Features
Disce aut Discede
by Gamini Seneviratne
Form-mates, classmates perhaps in Mr. J E V Pieris’s IA, I seem to recall also the ‘J’ in J Godwin Perera. His reminiscences of those times past are indeed welcome. What follows here are some additions / amendments.
Given the heading used by Godwin and repeated here, the first of them must surely be the third option that completes that quote: Caedi (be caned). Looking back from present times, a very mild option, one would say. I was caned only once, by Mr. Bob Edwards: he had forgotten what my supposed misdemeanor was and I couldn’t tell him why I was there as I had ceased to know what it was.
Godwin’s mentioned the Senior Lit. and the Best Speaker’s prize. I was never involved in the first and had a spectacular spell at the second. I forget what the subject was but the Principal’s hand had been hovering over the bell as I passed the time limit. The judge was A B Perera, a Barrister who had served as Principal of Ananda and was to serve as our Ambassador to China. In his summing up he said that I had made a very interesting speech – but rules must be observed. He awarded the prize to Mark (L J M) Cooray who had elocuted his forgettable words finishing on the dot. (He went on to obtain all the postgraduate degrees required for a career as an academic. A high point in that was his attempt to prove that the indigenous people Down Under who had built their culture through some 40,000 years “had no right to the land”. There would have been some applause in academe.)
L H Meegama had a bicycle and some days when I didn’t join another gang up Buller’s road to Galle road I went with Meeya to his place on Vajira road. Our Mahappa’s place on Janaki Lane was almost directly across Galle road from there. His senior sister would sometimes be in the kitchen cooking – scraping coconut and such – while her fiancée chatted with her. He took up engineering and I last heard was working in the Port when he died relatively young.
And so did Tyrell Muttiah, superlative scrum-half, who lived on Galle road just by Bin Ahmed’s studio at the top of Janaki Lane. He seemed to have been born smiling and bred in courtesy. He was the most pleasant of friends.
K. Manickavasagar, Manicks, and I were immediate, next-door neighbors but we were not together in Form I A. He went into the pharmaceutical industry and headed Pfizer here before retiring to Canada.
Am sure have missed many in that class. I have asked as many of that Group of ‘Forty Nine as I could locate here: their memory, alas, is as bad as mine.
May we all make a good ending!
In that class chaired by Mr. Nathanielsz, aka “Naetta”, Mr Pieris, aka “Bada” was the presiding deity. His approval took the form of “Mr. Mendis, you are a little gentleman.” Surprising as it may be and far less often than “Mr. Mendis” though it was, he is known to have waved the wand over “Mr. Seneviratne”.
“Mr. Mendis” was Lalith, one in the cluster a few of us occupied. Among the others in it were Chulani Wickremasinghe, Laki Senanayake and Punyadasa Edussuriya. Perhaps Tyrell Mutthiah was in it too.
Of those in the periphery, a failing memory prompts the names – Nimal Fonseka, Wonkie de Silva, P S C Goonatileke, L H Meegama and H C Wickremesinghe.
I present a few notes on that lot.
Lalith was an artist and he sketched a good bit of the time. As a medical doctor he took to the study of filaria and headed that field of research. When he became Director of Medical Services and I saw him there it struck me that he was in the wrong place: he was not built to deal with politicians especially not those in the Department of Health. I suggested that he gets back to his research in an area in which he had already distinguished himself but he passed that with the sweet smile that characterized him.
Laki too did pencil sketches but they were mostly copies of figures, including horses, from the ‘western comics’. Among his skills was the pea shooter and we had exhibitions when Naetta chose to lay his head on his arm and say, “Read”! One after the other we ‘read’ and Naetta awarded marks with his free hand. There were quite a number of zeros and he couldn’t signal any more than five. Laki took aim and sent a spit-ball straight as an arrow to the bald spot on Naetta’s crown.
He took his artistic skills to Dambulla where he sold his drawings, signed kali, to tourists. Laki was and is casual about things. When, on my way to Jaffna, I dropped by to see him at Diyabubula, he had a high fever and looked quite ill. He had obtained medication from the Dambulla Hospital, he said, as he coughed out a typically c & b story – and was sharing the pills with workers who showed the same or similar symptoms. He had been ordered bed-rest and he had complied, he said, by lying flat in his jeep as it juddered around the jungle. A mutual friend, Chandra Subasinghe, lived not many miles away by the Dambulu Oya and managed to get the patient to the Matale Hospital ‘just-in-time’. (Chandra was quite as inventive as Laki and had informed the water-tax collectors from the Mahaweli that for many years his pumps had been accustomed to pumping water from the Dambulu Oya and would continue to do so. If those gentlemen had sent down water there from the Mahaweli and the Sudu Ganga, his pumps knew nothing about that).
Two desks away was Chulani who had the most inclusive collection of westerns – the Gene Autry, Roy Rogers, Lone Ranger, Tom Mix & co. freely available to us all. Such knowledge was not prescribed for us at school and Chula suffered a ‘take down’. He made up for it by topping the City & Guilds exams , migrating out there and on to the USA and thence to South America where, by his account, he out-samba’d all the experts that Rio could gather.
Punya Edussuriya’s father and mine had been at Ananda around the same time; Punya claimed that his father would have taught mine. That is unlikely – (I didn’t know it at the time, but my father had won the Senior English Essay prize in 1923 and his father could not have been that much his senior). They sat together in the pavilion at the Royal Thomian. In our first year we were among dozens of boys who encroached into the Oval grounds as the match neared its end. The boundary rope moved up or down and when Bradman Weerakoon was given out caught, Wignarajah the fielder was behind us and well behind the boundary line. We were right there and yelled that it was a six. Nobody listened. Years later when I mentioned it to Bradman he was unaware that he and St. Thomas’ had so been denied a right royal victory. Not the first time it happened and won’t be the last: the evidence of eyewitnesses is swept under, justice given no opening at all. Happens all the time.
Not many years later Punya and big brother Piyasiri were moved across to Ananda – a school that figured prominently in our family. Beginning with mother’s maternal uncle D B Jayatilaka’s contributions at the start, all our male relatives ‘on both sides’ as they say had been at Ananda: my father and his brothers, mother’s brothers, all our cousins. I was the ‘out’ chap and it happened like this. At the same time as I qualified to enter Royal I had been awarded the ‘Entrance Scholarship’ for Ananda – creating sort of competing claims. Regardless of having served on the academic staff at Ananda in the early 1900s father’s eldest brother had said, “Royal”! – after all he lived in Bambalapitiya and could keep an eye on me. That was convenient, a convenient story, but as the old man had told me the previous year (when I was a little over 9) he was disappointed in his sons.
That was the product of another pressure point. Our paternal grandmother had a cousin called Arthur Wijewardena; we had nothing to do with him but Mahappa had been in touch. All I remember is that he was an unsmiling kind of man who lived down Vajira Road next to Visakha; it had a nice garden and there was a son who sort of floated in and out of the verandah and drawing room offering biscuits. What was pertinent at the time was that he had been our Chief Justice and Mahappa had expected his sons to take to the law likewise as he himself had done. But what did they go and do? – One became an engineer on diesel locomotives and went on to become a chemical engineer (he built and ran Kelani Valley Canneries our best fruit processing factory) and the other an architect who also played piano, painted, sculpted and would you believe it? did ballet dancing. I was sort of the last chance to get the law back into his half of the family. I was to prove a disappointment too, but no one suspected it at the time.
In later years, though not for long, I made my peace with Ananda when Principal S A Wijetilleke recruited me as an English teacher. There I was to establish a friendship with V Thanabalasingham, the senior in that field, that continued as circumstances permitted through the rest of his life. Mr. Thanabalasingham’s intellectual acumen was quite on par with that of B St. E de Bruin or S Constantine at Royal. I had come to know of him earlier when, following the communal riots of 1958, my cousin, Asoka Gunasekara, wrote a short story around Thane’s experiences of those days; titled vibhagaya it was one of the best bodies of writing in Sinhala. In later years, when I mentioned vibhagaya those who had read the Kelani University literary magazine, Vimansa, assumed I was referring to a short story of mine in it that had the same title [that had to do with an actual vibhagaya, the government’s ‘efficiency bar’ exams.]
Before I continue, a brief note on the Royal Post Primary to which boys who failed to go over from Royal Prep were sent. There they were expected to adjust their focus more towards studies and away from, say, sports. One of them that year was Brindley Perera, generally regarded as the most gifted 10 year old batsman in our schools. (His nephew, Brendon Kuruppu, gave hints of how strong the genes were). Most of those who slipped at that point showed their caliber in later life. Those I recall include Susantha Samaranayake, the first Lankan to be appointed a Director / Manager at IBM; Dharmasiri Pieris, who had a distinguished career in the public sector including that of Secretary to the Prime Minister; and Sarath Weerasooria, Chairman of FINCO. My brother had moved there from Ananda and had the distinction, besides scoring a near-double century versus Carey, of being the first (only) – student to pass the SSC in the first year that Thurstan students were presented for that exam. He moved back to De Mazenod where he ended with a flourish as Senior Champion at athletics, Captain of cricket and winner of the General Proficiency prize. The police grabbed him then – and a young lawyer grabbed his girlfriend, much the prettiest schoolgirl seen at our railway station. I had written poems to her on his behalf and delivered them as she took a detour down Janaki lane where I lived on her way from the HFC to the railway station.
In the lot who got to Royal College that year (1949), 35, fully one-third, were from schools other than Royal Prep. Perhaps that accounts for the special distinction which seems to have marked that batch.
Even among 10 year-olds, Nimal / Nimma stood out for being pugnacious but was never a bully. He turned his hands to several part-time occupations at one of which, the Hotel De Universe’ he employed school friend Raja (Rahula) Silva when the then government failed to do him justice. When Raja fell asleep at wrong time of night Nimma functioned as bouncer at his hotel bar. An expatriate in England of long standing Nimma became a teetotaler I presume in mid-life: when he took leave of his business and related activities he was in great demand at parties – for drive-home services. “They get cocked and talk cock” he said, “so I stopped going for parties”. He continues his interest in topology and is last known to have remained more or less certifiably sane.
W K N Silva was a Proprietary Planter with tea and rubber in the Ratnapura district. I believe that two of his sisters married a pair of brothers. In his latter days he took exception to being called “Wonkie”; he said it should have been applied to Nalin (WNK) Fernando, journalist, because the name fitted him, initials and all. He had a sufficient number of siblings to retain the bulk of their estate after Land Reform.
Occasionally initials provided a convenient name – say, Jabba for JB. Susantha Goonatileke’s PSC was tempting and tempted. He chose engineering as did his cousin C L V Jayatileke (who proceeded all the way in mechanical engineering) but he took his BSc (Eng) and changed course towards the social sciences. It was a move that opened a range of intellectual challenges for him and brought his academic work into discussion at fora around the world. His son is perhaps way and away the wealthiest among us in the next generation.
H C (Channa) Wickremasinghe was one of the brightest among us but health-related hiccups prevented his full development as a scholar. Turner, his architect brother was a left arm spinner of a most mean disposition who played for Royal. Channa was content to send down mostly friendly off breaks of which he had a good opinion.
Godwin relates an incident concerning our ruggerites et al and he attributes the report on it to Mr. Orloff, Principal of Trinity College. As I recall, the Trinity Principal at the time was a Mr Walters and the incident had occurred not in a room at the Trinity hostel but on the train down from Kandy. However that may have been punishment was meted out as Godwin says. I was co-editor with Nihal Jayawickrema of the school magazine and inserted some quotes in the space for footnotes: one and all pointed towards the merits of forgiveness.
The Principal, Mr. Dudley K G de Silva, sent for me. I was met at his door by Mr. Elmo de Bruin who served as Manager of the Magazine. When the Principal saw that I was not without back-up he asked Mr. Bruin whether he had approved the insertions and he replied, “I have the fullest confidence in their judgment, Sir” spreading the blame.
Principal de Silva tended to take the word of fellow Principals a bit uncritically. I noticed that the Thomian magazine that year had carried a poem published some years previously in ours and wrote a little note to the Thomian editor, Ranjith Wijewardena, ribbing him about it. Instead of writing back in similar vein Ranjith had taken my note to his Warden – who had promptly phoned our Principal. Predictably I was sent for. As the fates decreed, I ran into Bruno on my way there. He heard me out and strolled into the Principal’s office ahead of me. He asked me to show the evidence to the Principal and suggested that “if ‘these Thomians’ had any sense they could have said they don’t retain past copies of our Magazine”! Writing from Jamaica a life-time later, Bruno recalled such and other ‘happenings’ of his years at Royal. There must be hundreds still around who miss him.
Features
Justice must not end at the prison gate
The recent tragedy at Negombo Prison has forced Sri Lanka to confront an uncomfortable reality. While public attention has understandably focused on the deaths that occurred, the incident has also exposed something far more fundamental: the appalling conditions under which thousands of prisoners are compelled to live every day.
Reports indicate that a prison designed to accommodate about 900 inmates was holding nearly 2,400. Such overcrowding is not merely an administrative inconvenience. It inevitably produces conditions that no civilised society should tolerate. Disease spreads rapidly. Sanitation collapses. Food and healthcare become inadequate. Sleeping space becomes scarce. Opportunities for exercise disappear. Human dignity is steadily eroded.
The consequences extend beyond prisoners themselves. Overcrowded prisons create greater tension, violence, corruption, gang influence, drug trafficking, deteriorating staff morale and increased security risks. Eventually, these pressures explode into tragedies that shock the nation until public attention shifts elsewhere and the cycle repeats itself.
It is tempting to regard prison administration as the exclusive responsibility of the Department of Prisons. That would be a mistake.
Every person who enters prison does so because a judicial officer has exercised the authority of the State. Judges remand suspects or sentence convicts. Yet, once the prison gates close, the justice system effectively loses sight of the conditions in which those individuals are confined to.
This institutional separation deserves careful reconsideration.
Courts do not sentence people to disease, degradation or inhumane living conditions. They sentence them to the deprivation of liberty. There is an important distinction between lawful punishment and unnecessary suffering. When prison conditions themselves become cruel, degrading or dangerous, society has gone beyond what the law intended.
This principle is firmly recognised in international law.
The United Nations Standard Minimum Rules for the Treatment of Prisoners, better known as the “Nelson Mandela Rules” , establish universally accepted standards governing accommodation, sanitation, medical care, nutrition, discipline and respect for the inherent dignity of prisoners. They emphasise a simple but profound principle: although prisoners lose their liberty, they do not lose their humanity. Every person deprived of liberty must continue to be treated with dignity and respect.
Sri Lanka has repeatedly affirmed its commitment to these principles. The challenge is not one of aspiration but of implementation.
One practical reform could significantly improve accountability without requiring major legislative change.
Every Magistrate and Judge whose orders result in persons being detained should be required to visit the prisons within their jurisdiction at least once every three months. Following each inspection, they should submit a concise report to the Ministry of Justice, with a copy made publicly available through the media. The report need not interfere with prison management. Instead, it should objectively assess whether basic standards of safety, sanitation, healthcare, accommodation, nutrition and human dignity are being maintained.
Such inspections would not compromise judicial independence. On the contrary, they would strengthen public confidence in the administration of justice by demonstrating that the judiciary remains concerned not only with imposing lawful punishment but also with ensuring that such punishment is carried out in accordance with the law and accepted standards of humanity.
Comparable oversight already exists in many Commonwealth jurisdictions.
In the United Kingdom, prisons are subject to regular independent inspections carried out by His Majesty’s Inspectorate of Prisons, while Independent Monitoring Boards provide continuous civilian oversight of prison conditions. In India, prison legislation provides for regular inspections by judicial officers, recognising that courts retain an enduring interest in the welfare of those whom they commit to custody. Australia and New Zealand similarly maintain independent inspection and monitoring mechanisms designed to ensure transparency, accountability and compliance with human rights obligations.
These systems recognise an important truth: prison oversight cannot be left solely to prison authorities.
Sri Lanka need not replicate these models in every detail. Our institutions and resources differ. But the underlying principle remains equally relevant. Those entrusted with sending individuals into custody should have periodic opportunities to satisfy themselves that those institutions meet minimum standards consistent with law and human dignity.
Such a reform would also have practical benefits. It would generate reliable information for policymakers, encourage timely maintenance and investment, identify overcrowding before crises emerge, strengthen parliamentary oversight and provide prison administrators with objective evidence when seeking additional resources. Above all, it would remind every public institution that prisoners remain under the protection of the law.
The words painted on many prison walls—”Prisoners are also human beings”—express an admirable sentiment. Yet slogans alone do not protect dignity. Walls cannot guarantee humane treatment. Accountability can.
The measure of a nation’s civilisation is not determined by how it treats its most privileged citizens. It is revealed by how it treats those who possess the least power—including those behind prison walls.
If the Negombo tragedy teaches Sri Lanka anything, it should be this: justice cannot stop at the courtroom door. It must travel all the way to the prison cell. Only then can we honestly claim that ours is a justice system worthy of its name.
by Dr. A. N. C. FERNANDO
Features
The Hallmarked Man
Tales of Mystery and Suspense 9
From the most orthodox of recent crime writers to a very unorthodox one, J K Rowling of Harry Potter fame. After that series concluded, and one not very successful novel about social problems, she turned to a private investigator called Cormoran Strike who, together with his assistant Robin Ellacott (hired initially as a secretary, but providing sterling support which Strike realizes he needs), solves murder mysteries.
I had read several of them previously but not owned any in the series. But when a friend came out from England earlier this year and asked what I would like, I said the latest Strike would be ideal. He duly turned up with The Hallmarked Man albeit he also brought along a box of Fortnum and Mason Turkish Delight, which was much more delectable.
The Strike indeed was not delectable at all, though it was a most exciting read. Rowling seems more often than not to concentrate on the dregs of humanity, and this particular book had two different sexual perverts, a gang that had fights to the death between killer dogs which they and a whole host of onlookers bet on, and another of girls kept captive for sex. And the less ghastly characters furnished endless episodes of adultery and significant incest.
The plot was based on a body found in the vault of a dealer in silver, the night after he had taken delivery of much of the collection of a Freemason. The body had been mutilated, and could not be recognized, but the police decided very soon that it was the body of a gangster killed at the orders of his uncle who ran the gang. But a woman called Decima Mullins hired Strike to prove if he could that this was the body of her boyfriend, who had suddenly disappeared, after he had fathered a baby with her. She believed he had found employment in the shop under the name William Wright.
She was desperate, being the daughter of a rich club owner who despised her, and having finally found love did not want to accept that the much younger man had left her. Strike decided to take on the case, bizarre though it seemed, and soon established that the police had been careless, not even bothering with a DNA test, largely it seemed because the man in charge of the case was a Freemason and seemed to think it his duty to protect the Freemasons from any hint of having been involved.
The police had received two other leads as regards missing persons, but they had dismissed them as not worth pursuing. One was a former SAS man who had been injured in a shady operation, and when Strike was pursuing the case he was told by a worthy who seemed to be from MI 5 that he should back off. The other was a youngster who had left the little town of Ironbridge where he had lived all his life when he was accused of having tampered with a car which led to the death of a boy and his girlfriend, the story being that he had been in love with the girl.
It takes Strike a very long time to arrange interviews with the widow of the SAS man, who lived in Scotland, and the grandmother of the other who was near enough to the border. One reason he had taken on the case, he had to admit to himself, was that he welcomed the opportunity to travel a long distance with his partner Robin Ellacott, with whom he had finally acknowledged to himself he was in love.
Cormoran Strike’s realization that he was in love with his partner could well have come too late, for she was in a steady relationship with a policeman, and they were thinking of moving in together into a house, having been sleeping together at his place or hers for some time. Much of the novel is taken up with the ratiocination about their feelings of the two detectives, compounded by Robin’s unwillingness to let down the policeman Ryan Murphy who is going through a tough time at work, and by the endless affairs Strike had had in the past, one of which came back to haunt him at a particularly bad time.
Life is also complicated by a new assistant who had left the police and joined the firm, who tried to actively flirt with Strike while ignoring Robin. Going into detail about all this would be tedious, but though one often wished Rowling engaged in less repetitive analysis of the diffidence of the pair, I suppose such delicacy is not inconceivable in a pair who had been through so much – Robin’s first marriage had been a disaster, following on her being raped while a student, while Strike’s first love had recently committed suicide, after endless efforts to get involved with him again.
After Strike had made elaborate preparations to stay in a hotel that would provide a suitably romantic setting on the trip to Scotland, Robin said she would not come, after another revelation about Strike’s previous indiscretions. They did meet in Ironbridge, and then worked together well, in interviewing the grandmother and also a neighbour whose daughter had it seemed to have been involved with the now vanished Tyler Powell, but had turned against him after the accident involving his car.
Meanwhile Strike had received a note alleging that the body was that of a porn star and, having traced the woman who had dropped it in, found that he had been used by an unctuous peer to have sex with women which he watched through a two-way mirror. Dick de Lion had attempted some sort of blackmail on the peer, who had then wanted him eliminated.
Strike deduced that de Lion came from Sark, and he and Robin went there, to find him alive and well, but desperate to stay hidden. He was told that the peer was going to be exposed, and advised to tell the police his story first, to ensure he was not charged as an accessory, and he agreed to do this at the urging of his brother, who had previously not believed his story. But they wanted time to break the story first to their mother.
Strike had reason to dislike the peer, since he had got involved in vilifying Strike in association with a journalist who had accused Strike of paying call girls for information and then sleeping with them himself. This in turn was because Strike, or rather his new recruit from the police, Kim, had found that a woman they were trailing because her husband was suspicious was in fact having an affair with the journalist’s wife.
As the above description of its first section shows, The Hallmarked Man is horrendously complex, and the complex peccadilloes of practically all its characters seem excessive even in a wicked world. But all these are put in the shade by the central villainy of the book, which is sexual trafficking which has led to young girls being taken captive for sex, and murder, for a variety of reasons.
Strike and Robin first begin to suspect what is going on when they interview the downstairs neighbours of William Wright, the name used by the man working in the shop, though that brought them no nearer to establishing his identity before he had taken on the persona that had sought a job in the silver shop. The neighbours mentioned a woman and a man who had come to his room to strip it, and they soon deduce that a body found in a wood was that of the woman. The man they suspect is a shady character who called himself Oz on social media, having taken on the identity of a genuine music show producer. The latter had been traced because there were emails to him from the silver shop, but he had an alibi for the time of the murder.
The other man could not be traced, but his technique, of inveigling young girls to go along with him, was clear, and Strike and Robin tried to trace one in particular whom he had tempted. It also transpires that a name Wright had mentioned in front of his neighbours belonged to a woman mentioned in Belgium some years back. Though Strike thought this far-fetched when Robin tried to find more information about her, there was corroboration in that she was Swedish, a single mother, and Oz had told the missing girl, according to her friend, that she reminded him of a Swedish girl he knew.
Strike’s focus begins to crystallize when he realizes that the handyman in the silver shop, Jim Todd, had a shady past, which involved driving for the ring trafficking women including in Belgium. But he had been in jail there when the Swedish woman was murdered. Her body had been found in a wood, and it was assumed her infant daughter too had been killed, and her new partner was jailed for the murder. But the remains had been mutilated and it was possible that there had only been one body there. The parts needed for DNA had been cut away, as had happened with the body in the silver vault.
Watching again and again the video footage, though it was not very clear, of what happened on the afternoon before the murder took place, Strike and Robin noticed some anomalies, most notably that the very heavy crate Todd and Wright had carried downstairs seemed to have had very little in it. And they worked out that a woman who had kept the manager upstairs for some time could well have been Sophia Medina, who had gone to Wright’s room and then been murdered.
When Todd then is murdered, along with his mother, whose flat he had gone to for refuge, Strike begins to understand the rationale for the murder taking place in the vault, with the mutilation of the body designed both to disguise its identity and suggest that Masonic elements were involved. Then step by step the different elements in the whole conglomeration of horrors were resolved.
The man who ran the dogfights was caught trying to take revenge on the person who had destroyed a dog he was looking after which he thought too dangerous to keep – though that was after Strike, in trying to catch him in the act, was mauled by a beast and only saved because Robin carried around with her a pepper spray, which also proved effective when one of the agents of the biggest villain, having tried to frighten her off, then tried to kidnap her.
The loathsome lord had to listen to an account of his misdeeds at a dinner to which he had invited Strike and Robin, and then brought along the dodgy assistant who had left after Strike had made it very clear he found her advances offensive. Strike explained his host’s techniques, and Kim realized that she too had been watched, and filmed, having sex with a stud she had been introduced to. The host departs in high dudgeon, but the expose in the newspapers duly happens and de Lion earns a packet for his story.
And then, having worked out exactly how the murder had happened, in the afternoon, with the murderer brought in in a crate and killing Wright while the manager was distracted, and then leaving the shop disguised as him, Strike sets off to confront him. Robin meanwhile finds the missing silver behind a false wall in the basement, put there by Todd that afternoon, while Wright had been sent to fetch a piece delivered elsewhere by the delivery man who had also been a driver for the trafficking ring – and who also died soon after the incident, though there did not seem to have been foul play in this case.
Strike, along with his toughest assistant, and a police officer who had retired and joined him, breaks into the villain’s house when he had gone to the pub with his mates. But one of the gang is left behind, which is fortunate for he shows the basement used for relentless sex by several men with the girl held captive. Strike knocks him out and subdues the villain who nearly cuts off his ear in the process, and then his assistants turn up and handcuff the two men who had failed to flee in time, and also the two men in the basement. And while the policeman frees the girl, Strike engages in ruthless questioning, helped by some force from his other assistant, since he also wants on record how and why the man in the vault had been killed.
High drama all the way, though interspersed with the story of Strike and Robin, which ends with him proposing to her just before she goes to the Ritz to have dinner with her boyfriend, knowing that he too is about to propose to her. She does not accept Strike, since obviously this story has to run and run. But the story of the client has a reasonably happy ending, because her boyfriend is discovered, and turns out to have had a very good reason for leaving her, namely that he was her half-brother – another quirk in a totally quirky, if gripping, tale.
Features
Beyond one-night stand: Reimagining Colombo’s tourism landscape
(The writer is on X as @sasmester)
Over dinner in Colombo a few nights ago, a friend in the private sector with connections to the hospitality and advertising industries brought up a persistent ‘industry concern.’ Despite a heartening surge in post-crisis tourist arrivals, most visitors treat our capital city as a mere pitstop. They check in, sleep off their jet lag, and vanish the next morning to the pristine beaches of the South, the misty hills of the Central Province, or the cultural triangle.
When hoteliers expressed frustration that it was impossible to retain these visitors for an additional 24 to 48 hours because ‘Colombo has nothing of interest to offer,’ many in the room were taken aback. There is, after all, a fundamental difference between a city lacking substance and a tourism industry lacking the imagination to sell it. Is Colombo truly a dreary concrete jungle, or are we simply blind to its latent potential?
While the state invests heavily in marketing traditional attractions — and shifting focus toward lucrative sectors like destination weddings, the broader spectrum of urban possibilities remains criminally ignored. If we define ‘Colombo’ not just as Fort and Kollupitiya, but everything accessible within a two-hour drive , we possess an abundance of untapped possibilities capable of captivating discerning travellers without exhausting them before their onward journeys.
The Green Lungs of the Capital
For nature enthusiasts, we have the luxury of pristine biodiversity right on the city’s fringes. The Beddagana and Kotte Rampart Wetland Parks offer tranquil, morning or evening walks even in humid conditions that local residents take for granted but visitors might find remarkable. Beddagana, an 18-hectare protected sanctuary nestled along the Diyawanna waterway, features beautifully constructed wooden boardwalks cutting through lush mangroves. It is a haven for birdwatchers, hosting around 80 species of resident and migratory birds. Meanwhile, the Kotte Rampart Wetland Park allows visitors to walk right through a delicate marsh ecosystem while tracing the 14th century fortifications and inner moat (Athul Diya Agala) of the historic Kotte Kingdom.
For those willing to drive just over an hour toward Avissawella, the 106-acre Seethawaka Wet Zone Botanical Garden in Illukowita offers a grander scale of escape. Opened in 2014 to conserve the unique flora of our wet lowland rainforests, it boasts of rolling lawns, a rose garden, a scenic mountain viewpoint, and massive Kumbuk trees flanking freshwater streams.
Yet, these locations desperately require institutional polish: regular maintenance, curated culinary spaces, and seamless ticketing systems are non-negotiable if we expect high-spending tourists to visit.
Curating Culture, Cuisine, and Canvas
Beyond nature, our urban spaces, culinary arts, and contemporary visual culture remain heavily siloed from mainstream tourism.
Consider gastronomy. Over the past couple of years, specialty Sri Lankan restaurants like ‘Lisa’s Lanka’ in Bandra, Mumbai, and ‘Zetu’ in Mehrauli, Delhi, have taken the Indian metro culinary scene by storm. Concurrently, well-known local and overseas food writers like Cynthia Shanmugalingam, Meera Sodha, O Tama Carey, Dom Fernando, Rukmini Iyer, and Nuzrath Shazeen have brought global prestige to Sri Lankan cuisine. Yet, look at our standard tour itineraries –– where is the structural and organized push for curated culinary tourism?
Similarly, while cities like Mumbai and Delhi have transformed their colonial quarters into thriving, structured walking and vehicular tours, Colombo lags behind. Mumbai’s colonial quarter covering areas such as Colaba, Fort and Churchgate, as well as Delhi’s much larger older parts have become established aspects of vehicular and walking tours of these cities. Usually, these tours not only take into account where to visit and how, but also climatic conditions and where to rest and refresh. These are mainstream enterprises.
- Colombo Fort
- Painting by Jagath Weerasinghe
Given that our capital is far more compact and our traffic significantly more manageable than India’s messy and congested mega-cities, designing specialised, time-blocked architecture-art tours is entirely viable. We could seamlessly weave the colonial heritage of Fort and Pettah, the Dutch Hospital, and the Independence Arcade,etc., with different kinds of shopping in some of these same locations. Such tours can also combine ‘museum hopping’ linking the Colombo Dutch Museum, Colombo Port Maritime Museum and the National Museum – notwithstanding all these institutions need major upgrading. Museum tourism may also be organised independently depending on the needs of tour groups or individuals.
The vibrant religious architecture of our historic temples, churches, mosques, and kovils offer another possible tour package. This is not merely about architecture but can also have a focus on the elegant late 19th and early to mid 20th century Buddhist murals in temples such as Subodharamaya in Dehiwala, Ashokaramaya and Isipathanaramaya in Thimbirigasyaya and Subdraramaya in Nugegoda as well as Kelaniya Rajamaha Viharaya and much more recent and stylistically different paintings in Bellanwila Rajamaha Viharaya. These tours are not meant to be religious excursions and therefore can also be intermingled with shopping and culinary excursions. Depending on the available time and the distances covered, they can be walking tours or a combination of motorised transport and walking.
At the moment, though such guided tours in Colombo are offered by a few individuals and some overseas companies, there are no specialised tours that consider different interests and tastes.
Furthermore, we completely ignore our visual culture. Over the last two decades, contemporary Sri Lankan artists have made phenomenal strides globally. Their works sit in prestigious international institutions, from the Fukuoka Asian Art Museum and the Kiran Nadar Museum of Art to the Queensland Gallery of Modern Art and the Guggenheim Abu Dhabi. Contemporary Art is one area in which Sri Lanka has been able to compete with the world and has become a considerably important business whose scale and potential is still ill-understood locally. While our National Art Gallery in its current state is unequipped for international tours, the city’s private galleries and suburban artists’ studios could easily be woven into ‘art-viewing-buying and dining’ experiences.
The MICE Frontier: Colombo as South Asia’s Safe Haven
One of the most glaringly overlooked opportunities lie in MICE (Meetings, Incentives, Conferences, and Exhibitions) tourism. Even though the government has made some efforts in this direction, it needs more aggressive promotion. As corporations and international bodies seek premier regional destinations for conference tourism, Colombo stands out as an ideal oasis.
While historical hotspots and conference and meeting locations across South Asia are increasingly marred by geopolitical friction, civil unrest, or complex security and visa paradigms, Sri Lanka offers a stable, peaceful, and highly secure environment. Compared to what Ashish Nandy calls, the ‘garrison states’ of South Asia, Sri Lanka remains the only easily accessible location for anyone from the region or the world. In this situation, Colombo possesses the exact trifecta required for high-end conference tourism: premium five-star coastal hotels, state-of-the-art convention facilities, and an incredibly warm, hospitable populace. By positioning Colombo as the secure, neutral boardroom of South Asia, we can attract thousands of high-net-worth corporate travellers who naturally extend their business trips into leisure stays.
Conclusion: A Call for Collective Imagination
In my mind, the thematic blueprints outlined here — from eco-tourism and heritage walks to contemporary art and corporate conferences — are designed for high-end, niche markets.
To transform Colombo from a transient pitstop into a mandatory two-day destination, these niches must be integrated into a cohesive national tourism strategy and championed by our diplomatic missions abroad as well as the Sri Lanka Tourism Development Authority. The lingering question is whether our state agencies and major tour operators possess the capacity to think beyond the beaten path. If the bureaucracy remains stagnant, the impetus must come from Colombo’s premier hoteliers themselves. By collaborating with local historians, environmentalists, artists, and culinary experts, the hospitality industry can bypass state lethargy and lack of imagination, curate these experiences independently, and finally give the global traveller a reason to stay in our main city. Ultimately, Colombo is not merely a transit point, but a living museum shaped by the tides of history. As a port of call nourished for ages by foreign tongues, multiple cultures, trade, and traditions, it offers a rich tapestry that cannot be unraveled in a single day; it is a city that demands, and richly deserves, more than just twenty-four hours to reveal its true soul.
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