though some such efforts were not successful. There couldn’t be a better example than the government finalising an agreement with Shangri-La Hotels, he declared.

Declaring that the bureaucratic red tape shouldn’t in any way be allowed to undermine investments, Rajapaksa recalled the Chairman/CEO of Shangri-La Hotels and Resorts, Robert Kuok Khoon Ean, wanting the Army Headquarters land for his Colombo project. In fact, the hotels chain, at the time, had proposed to build hotels in Colombo, Hambantota and Batticaloa, and was one of the key investors wanting to exploit Sri Lanka’s success in defeating terrorism.

“Khoon-Ean’s request for the Army Headquarters land caused a serious problem for me. It was a serious challenge. How could I shift the headquarters of the war-winning Army? The Army had been there for six decades. It had been the nerve centre of the war effort for 30 years,” said Rajapaksa, who once commanded the First Battalion of the Gajaba Regiment (1GR)

Rajapaksa went on to explain how he exploited a decision taken by the first executive president J.R. Jayewardene to shift the Army Headquarters to Battaramulla, many years back. “Within two weeks, in consultation with the Secretary to the Finance Ministry, Dr. P.B. Jayasundera, and the Board of Investment, measures were taken to finalise the transaction. The project was launched to shift the Army, Navy and Air Force headquarters to Akuregoda, Pelawatte, in accordance with JRJ’s plan.”

The Hong Kong-based group announced the purchase of 10 acres of state land, in January 2011. Shangri-La Asia Limited announced plans to invest over USD 400 mn on the 30-storeyed star class hotel with 661 rooms.

The hotel is the second property in Sri Lanka for the leading Asian hospitality group, joining Shangri-La’s Hambantota Resort & Spa, which opened in June 2016.

Rajapaksa said that the top Shangri-La executive had referred to the finalisation of their Colombo agreement to highlight the friendly way the then administration handled the investment. Shangri-La had no qualms about recommending Sri Lanka as a place for investment, Rajapaksa said.

The writer explained the move to shift the Army Headquarters and the Defence Ministry from Colombo in a lead story headlined ‘Shangri-La to push MoD, Army Hq. out of Colombo city: Army Hospital expected to be converted into a museum’ (The Island, 04 January, 2011).

Yahapalana chaos

In the wake of the January 2015 change of government, the new leadership caused chaos with the suspension of the China-funded Port City Project, a little distance away from the Shangri-La venture. Many an eyebrow was raised when the then Finance Minister Ravi Karunanayake declared, in March, 2015, that funds wouldn’t be made available to the DHQC project until the exact cost estimation of the project could be clarified.

Media quoted Karunanayake as having said “Presently, this project seems like a bottomless pit and we need to know the depth of what we are getting into. From the current state of finances, allocated for this project, it seems as if they are building a complex that’s even bigger than the Pentagon!”

The insinuating declaration was made despite them having committed the blatant first Treasury bond scam in February 2015 that shook the Sirisena-Wickremesinghe administration to its core.

In June 2016, Cabinet spokesperson, Dr. Rajitha Senaratne, announced the suspension of the Akuregoda project. Citing financial irregularities and mismanagement of funds, Dr. Senaratne alleged that all Cabinet papers on the project had been prepared according to the whims and fancies of Gotabaya Rajapaksa.

The then Minister Karunanayake spearheaded the campaign against the DHQC project alleging, in the third week of January, 2015, that Rs 13.2 billion, in an account maintained at the Taprobane branch of the Bank of Ceylon had been transferred to the Consolidated Fund of the Treasury. The matter was being investigated as the account belonged to the Ministry of Defence, he added. The Finance Minister stressed that the MoD had no right to maintain such an account in violation of regulations and, therefore, the opening of the account was being investigated. The Minister alleged that several illegal transactions, including one involving Samurdhi, had come to light. He estimated the Samurdhi transaction (now under investigation) at Rs. 4 billion.

Having undermined Shangri-La and the DHQC projects, the UNP facilitated the expansion of the hotel project by releasing additional three and half acres on a 99-year lease. During the Yahapalana administration, Dayasiri Jayasekera disclosed at a post-Cabinet press briefing how the government leased three and a half acres of land at a rate of Rs. 13.1 mn per perch whereas the previous administration agreed to Rs 6.5 mn per perch. According to Jayasekera the previous government had leased 10 acres at a rate of Rs 9.5 mn (with taxes) per perch.

The bottom line is that DHQC was built with Shangri-La funds and the initiative was Gotabaya Rajapaksa’s whose role as rock solid wartime Secretary of Defence to keep security forces supplied with whatever their requirements could never be compared with any other official during the conflict.

By Shamindra Ferdinando

Midweek Review

The Hour of the Invisible

Published

7 days ago

2025/12/17

Sahan Weerasooriya

Picking-up the pieces in the bashed Isle,

Is going to take quite a long while,

And all hands need to be united as one,

To give it even a semblance of its former self,

But the more calloused and hardy the hands,

The more suitable are they for the task,

And the hour is upon us you could say,

When those vast legions of invisible folk,

Those wasting away in humble silent toil,

Could stand up and be saluted by all,

As being the most needed persons of the land

By Lynn Ockersz

Features

Handunnetti and Colonial Shackles of English in Sri Lanka

Published

2 weeks ago

2025/12/10

Thilina Walpola

Handunetti at the World Economic Forum

“My tongue in English chains.
I return, after a generation, to you.
I am at the end
of my Dravidic tether
hunger for you unassuaged
I falter, stumble.”
– Indian poet R. Parthasarathy

When Minister Sunil Handunnetti addressed the World Economic Forum’s ‘Is Asia’s Century at Risk?’ discussion as part of the Annual Meeting of the New Champions 2025 in June 2025, I listened carefully both to him and the questions that were posed to him by the moderator. The subsequent trolling and extremely negative reactions to his use of English were so distasteful that I opted not to comment on it at the time. The noise that followed also meant that a meaningful conversation based on that event on the utility of learning a powerful global language and how our politics on the global stage might be carried out more successfully in that language was lost on our people and pundits, barring a few commentaries.

Now Handunnetti has reopened the conversation, this time in Sri Lanka’s parliament in November 2025, on the utility of mastering English particularly for young entrepreneurs. In his intervention, he also makes a plea not to mock his struggle at learning English given that he comes from a background which lacked the privilege to master the language in his youth. His clear intervention makes much sense.

The same ilk that ridiculed him when he spoke at WEF is laughing at him yet again on his pronunciation, incomplete sentences, claiming that he is bringing shame to the country and so on and so forth. As usual, such loud, politically motivated and retrograde critics miss the larger picture. Many of these people are also among those who cannot hold a conversation in any of the globally accepted versions of English. Moreover, their conceit about the so-called ‘correct’ use of English seems to suggest the existence of an ideal English type when it comes to pronunciation and basic articulation. I thought of writing this commentary now in a situation when the minister himself is asking for help ‘in finding a solution’ in his parliamentary speech even though his government is not known to be amenable to critical reflection from anyone who is not a party member.

The remarks at the WEF and in Sri Lanka’s parliament are very different at a fundamental level, although both are worthy of consideration – within the realm of rationality, not in the depths of vulgar emotion and political mudslinging.

The problem with Handunnetti’s remarks at WEF was not his accent or pronunciation. After all, whatever he said could be clearly understood if listened to carefully. In that sense, his use of English fulfilled one of the most fundamental roles of language – that of communication. Its lack of finesse, as a result of the speaker being someone who does not use the language professionally or personally on a regular basis, is only natural and cannot be held against him. This said, there are many issues that his remarks flagged that were mostly drowned out by the noise of his critics.

Given that Handunnetti’s communication was clear, it also showed much that was not meant to be exposed. He simply did not respond to the questions that were posed to him. More bluntly, a Sinhala speaker can describe the intervention as yanne koheda, malle pol , which literally means, when asked ‘Where are you going?’, the answer is ‘There are coconuts in the bag’.

He spoke from a prepared text which his staff must have put together for him. However, it was far off the mark from the questions that were being directly posed to him. The issue here is that his staff appears to have not had any coordination with the forum organisers to ascertain and decide on the nature of questions that would be posed to the Minister for which answers could have been provided based on both global conditions, local situations and government policy. After all, this is a senior minister of an independent country and he has the right to know and control, when possible, what he is dealing with in an international forum.

This manner of working is fairly routine in such international fora. On the one hand, it is extremely unfortunate that his staff did not do the required homework and obviously the minister himself did not follow up, demonstrating negligence, a want for common sense, preparedness and experience among all concerned. On the other hand, the government needs to have a policy on who it sends to such events. For instance, should a minister attend a certain event, or should the government be represented by an official or consultant who can speak not only fluently, but also with authority on the subject matter. That is, such speakers need to be very familiar with the global issues concerned and not mere political rhetoric aimed at local audiences.

Other than Handunnetti, I have seen, heard and also heard of how poorly our politicians, political appointees and even officials perform at international meetings (some of which are closed door) bringing ridicule and disastrous consequences to the country. None of them are, however, held responsible.

Such reflective considerations are simple yet essential and pragmatic policy matters on how the government should work in these conditions. If this had been undertaken, the WEF event might have been better handled with better global press for the government. Nevertheless, this was not only a matter of English. For one thing, Handunnetti and his staff could have requested for the availability of simultaneous translation from Sinhala to English for which pre-knowledge of questions would have been useful. This is all too common too. At the UN General Assembly in September, President Dissanayake spoke in Sinhala and made a decent presentation.

The pertinent question is this; had Handunetti had the option of talking in Sinhala, would the interaction have been any better? That is extremely doubtful, barring the fluency of language use. This is because Handunnetti, like most other politicians past and present, are good at rhetoric but not convincing where substance is concerned, particularly when it comes to global issues. It is for this reason that such leaders need competent staff and consultants, and not mere party loyalists and yes men, which is an unfortunate situation that has engulfed the whole government.

What about the speech in parliament? Again, as in the WEF event, his presentation was crystal clear and, in this instance, contextually sensible. But he did not have to make that speech in English at all when decent simultaneous translation services were available. In so far as content was concerned, he made a sound argument considering local conditions which he knows well. The minister’s argument is about the need to ensure that young entrepreneurs be taught English so that they can deal with the world and bring investments into the country, among other things. This should actually be the norm, not only for young entrepreneurs, but for all who are interested in widening their employment and investment opportunities beyond this country and in accessing knowledge for which Sinhala and Tamil alone do not suffice.

As far as I am concerned, Handunetti’s argument is important because in parliament, it can be construed as a policy prerogative. Significantly, he asked the Minister of Education to make this possible in the educational reforms that the government is contemplating.

He went further, appealing to his detractors not to mock his struggle in learning English, and instead to become part of the solution. However, in my opinion, there is no need for the Minister to carry this chip on his shoulder. Why should the minister concern himself with being mocked for poor use of English? But there is a gap that his plea should have also addressed. What prevented him from mastering English in his youth goes far deeper than the lack of a privileged upbringing.

The fact of the matter is, the facilities that were available in schools and universities to learn English were not taken seriously and were often looked down upon as kaduwa by the political spectrum he represents and nationalist elements for whom the utilitarian value of English was not self-evident. I say this with responsibility because this was a considerable part of the reality in my time as an undergraduate and also throughout the time I taught in Sri Lanka.

Much earlier in my youth, swayed by the rhetoric of Sinhala language nationalism, my own mastery of English was also delayed even though my background is vastly different from the minister. I too was mocked, when two important schools in Kandy – Trinity College and St. Anthony’s College – refused to accept me to Grade 1 as my English was wanting. This was nearly 20 years after independence. I, however, opted to move on from the blatant discrimination, and mastered the language, although I probably had better opportunities and saw the world through a vastly different lens than the minister. If the minister’s commitment was also based on these social and political realities and the role people like him had played in negating our English language training particularly in universities, his plea would have sounded far more genuine.

If both these remarks and the contexts in which they were made say something about the way we can use English in our country, it is this: On one hand, the government needs to make sure it has a pragmatic policy in place when it sends representatives to international events which takes into account both a person’s language skills and his breadth of knowledge of the subject matter. On the other hand, it needs to find a way to ensure that English is taught to everyone successfully from kindergarten to university as a tool for inclusion, knowledge and communication and not a weapon of exclusion as is often the case.

This can only bear fruit if the failures, lapses and strengths of the country’s English language teaching efforts are taken into cognizance. Lamentably, division and discrimination are still the main emotional considerations on which English is being popularly used as the trolls of the minister’s English usage have shown. It is indeed regrettable that their small-mindedness prevents them from realizing that the Brits have long lost their long undisputed ownership over the English language along with the Empire itself. It is no longer in the hands of the colonial masters. So why allow it to be wielded by a privileged few mired in misplaced notions of elitism?