Features
Sportsmanship – Australian Style
by Vijaya Chandrasoma
I am neither a cricketer nor a sports writer, just an avid enthusiast of the game. I am in total agreement with the sentiments expressed in the excellent letter penned by Mr. S. Skandakumar to legendary English umpire, Mr. Simon Taufel, on his comments about the incident relating to the dismissal of Jonny Bairstow during the second Ashes test at Edgbaston a couple of weeks ago.
Though Taufel argued that this controversial decision changed the complexion of the entire match, he said, “Correct decision made. They (England) just didn’t like it. For that ball to be considered dead, both sides need to disregard it is in play. Clearly, the fielding side hadn’t”.
I am not trying to dispute the opinion of one of the greatest umpires ever to grace a cricket field. However, strictly according to the rules of cricket, there is one aspect of this dismissal which is definitely a grey area, which should have played an important role in the final decision of the third umpire. A grey area is defined as “an ill-defined situation or area of activity not readily conforming to a category or set of rules”. In other words, a matter of doubt.
Giving the benefit of the doubt to the batsman is not merely a tradition in the game. It is the Law. This is especially true of the LBW rule. LBW is governed by Law 36, which states that “the striker is out LBW if he intercepts the ball with any part of his person and but for the interception, the ball would have hit the wicket”. Unfortunately, the decision that the umpire is faced with making within seconds is not humanly possible. No one, not even modern technology, can predict to a certainty the path the ball will take after it hits the pad. There are too many extraneous factors – the wind, the degree of the spin and turn of the ball – which make a 100% accurate decision well-nigh impossible.
Today’s technology, in the form of the Decision Review System (DRS) has made matters infinitely easier for the field umpire in the decision of most dismissals. For example, DRS is invaluable in the event of a snick, to determine whether the ball had taken even a minute edge with the bat before being caught by the wicket-keeper, an edge at times not discernible to the human eye.
However, where an LBW appeal is concerned, the DRS confirms or overrules the decision based often on the “umpire’s call”. If the umpire puts his finger up, then the batter is out, if DRS determines that the ball would have hit any part of the stumps and bails. But if the umpire rules NOT OUT, the batter is deemed NOT OUT if the ball hits the outside half of the leg stump, the off stump or the top of the bails.
So in the event of the umpire’s NOT OUT decision, even the DRS gives the benefit of the doubt to the batsman.
According to the Laws of Cricket, the ball is considered dead once the fielding side and both batters have ceased to regard it as in play. At Edgbaston, the batter, Bairstow clearly regarded the ball as dead, having ducked under an innocent bouncer from bowler Cameron Green and seeing the ball nestled in wicketkeeper Carey’s gloves. He was in no way trying to steal an unfair advantage to get an extra run. On the other hand, Carey having caught the ball, saw that Bairstow had wrongly assumed the ball was dead, took unfair advantage of a justifiable misconception and threw the ball at the stumps.
There is no way that Marais Erasmus, the third umpire could have made a certain decision that the ball had settled in the wicketkeeper’s gloves for the required time to be called a dead ball. I have seen many catchers in the field throw the ball in the air immediately after making the
catch, in exultation, in less time than the ball had nestled in Carey’s gloves.The correct thing for Carey to do would have been to warn Bairstow before the stumping. The correct thing for Aussies’ Captain Cummins to do, after the dismissal was confirmed by the third umpire, would have been to call Bairstow back. But these are Australians. To expect them to do the gentlemanly thing is optimistic, to expect them to even do the legal thing is a matter of hopeful conjecture.
Remember Sandpapergate, the 2018 ball tampering scandal in an Australian test match against South Africa. The then Australian captain, Steve Smith and vice-captain, David Warner were both found guilty of collusion in that dastardly attempt by the bowler to sandpaper the ball to enhance its swing. This was not a misdemeanor of bad sportsmanship; it was a cricketing felony of a heinous nature. An illegal attempt to gain a distinct advantage by altering equipment with the specific motive of bowling out the opposing batters.
These two “gentlemen” are now playing for Australia in the current Ashes series, having escaped committing an act of brazen cheating with a mere slap on the wrist. English Seamer, Stuart Broad told Carey, “You’ll be forever remembered for that.” No, he won’t. This is an incident which will probably never happen again. Carey will be remembered as just another Australian who is a stranger to the concept of sportsmanship.
It would be interesting to compare the punishment meted out to one of the most respected cricketers of his time, Indian all-rounder, Vinoo Mankad with the Edgbaston fiasco. Mankad was regarded as one of India’s greatest-ever all-rounders. In 2021, he was inducted to the ICC Hall of Fame, one of the ten iconic cricketers so inducted, including household names like Sir Learie Constantine, Ted Dexter, Stan McCabe and our own Kumar Sangakkara.
In spite of his illustrious career, Vinoo Mankad is best and unfairly known for one incident on a test match during an Indian tour of Australia in 1947/8. He ran out Bill Brown, the batsman at the non-striker’s end, who was backing up too far and out of the crease at the point of delivery. This was an obvious violation of the rules by the batsman, who was clearly trying to steal an unfair advantage.
This act of supposed poor sportsmanship infuriated the Australians, who introduced a contemptuous term, “Mankading” for anyone who used this perfectly legal method of running out the batsman at the non-striker’s end who was out of his crease at the point of delivery. Australians, and other cricketing nations, contend that a warning should be given before such a run out was contemplated. No such warning is required according to the rules; it had been traditionally regarded as a courtesy to warn the batsman that he was breaking the rules and would be run out if he persists in trying to steal an advantage of a few yards.
In fact, two warnings had already been given by Mankad, but Brown persisted in backing up and was well out of the crease at the point of Mankads’s delivery when he ran him out. Even the great Don Bradman slammed the critics of Mankad, saying, “For the life of me, I can’t understand why (the press) questioned his (Mankad’s) sportsmanship. The laws of cricket make it quite clear that the non-striker must keep within his ground until the ball has been delivered…. By backing up too far or too early, the non-striker is very obviously gaining an unfair advantage”.
Both Carey and Mankad acted well within the rules. Unlike Carey, Mankad warned the batsman Brown twice before running him out, a courtesy not offered to Bairstow by Carey. Most importantly, there is one salient point which should have been taken into consideration by the third umpire. Bairstow was not trying to steal an advantage by his actions. Brown was.
Carey’s name will fade into obscurity for the mediocre cricketer he is; Steve Smith and David Warner, who tacitly endorsed Carey’s action, really have no reputation for sportsmanship to lose. But Mankad’s great career will always have an asterisk against his name because of a perfectly legal action, originally stigmatized by the Australian press. A stigma which followed him throughout his illustrious career.
The point I am laboring to make is that the old rules and lessons Mr. Skandakumar and I (I am taking the liberty of using his distinguished name with mine in the same sentence, because we both attended Royal Prep) learnt at our alma mater are lost. The truisms we learnt at the School of our Fathers (inaccurate in my father’s case; sadly, he went to Ananda), do not seem to hold true today. Axioms like “The umpire’s word is law”; “the benefit of the doubt always goes to the batsman”; “it’s not that you won or lost but how you played the game”. Or most simply, “It’s not cricket, old man”. All gone.
I am an enthusiastic follower of the game of cricket, but the one match etched in my memory is one in the 1950s, which to my pre-teen mind, represented the very epitome of sportsmanship.
Royal was playing St. Joseph’s at Reid Avenue. Nearing the end of the game, when Royal had to make a few runs to win, the umpires called a halt to the game because of rain/bad light. The Josephian captain elected to continue playing in heavy rain to enable Royal to score the few runs necessary to win. In his mind, Royal should not have been deprived of a well-deserved victory because of the vagaries of the weather. In appreciation of his sportsmanship, he was cheered and carried on Royal shoulders after the match. Today, of course, he would have been lynched by the Josephians.
O tempora O mores.
Features
Combining local resources,traditional knowledge and science to build a food-secure Sri Lanka
World Food Day 2026: Innovating today for a better food future
by Dr. Kaushalya Wijayasekara
What will be on the Sri Lankan dinner table ten years from now? Will our children be able to get nutritious food at a price their families can afford? Will farmers be able to grow enough despite changing weather and rising costs? And how much of the food we produce will actually reach the consumer, instead of being lost or wasted along the way?
These questions can’t wait. A farmer faces unpredictable weather. A family faces rising food costs. Fruit goes unsold after a good harvest. Some children do not get enough nutrition. The future of food is tied to the future of Sri Lanka itself.
World Food Day 2026 is a chance to look beyond the immediate problems and ask whether we can build a food system that feeds our people well, gives farmers better opportunities, protects the environment and makes better use of what we already have. The answer can be yes, but we will have to think differently.
We are not starting from zero. Sri Lanka has diverse crops, fisheries, traditional food knowledge, indigenous varieties, research institutions, universities and a young generation able to create new solutions. What we need is to bring these together and act. Producing more will not secure our food future on its own. It will depend on how intelligently we produce, process, preserve, distribute and consume food.
Making more of what we already have
Innovation does not always mean inventing something new. Often it means finding better uses for the resources we have.
Sri Lanka grows traditional rice varieties, kurakkan, green gram, cowpea, jackfruit, breadfruit, cassava, sweet potato, coconut and palmyrah. All of them have great potential for modern, nutritious, value-added foods. Jackfruit and breadfruit can be made into flour and other convenient products. Traditional rice varieties can go into new foods that suit changing consumer needs. Palmyrah, with its strong cultural heritage, can create new income through better processing, packaging, quality assurance and market development.
The aim is to connect our traditional food knowledge with modern consumer needs and technology, while keeping our food heritage.
Stop wasting the food we produce
Reducing food loss and waste should be a major priority. Seasonal fruits such as mango, banana, papaya and pineapple can be lost in large quantities when production exceeds demand or when storage, transport and processing facilities are inadequate. With suitable technology, these fruits can become dried products, pulps, powders, beverages and other shelf-stable foods.
Agricultural and fisheries by-products are resources too. They could be turned into food ingredients, animal feed, bio-based products and other useful materials, which would move us toward a more circular food economy.
Technology alone is not enough. We need stronger local processing facilities, cold storage, efficient transport, collection centres and market information systems, especially close to where food is produced. Cutting food loss raises the value of what our farmers and fishers already produce.
Nutrition and food safety come first
Food security means more than having enough food. People also need food that is safe and nutritious.
Sri Lanka can develop affordable, nutritious foods from local pulses, grains, vegetables, fruits and fish. Children and other vulnerable groups should get particular attention. Schoolchildren in particular deserve a focus: safe, nutritious, locally sourced products for school feeding programs would support child nutrition, local farmers and domestic food industries at the same time.
Food safety must stay at the centre of food innovation. Good hygiene, quality control, laboratory testing, traceability and appropriate food safety systems are what make new products safe as well as attractive and nutritious.
A food system that can cope with climate change
Climate change is already affecting agricultural production, water availability, crop yields and food prices. We need food systems that can handle changing conditions. That means climate-resilient crops, efficient water use, soil and water conservation, better storage and resource-efficient food processing.
Traditional knowledge matters here. Generations of Sri Lankan farmers have developed practices suited to local climates and ecosystems. Combining that experience with modern science can give us solutions that fit local conditions and are sustainable. Technology alone will not build the future of food. Science, experience and local knowledge together can.
Give young people a bigger role
Sri Lanka’s universities have an important part to play in shaping our food future. Young people should be encouraged to identify real problems in the food system and work on practical solutions in areas such as food waste, sustainable packaging, nutrition, food safety, modernising traditional foods and digital technologies.
A good research project should not always end as a research paper. Where appropriate, research should be supported to move on to products, technologies, enterprises and community solutions. That needs stronger partnerships between universities and industry, along with mentoring, research funding, business support and market connections. If young researchers and entrepreneurs can turn their ideas into viable food innovations, both consumers and producers will benefit.
A pathway designed for Sri Lanka
We do not need to copy food-system models from other countries. We can build a pathway that suits our own resources, culture and needs. It would bring together local resources, traditional knowledge, scientific research, appropriate technology and entrepreneurship, with farmers, fishers, universities, research institutions, food industries, entrepreneurs and policymakers working side by side.
The goal goes beyond selling raw materials. We need to create more value, reduce waste, improve nutrition, generate jobs and strengthen rural livelihoods. This matters especially for small and medium-scale food enterprises, which can drive local economic development when they get the right technical, financial and market support.
The choices we make today
The food future will not create itself. It will be shaped by what we grow, what we research, what we process, what we consume and what we choose not to waste.
So, the question for World Food Day 2026 is this: what can we do today so that every Sri Lankan has safe, nutritious, affordable and sustainable food tomorrow?
The answers are already around us, in our farms, fisheries, food businesses, universities, laboratories and communities. We have the resources, the traditional knowledge, the scientific expertise and talented young people. What we need now is to connect them and act.
A better food future begins with the choices we make today.
Dr. Kaushalya Wijayasekara
Senior Lecturer, Department of Biosystems Technology, Faculty of Technology, University of Ruhuna
Features
20th Anniversary of Digampathana blast – the day Sri Lanka Navy cried
By Admiral Ravindra C Wijegunaratne
WV, RWP and Bar, RSP, VSV, USP, NI (M) (Pakistan), ndc, psn, Bsc
(Hons) (War Studies) (Karachi) MPhil (Madras)
Former Navy Commander and Former Chief of Defence Staff
Former Chairman, Trincomalee Petroleum Terminals Ltd
Former Managing Director Ceylon Petroleum Corporation
Former High Commissioner to Pakistan
The Digampathana suicide truck attack on 16th October 2006 remains the deadliest single strike in Sri Lanka Navy history, leaving scars that time cannot erase.
It was a seemingly ordinary Monday morning on 16 October 2006, but the calm of that day would soon be shattered in a way none of us could have imagined. As the Commandant of the Naval and Maritime Academy and Flag Officer Commanding Naval Fleet at Trincomalee, I was aware that a number of my cadets were travelling that morning, part of a convoy of fifteen buses carrying naval personnel from Trincomalee, Colombo, and other bases, heading toward Dambulla to rendezvous with another group. The convoy also included trucks and escort vehicles, a routine movement planned and coordinated with the army to ensure the roads were clear. The morning started quietly. Some personnel greeted friends, handed over their weapons, or strolled to a nearby tea shop. It all seemed so ordinary—too ordinary for what would come next.

Sri Lanka Navy sunk LTTE Ships carrying arms, ammunition and warlike materials thousand miles away from Sri Lanka in Indian Ocean in September and October 2007.
By late morning, both convoys had reached the small ground at Digampathana, near the Sigiriya junction, and personnel mingled briefly, unaware that a carefully orchestrated act of terror was waiting. Then, suddenly, an empty half-truck veered directly into the convoy. It exploded with a ferocity I can still recall as if it were yesterday. Nuts, bolts, and high explosives tore through the air. Pandemonium erupted instantly. I later learned that 107 of our naval personnel were killed on the spot and another 153 critically injured. The scene was indescribable—bodies scattered, vehicles mangled, personal effects strewn across the ground. I remember later hearing that the head of the suicide bomber was recovered more than 100 meters away from the blast, a grim testament to the sheer force of the explosion.
I was in my office at the Naval and Maritime Academy when my mobile phone rang. A young midshipman from the 21st intake called, his voice trembling: “Sir, there was a huge explosion at the convoy point! Many are dead … my batch mate Wijesundara is among them.” I immediately jumped into my jeep with my escort Chief Petty Officer and driver and rushed to Digampathana, relying on every ounce of my driving skill to reach the scene. The journey, which usually took little more than an hour, felt endless that day, each passing mile weighed down by dread.
When I arrived, I was confronted with a sight that no training can prepare you for. The injured were being rushed to Dambulla Hospital, where doctors and nurses worked tirelessly, improvising in ways that saved lives despite the overwhelming chaos. I went back to the site after visiting the hospital. The remains of our naval personnel were scattered across the ground, and someone had begun collecting weapons and protective gear. I immediately contacted Surgeon Rear Admiral Nico Jayasekara and received his instructions: collect all body parts in separate bags and transport them to the Trincomalee Naval Hospital mortuary. This gruesome work had to be done with care and dignity, and it filled the icebox in my vehicle. Through DNA testing initiated by Rear Admiral Nico, we were able to identify every naval personnel lost that day, bringing some closure to grieving families.
The Navy Commander at the time, Vice Admiral Wasantha Karannagoda, was devastated. I had worked closely with him and knew how deeply he cared for his men. He ensured that the fallen were honoured with full ceremonial naval funerals at Welisara Naval Base, attended by families and comrades. Sixty-seven funerals were conducted in a single day—a number that still haunts me.
The Digampathana attack remains the largest single loss of naval life in our history. It was a day of sorrow, but also a day that reinforced our resolve. The tragedy galvanized the Navy to target the LTTE Sea Tiger wing with renewed determination and reshaped our maritime operations forever. Every time I think of that day, I remember not just the lives lost, but the courage, professionalism, and dedication of those who survived, those who treated the injured, and those who ensured the fallen were honored properly. May the souls of our naval hero’s rest in peace, their sacrifice guiding us and inspiring generations of naval personnel to come.
Features
‘Murder at Whitby Abbey’
Tales of Mystery and Suspense – 24
I was intrigued by the title of a book I found in a book drop at the condominium of a friend, Murder at Whitby Abbey, and I brought it home with me though I will not be able to return it in the near future. It was described on the cover page as ‘a standout in the crowded medieval mystery field’, though I fear I do not know of other books in this field, apart from the Cadfael series, which I have dealt with earlier.
The book, by Cassandra Clark, is set during the reign of Richard II and has as a backdrop his precarious position, which led to his being replaced, and murdered, by his cousin Henry, who reigned as Henry IV. It is a gloomy book, the action taking place in the twelve days of Christmas leading up to the Epiphany. And the gloom is pervasive, even though this is supposed to be a time of festivity, with mummers performing, and many of those in the guest house where the heroine stays going to town to enjoy themselves, with much drinking and much music, which also fills the guesthouse.
The heroine Hildegarde is a nun, sent to try to acquire a relic being sold by Whitby Abbey, though this was also a penance set by the Abbot of the monastery that governed her abbess because she had had sex with a man. Soon after she and her companions reach the Abbey set high on a cliff, she finds that there are other bidders, and soon suspects that the hierarchy, not perhaps the Abbot who seems a weakling, but his rapacious bursar, is determined to make money, and not above creating false relics to sell to several aspirants.
After Hildegarde and her Cistercian companions – Whitby is a Benedictine Foundation – two monks, Gregory and Egbert, and a young priest Mark, reach the abbey, they find that Aelwyn, a monk they had met on their way to the guesthouse had died. This was in the apple store, and they realize, when they find the surplices of novices stuffed into the air vents, that he had been left to suffocate in the overwhelming scent of apples.
The Cistercians are asked to look into the death, perhaps because they are likely to get no cooperation from the Abbey folk, but perhaps because those in charge are keen to know what happened. And the infirmarer, an old monk, suggests Hildegarde talk to a man called Edred who worked for the bursar, and had been a friend of Aelwyn’s. But Edred too is killed, before he can keep an appointment he had made with Hildegarde, drowned in a pool near the farmhouse of the Abbey.
Meanwhile tensions arise between the fisherfolk and the abbey for the bursar wants to charge them for using the beach that technically belongs to the abbey to dry their fish and their nets. This leads to physical battles, when the guards used by the abbey, under the command it seems of the bursar whose determination to make money is not resisted by the abbot and the prior, try to storm the area where the fishermen live.
Hildegard finds out more about what had happened through two youngsters, one of whom Torold is the son of Aelwyn by a woman who worked as a prostitute for a cartel, and with whom Mark fell in love. The other works on the farm and had seen Edred meet someone near the pool, after which that someone left the place by himself. And the boy had also found in the pool a sort of dagger with the seal of the abbey.
He and his dog, and Torold who follows her, rescue Hildegarde from a man at arms who has waylaid her and tries to rape her earlier. Escaping into the abbey she was nearly been raped then by the bursar, but she managed to escape, in the process setting fire to him and the muniments room, which led, when he was rescued, to the discovery of a box with the money he said had been stolen, blame being cast on both Aelwyn and Edred.
Matters come to a head when the fisherfolk try to storm the abbey, being resisted by the men at arms stationed on the towers. But then Hildegarde realizes that behind the murders was the bursar’s clerk, whom she pursued to the cathedral. There is great drama then as she escapes from him when he tries to kill her, and then from the man at arms who had tried to both rape and kill her, but they both fall from the scaffolding she had climbed, the latter coming from a tower where he had been stationed.
Both of them think they run the rapacity of the abbey, the latter claiming to work for the nobles opposed to Richard, who is presented throughout the book as devoted to his subjects, not to power or money. But though the villains die, the bursar continues, having got over the hysteria the fire had caused and his acknowledgment then of guilt – and though the abbot and the prior seem less vicious, whether they will be able to assert themselves is questionable.
Before the climax, when the others in the guesthouse were leaving, Hildegarde found that two of them were in possession of the relic, for which they seem to have paid well. Hildegarde herself had made a derisory offer, but before she leaves the abbot gives her the relic, perhaps in gratitude for what she and her fellow Cistercians had discovered, the abbey having made as much money as it needed and more from the gullible other buyers.
Mark’s inamorata is saved from the stews because she moves in with Edred’s widow whom the bursar had thrown out of the rooms he occupied when her husband was found dead. Hildegarde had paid for lodgings, in a house run by the man who ran the brothels, but he had a kindly side and was going to finance them to make nets for the fishermen.
So, the Cistercians set off for their home as swiftly as they can to get there on the day of the Epiphany, having stopped en route to pray for King Richard whose birthday it was.
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