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Betel chewing a cardinal pleasure

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Bulath in Sinhala, Vettila in Tamil and Malayalan, Paan in Hindi, Plu in Thai, Sirih in Malay are local names for betel (Piper betle) the tender leaf of which is the main ingredient in a chew. The other common additions are arecanut (Areca catechu), either raw or dried, sliced, shredded or cut into pieces and chunam from burnt chalk, coral or sea shells (slaked lime) and a piece of sun dried tobacco leaf for an added ‘kick’. The tobacco is said to have been introduced to the chew, also called a quid, by the Dutch when they were in these parts of the world as traders or rulers.

According to the region and availability fennel, turmeric, cumin, melon and cucumber seed, tamarind juice, coriander, nutmeg, ginger, cardamom, cinnamon, cloves and grated copra are added as desired. Lately, particularly in India, menthol, rose water and mint essences are added. In Sri Lanka `Saravita’ with many of these spices are sold off lighted trays by men signing songs with catchy tunes during peraheras and other similar events. High class Indian hotels offer such spiced and fragrant ‘vitas’ in place of After Eight Mints.

Some authorities believe that about one tenth of the human race is in the habit of chewing betel- some from morning to night, others at frequent intervals or after their main meals and still others on occasions only. The estimate is plausible as the habit is common throughout India, Pakistan, Bangladesh, Sri Lanka, Malaysia, Myanmar, Indonesia, Singapore, the Philippines, Papua New Guinea, Micronesia, Fiji, Maldives, Caroline Santa Cruz Island etc. Asian migrants have introduced the use of betel to the Middle East, some African and European countries and the USA as well.

For how long has the use of betel been known as a masticator – things people chew? A very long time indeed; well before smokes or fumitories known in the Eastern World for about ten centuries before the 1600s when Columbus introduced it to the West.

The Buddha in one of his reincarnations as a hare, according to a Jataka story, offered himself to God Sakra. The God was so moved that he painted the likeness of a hare on the moon and threw away the brush which fell on the world of Nagas or snakes. The King of the Nagas swallowed the brush (for what reason we do not know) and due to the consequent unbearable pain in his throat he died a few days later. A plant sprouted where he died and it was called giri-da-daly (throat burning leaf) now known as the betel vine.

Another origin of betel, according to others, is that it was created from the tip of a little finger of a Naga Queen. Irrespective of the origin it is said that the leaf was brought to the world of humans from the Naga’s world, thus called Nagavalli, by a snake holding the stem and leaf tip by its teeth. Others believe the snake held the leaf tip only. Whichever it was the older generation of betel chewers particularly in India and Sri Lanka, through fear of snake poison, discarded the leaf tip or both stem and tip when preparing a chew. Some removed even the prominent leaf veins close to the stem.

Just as much as betel is mentioned in the Jathaka story mention of it has been made in the Mahabaratha, Ramayana and Mahavansa as well.

Anthropologists have found traces of betel in the Spirit caves in Northwest Thailand dating back to 5500-7000 BC, which is even before systematic and organized agriculture came to be practiced. There have been similar findings in Timor in Indonesia going back to 3000 BC and in the blackened teeth of human skeleton in Palawan in the Philippines going back to 2600 BC. Even today some hardened betel chewers in Thailand, Myanmar and Indonesia with black teeth as a result of long years of chewing are proud of the discoloration as they say only animals have white teeth!

Betel chewing was prevalent in many parts of China up to about the 19th Century when the use of opium took its place. That was with the ‘kind assistance’ of the British for their ultimate benefit.

Even in the ancient Islamic civilization betel was known in Persia and some Arabic countries. But the habit died a few centuries ago as the leaf and ingredients had to be imported at great cost and it was also considered to be against Islamic teaching. However, followers of the religion in Sri Lanka, India, Pakistan, etc. are known to chew betel. In fact Sri Lanka exports considerable quantities of leaf and arecanut to Pakistan, the Maldives etc.

Betel has been a great social equalizer since ancient times – emperors and their subjects, landlords and their tenants, high officials and their subordinates all indulged in the habit without restrictions. Then and now it is not subject to taboos by any race such as various kinds of flesh and alcohol are. Even priests are allowed its use. To unmarried Brahmins it was taboo while Burmese children were encouraged to chew in the belief that they would speak their language well. However, some Sinhala elders of a few decades ago discouraged children from chewing in the belief that it would hinder their ability to pronounce English words correctly!

In India in early times betel chewing was considered one of the eight cardinal pleasures of a man or woman. Its value to enhance the quality of life was considered equal to food, sex, music, sleep, incense, flowers and perfume.

The Father of Indian Medicine, Sushruta in the first century AD said betel chewing tends to “cleanse the mouth, imparts a sweet aroma to it, enhance its beauty, cleanse and strengthen the voice, tongue, teeth, jaws and sense organs and acts as a general safeguard against disease.” An ancient writer in Sanskrit wrote that betel has twelve desirable qualities which are pungency, bitter, sweet, spicy, salty, astringent, it expels wind, kills worms, removes phlegm, eradicates odours, purifies all organs of the body and even induces passion!

A chew of betel is said to kill hunger and relieve tiredness which perhaps is the reason why some manual workers are often found chewing throughout the workday. This is certainly true of plantation workers. Robert Knox wrote that Sinhala men and women indulge in betel chewing to while away the hours of darkness before they went to sleep. He also had noted that an illicit lover indicates to the other their secret rendezvous by placing a betel leaf there. In the Caroline Islands experts were able to establish from fresh betel spit the sex of the spitter, what and when the last meal was, whether the person was walking leisurely or running and even more.

What is the modern thinking on betel chewing? Extracts from the lengthy essay ‘Betel Nut’ by the poet, scholar, script writer and critic Stephen Fowler are quoted below to give the views of a present day American.

Quote “Maybe you’re an ageing speed freak, too paranoid and out-of-touch to score the hard stuff anymore. Maybe you’re a khaki preppy looking for an alternative to espresso. Maybe you’re the hippie type optimistically attracted to a multi-cultural lift. Or maybe you just like to salivate. However, you kick it, betel is the ticket.

I was introduced to betel chewing six years ago in a bookshop in San Francisco’s Mission district. My instructor was a cynical young bohemian type prematurely returned from a visit to India.

The active principle in areas is the alkaloid arecoline. In pharmacological terms, arecoline stimulates the parasympathetic nervous system, resulting in a contraction of the pupils and an increased secretion of tears and saliva. The later is especially encouraged by areas, as is evident from this description of an early 20th century experiment in which a horse was injected with pure arecoline, “the saliva gushes forth from the animal’s mouth in a solid stream”. (Erich Hesse, Narcotics and Drug Addiction)

The acreca’s sister in crime, betel leaf, comes from a tree climbing vine (piper betle) of the pepper family. The shiny green leaf is heart shaped, and about the size of the palm of your hand. Its essential oil contains a phenol (betel phenol) similar to the aromatic eugenol found in the oil of cloves. Betel-phenol probably contributes stimulant properties of its own, but scant information is available on its pharmacology.

Like the coca-chewers of the Andes, betel users somehow discovered that the addition of lime helps to extract the vital essence of the plants into the saliva (and from there, of course, through the mucous membranes of the mouth and straight into the bloodstream). The catalytic lime is either powder (calcium oxide) or paste (calcium hydroxide). In either case, it is typically made from kiln-baked seashells.

What is it like to chew betel? Enthusiasts recognize three delightful aspects of the experience; the exhilarating lift; the mysterious flavour; and the cleansing; compelling salivation.

In the rare instances where scholarly literature mentions its subjective effects, the news about betel is uniformly good; “it imparts the repeatedly described sensation of well being, good humour, excitation and comfort. The consciousness, of course, remains unimpaired, and the chewer’s capacity for work is in no respect affected. (Hesse) It creates a feeling of energy, appeases hunger and assuages pain. (Henry Brownrigg)

Betel is not an amphetamine, after all. It is a complex of dilute plant alkaloids absorbed slowly through the mucous membranes of the mouth. The result is subtle and “natural” and offers none of that teeth-clenching, palm sweating, eye bugging over stimulation so familiar to users of stronger drugs. Betel is less jarring than espresso and it never leaves you feeling jangled.

Betel, or specifically areca, is an acquired taste; but for those who have acquired it, the flavour is darkly fascinating. It is spicy, though not hot spicy like cinnamon or ginger. It is tannic, but without sourness. It is sweet, though in no way is it sugary. It is a little reminiscent of chocolate, and a little reminiscent of dirt. Above all, the flavour of betel is exotic; and maybe it’s best left at that.

The most unusual (and visible) aspect of betel chewing is its effect on the salivary glands. You don’t just salivate, you pour; and the saliva emerges from your mouth tinted a deep brick red. It is not at all uncommon to spit four fluid ounces of ‘betel juice’ in a single session. And spit it you must; swallowing is not recommended, since it may cause an undesirable sensation of heartburn.

Perverse as it may sound, betel drooling is quite pleasurable indeed. There is an almost orgasmic satisfaction to be found in the experience of saliva-ducts open to full throttle. Delicious above all is the aftermath; when the chew is finished, your mouth is left astonishingly fresh and sweet. You feel uniquely cleansed, drained and purified.

Despite its charm for the initiated, however, this saliva rush is probably the greatest obstacle to betel’s acceptance in the West. Salivation is just too “primitive” for the sanitized First World. Travellers to India are frequently shocked by the red splotches that cover the streets and side walks; clearly this secretory excess strikes many Westerners as not just unaesthetic, but downright filthy. But how do those sidewalks really differ from our own, studded as they are with flattened grey globs of chewing gum? At least betel spit doesn’t stick to the sole of your shoe.

Then there’s the more serious accusation brought to bear by the US Food & Drug Administration; the betel contains “a poisonous or deleterious substance (arecoline) and that habitual chewing may be linked to oral carcinoma. Despite its authoritative tone, the FDA does not provide any medical data to support its allegation, and an examination of the available literature indicates that no conclusive studies have been carried out.

Some medical authorities even contradict the FDA. Dr. B.G. Burton-Bradley wrote in the Lancet that “Betel chewing is practiced daily by no less than 200 million people, the vast majority of whom do not have oral carcinoma” German pharmacologist Hesse stated that “Chronic excesses (of betel) do not cause any permanent health disorders.” Unquote Many Sri Lankan and Indian doctors will, of course, vehemently disagree with Burton- Bradley and Hesse.

Betel chewers specially the hardened ones have five essential utensils. They are the betel tray (in Sinhala thattuwa), container for chunam with an attached spatula (killote) aercanut cutter (giraya) spittoon or caspidor (padikkama) and if needed by the elderly without all their teeth a small mortar with attached pestle (bulath vangediya). In the days gone by in Sri Lanka these were all made of brass. The wealthier folk had some of these with inlaid designs in copper and sliver or gold in Myanmar and Indonesia.

In the Phipippines betel and the other ingredients were placed on intricately carved wooden trays and in some other countries in carved metal or wooden boxes. In the past when high officials or men or women of wealth had formal photographs of themselves taken they had these items close at hand on a table. Such was the importance of betle in their lives.

Of the paraphernalia used by betel chewers, Colombia University’s Prof. Samuel Eilenberg paid a special attention to arecanut cutters. He collected 187 cutters (now in the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York) from several South East Asian countries which Henry Brownrigg describes in his book “Betel Cutters”. The book could however have been more appropriately titled “Arecanut Cutters”.

In the Anuradhapura Museum an arecanut cutter dating back to 993 AD is on display.

In Sri Lanka the most popular and commercially cultivated verities of betel are kahamaneru, ratadalla and galdalu. They are planted in well-managed irrigated beds under light shades and trained to climb up wooden stakes of about five feet in height for easy harvesting. A single vine yields about ten leaves every two weeks, six months after planting. However, village home gardens produce appreciable quantities of leaf for domestic consumption from vines, which climb up a variety of trees in the garden.

The leaves of some of these are somewhat coarse when compared to the cultivated varieties.

The economic importance of betel and arecanut to Sri Lanka is significant. In the first half of 1999 our export income from it was over Rs. 64 million and the Gross Domestic Product value of betel and arecanut in 1999 was 1% of the total rubber and tobacco in comparison were 1.6% and 0.2% respectively.

Arecanuts are generally not cultivated on a commercial scale and nuts come mainly from trees of self-sown seeds in practically every village garden in most parts of the country except those in the high elevations or very dry areas. The value of dried arecanut from exports in the first six months of 1999 amounted to over Rs. 330 million.

In 1999 the average price of 1000 betel leaves (medium) was Rs. 475.55 while 100 raw arecanuts sold for Rs. 99.65 (Source Dept. of Census & Statistics).

In Sri Lanka and many of the countries in which betel chewing is common betel it is intricately woven into their cultures. From the young man who seeks a woman’s hand in marriage until after death itself betel plays a significant role. In India in the days gone by parents of young men visit the homes of girls whom they seek in marriage for their sons taking betel. In the course of conversation a tray of betel is offered to the visitors and if the proposal is rejected the host overturns the tray as if by accident! Also if a visitor is unwelcome the offer of betel is unduly delayed and when it does appear it indicates the visitors should take their leave. In Indonesia, in the past, a man could express his wish to divorce by giving his wife three pieces of arecanut. It was as easy as that then.

Sri Lankan Buddhists decorate a Pirith Mandape with betel leaves and offer a tray of betel to the senior priest requesting commencement of chanting. A couple at the end of the marriage ceremony drop betel leaves on the Magul Poruwa to indicate to Mother Earth of their marriage and place betel leaves on the hood of the Poruwa to inform the Dewas of the union. Along with the traditional items of food, betel is placed on the dining table on Sinhala New Year day. After the meal the elder in the family hands over a coin placed on betel to each member of the family as a token of good wishes for the New Year. In their turn the young offer betel to the elders asking forgiveness for any lapses in the past year. They also offer betel to their parents to announce their success at examinations and such other important events. Elder relatives are invited to family weddings with betel.

In the past physicians, astrologers, high officials teachers, landlords etc. were offered a sheaf of betel consisting of forty leaves by those seeking assistance and with the stem end facing the recipient. Similarly, Buddhist Priests are invited to an Alms Giving with a sheaf of betel. A member of a bereaved family asks an elder relative to assist in the funeral arrangements with betel while in the funeral house itself betel leaves are placed under-side up in the thattuwa.

Betel chewing and its virtues have been expressed in the most glowing terms in the East from the very earliest of time and Westerners like Fowler and others do not look at the practice with the abhorrence they once did. In fact they too seem to share the views of ancient medical men such as Sushruta describing the flavour of betel as exotic and imparting a feeling of well being. Hence, an occasional ‘vita’ particularly after a hearty meal can be better than the once fashionable fumitories which are now universally frowned upon.

(This article was first published in 2002)



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Putin in Modi’s India

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Prime Minister Modi with President Putin

That was no ordinary greeting; on the frosty evening of last Thursday, Indian Prime Minister Modi embraced Russian President Vladimir Putin in a bear hug at Delhi airport and, within moments, presented him with a copy of the Bhagavad Gita in Russian. The choice of gift was laden with symbolism—echoes of Robert Oppenheimer, who drew profound philosophical reckoning from the same text, declaring, “Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds,” after witnessing the first atomic explosion. Was Modi signaling the weight of nuclear-age responsibility to Putin, or was this a deliberate affirmation of India’s comfort in maintaining ties with a pariah state under global sanctions?

The streets of Delhi, festooned with Russian and Indian flags and dominated by colossal billboards of Modi and Putin, suggested more than ceremonial protocol—it was pageantry of influence, an audacious statement of India’s strategic independence. In that gesture, New Delhi appeared to assert that moral judgment from the West would no longer dictate its choices, and that the Indo-Russian relationship, forged during the Cold War and hardened by decades of defence dependence, remains a pivot capable of unsettling the established order in South Asia and beyond.

Putin’s first visit to India in four years, coinciding with talks in Washington over a possible Ukraine peace framework, came at a time when New Delhi is walking an increasingly delicate tightrope between Moscow and Washington. The optics of the visit—from ceremonial receptions at Rashtrapati Bhavan to summit talks at Hyderabad House—reflected not merely diplomacy but an overt projection of influence. Modi’s presentation of the Bhagavad Gita in Russian was emblematic: a centuries-old text of dharma and duty, layered with the moral weight of choice, now inserted into the theatre of high-stakes realpolitik.

Putin himself, in an interview with India Today, described India as a “major global player, not a British colony,” praising Modi as a “reliable person” who does not succumb to pressure. These words, spoken against the backdrop of US sanctions, EU manoeuvres to leverage frozen Russian assets for Ukraine, and growing Chinese assertiveness, highlight India’s determination to claim agency in a multipolar world where Washington and Brussels no longer set the rules unilaterally.

Historically, the Indo-Russian relationship has oscillated between strategic necessity and opportunism. Declassified CIA documents from the 1980s reveal the delicate dance India played with the USSR during the Cold War. Indira Gandhi’s approach, as the CIA observed, was staunchly nationalist and fiercely protective of India’s regional supremacy. The United States feared that India’s policies towards its neighbours, coupled with its Soviet alignment, could destabilize South Asia while simultaneously granting Moscow a strategic foothold. Today, the echoes of that era reverberate: New Delhi remains Moscow’s top arms buyer, leases nuclear-powered submarines, and maintains energy ties that have drawn ire from Washington, while ensuring that its engagement with Russia does not fully alienate the United States or Western partners.

What is important to see here is the economic metrics. India-Russia trade in 2025 is estimated at roughly $18 billion, heavily skewed in Moscow’s favour due to energy imports, while India continues to negotiate with the United States to mitigate punitive tariffs, including a 25 percent secondary tariff imposed over India’s purchases of Russian oil. Both nations aim to expand bilateral trade to a target of $100 billion by 2030, a goal that falls just two years after the next general elections, when Prime Minister Modi is widely expected to contest again despite the symbolic 75-year age limit for party leadership—a restriction that has largely been treated as political theatre and quickly forgotten. It is worth noting that India’s trade deficit with the US has ballooned to approximately $42 billion in the last fiscal year, reflecting both structural imbalances and the impact of these punitive measures. Remittances provide a partial counterweight: Indians working in the US send home over $90 billion annually, dwarfing Russian remittances, which are negligible in comparison. This indicates that while India faces challenges in trade metrics, its diaspora injects substantial financial resilience into the economy.

The summit also highlighted defence collaboration in stark terms. India’s $2 billion lease of a Russian nuclear-powered attack submarine, with delivery scheduled for 2028, signals an unprecedented deepening of underwater capabilities. The vessel, unable to enter combat under lease terms, is intended to train crews and refine India’s nuclear submarine operations—a critical step for strategic deterrence in the Indian Ocean amid rising Chinese and US naval competition. Russia, despite sanctions and Western pressure, continues to sustain a military-industrial complex capable of producing tanks, missiles, and drones at accelerating rates. As reports from Ukraine’s Center for Analytical Studies and Countering Hybrid Threats indicate, nearly half of Russian defence enterprises remain unsanctioned, exposing the limitations of Western punitive measures. In this context, India’s engagement with Russian defence capabilities is both a practical necessity and a symbolic assertion that strategic imperatives can outweigh Western orthodoxy.

Sanctions, however, remain a persistent backdrop. The European Union, under Ursula von der Leyen, has attempted to deploy emergency measures to convert frozen Russian assets into loans for Ukraine, challenging EU treaties and raising the prospect of legal confrontations with countries such as Hungary and Belgium. The United States, meanwhile, has explored using the same assets in US-led investment frameworks to facilitate reconstruction or political leverage. India, observing these efforts, has maintained a stance of strategic neutrality—resisting calls to condemn Russia while advocating for diplomacy, and emphasizing that selective sanctioning by Western powers is inconsistent and self-serving. Putin, speaking to India Today, noted that Washington and Moscow presented papers in parallel but reached no compromises, and highlighted that over 90 percent of Russia-India transactions are conducted in national currencies—a subtle yet potent challenge to dollar dominance.

The optics extend into nuclear and high-tech collaboration. India is developing nuclear-capable submarine-launched ballistic missiles, advancing its underwater fleet, and exploring high-tech partnerships with Russia, recalibrating the strategic environment in South Asia. Putin’s rhetoric that “Kiev is the mother of all Russian cities” and his framing of Russia’s role in eastern Ukraine resonate with historical narratives of great power assertion, yet they also serve as a conscious projection of strength aimed at partners like India. Modi’s reception was far from ceremonial; it underlined a shared understanding that global power is increasingly multipolar and that alliances must be flexible, resilient, and insulated from Western censure.

Even in the economic sphere, India challenges conventional assumptions. While the trade deficit with Russia persists due to energy imports, India’s broader engagement with global markets—including remittances from its diaspora and ongoing negotiations with the US—allows New Delhi to balance sovereignty with strategic interest. Putin’s discussions emphasizing bilateral trade growth, high-technology collaboration, and future energy projects further solidify this interdependence. The bottom line is clear: the India-Russia partnership, far from being a relic of Cold War calculations, has evolved into a sophisticated framework for navigating sanctions, economic competition, and regional security challenges, and it may yet redefine the balance of power in South Asia.

by Nilantha Ilangamuwa
in New Delhi

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Lalith Athulathmudali: an exceptional minister who managed time and got the best out of his team

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Lalith Athulathmudali

His hallmark was efficiency, wit and much more

I would now like to devote some space to Minister Athulathmudali and how he ran his Ministry. His was a disciplined approach to work. Everyone knew that he was very happy in his previous portfolio of Trade and Shipping, where in addition to numerous achievements he had steered through Parliament path breaking legislation to modernize these sectors. The Port Authorities Act; the new Companies Act; the Intellectual Property Act; the Consumer Protection Act; and many others were evidence of significant productivity.

Therefore, many thought that he would be unhappy in his new portfolio. In fact some one asked him this question one day, in our presence. His reply was characteristic of his professional approach to work. He said that the Ministry he was given did not matter. Whatever Ministry, hie was given, it was his duty to comprehend the issues and productively address them. “Even if I was given the Buddha Sasana Ministry, I will still find plenty to do to improve matters,” he concluded. This spirit and this approach illuminated the work of the Ministry. I have yet to see anyone, apart from a Minister, who budgeted time so rigorously.

He desired to pack value to every passing minute. He was the only Minister, I knew in nearly 37 years of public service, who always fixed a starting as well as a finishing time for all his meetings. Perhaps the only meeting where he could not have a firm grip on time was the Cabinet meeting. There were no welcoming speeches or votes of thanks in his regime. He came to a meeting and got straight to the point. He despised visibly the sycophantic panegyrics which had become a part of the culture of welcoming speeches and votes of thanks.

He used to say publicly that we had become a society of humbugs and lick-spittles. He wanted none of it. With him performance was all. You either kept to his pace of work and requirement for relevancy in all matters, or you were quickly marginalized. To some of us, who had cultivated a life long habit of hard work, and of being up to date, it was both pleasurable and at times even exhilarating to work with him. The lazy or the unprepared had to encounter him with considerable dread as a companion. Not that he was ever harsh. He did not raise his voice, or even scold. He had the capacity to marginalize and dismiss you with wit and verve.

Mr. Athulathmudali just did not have time for pedlars in excuses or shirkers. Again, this did not mean that he expected us to be superhuman. He was a quick judge of the genuine and the credible. He was well aware that those who work hard and take scores of decisions a day would sometimes make mistakes. That was to be expected, provided however that they were not due to gross negligence or egregious blunder. Reasonable errors of judgment were a different matter provided of course they were not too frequent. With him all the officers knew what to expect.

I often wondered whether in Mr. Athulathmudali’s case, his intense preoccupation with time had something to do with the near death experience he suffered when he was seriously injured in a grenade explosion in Parliament. Those who rushed him to hospital on that day said that they could feel no pulse. He himself later said that he went beyond and then returned. My opportunity to work closely with him as Secretary was after he had undergone this experience. Everyone knew of course that he was a quick decision maker and an efficient Minister even before this incident. But I have no means of telling whether this obsession with time to this degree was a post incident reaction or not.

Linked together with this preoccupation with time was the intensity of his desire to be completely up to date both on matters relating to the subject areas of his Ministry as well as all aspects of current affairs. He regularly read the major current affairs magazines and journals. He read rapidly and was therefore able to pack in more into his reading time. He almost always read in the car, a habit which I shared with him. On one occasion, on a trip outside Colombo, he invited me to join him in his car for the journey back. After about half an hour’s conversation, both of us settled down to read, for I too always carried a stock of reading matter in the car. Some cannot read in a moving vehicle. They get nausea if they try. I have been fortunate that this does not happen to me, because I have finished whole books, whilst commuting to and fro.

The alternative would have been vacantly gazing on familiar sights. To round up this aspect of Mr. Athulathmudali’s character, one thing more needs to be said. He was the only person I knew who nearly always carried a World band radio in his brief case. He used to briefly interrupt meetings some times in order to catch the latest news bulletin from the BBC, Voice of America or some other station. Such was the importance he placed on being completely up to date. I hope all these do not convey an image of some grim automaton. That would be far from the truth.

His was a complex character. It was in fact fun to work with him. We got through discussing serious subjects with a considerable degree of wit, repartee and light banter. He encouraged criticism and dissent. But you had to have an arguable point and be prepared to sustain the argument with him. He also insisted on politeness in conversation and in argument. I myself as well as some of the senior pfficials of our team regularly argued with him. Both sides enjoyed this.

Mr. Athulathmudali created the conditions that made us feel comfortable arguing with him or dissenting. In this process, we were treated as equals. Mrs. Bandaranaike was another one of those persons who welcomed an argument with her officials, and did not try to stamp down dissent. She too, like Mr. Athulathmudali had high regard for such officials, a regard which she carried with her well past her own political vicissitudes.

Main areas of focus

Mr. Athulathmudali focused on two main areas. The first area related to the numerous operations of the Ministry. These Included a close and detailed pursuit of the progress of the two main paddy crops in the seasons of Maha and Yala; the review of the position from time to time of the situation in regard to the production of subsidiary food crops such as chillies, onions and potatoes, the review of issues relating to what were called minor export crops such as coffee, cocoa, cardamoms, cloves and cinnamon; the addressing of major issues relating to timely water distribution, pest control, etc; urgent issues of agricultural marketing and the roles of the Paddy Marketing Board, the Co-operatives and the private sector; problems in regard to food buffer stocking; issues relating to milk production, and so on.

These areas were covered in detail by the overall official team of Additional Secretaries, Directors, Heads of Department and myself. We had a system of regular meetings at various levels, culminating in a few large meetings chaired by me, at which issues that could not be addressed at lower levels were brought up for discussion and resolution. Meetings chaired by the Minister served two purposes. They kept film fully briefed and up to date. Also residual problems that could not be resolved at official level were taken up in these fora. Often, problems discussed with him by us had a political or important policy element. On all other matters we decided freely and without interference. The prevailing environment led to easy information flows and speedy decision making. The Minister would have countenanced nothing less.

His second area of concentration was on research, development and quality improvement. Here, unlike on operational matters we did not have several layers of meetings. These meetings were single overall meetings chaired by the Minister himself with all the relevant actors present. Whatever the subject area discussed at these meetings, the Minister wished to have his four State Ministers present. This was done for two reasons. In the first instance, he wanted his State Ministers exposed to all areas and aspects of the Ministry. They already had some exposure at Mini-Cabinet meetings. But these meetings were generally on operational and co-ordination issues and not on quality and research.

Secondly, the Minister followed a policy of recommending to the President that each one of his State Ministers act in turn for him, when he was out of the country, beginning with the most senior of them, and following subsequently the order of seniority. This was another reason why he wanted them to know everything that was going on in the Ministry. The Minister followed the same principle in regard to the State Secretaries, when I had to be out of the country.

What were some of the areas that the Minister took up for regular discussions at these special meetings? They consisted of issues such as the stagnation in rice yields over a considerable period of time; new varieties of rice being developed; issues such as Nitrogen fixation in plants and the reduction in the use of chemical fertilizers; the possibility of introducing better varieties of maize; issues relating to the fragmentation of cultivable land, especially paddy lands and its impact on production, productivity and long term sustainability; issues relating to the growing and the use of soya, and the question of Sri Lankan food habits in relation to its consumption; issues of post harvest losses and possible remedies; issues relating to growing for a market and the relationship that should be developed between the producer and the buyer; matters relating to quality control at all levels, and a number of other matters.

These meetings were extremely interesting. They were attended by senior scientists, researchers, agricultural economists and marketing experts. The Minister was greatly exercised with the central issues of high quality research, bringing the findings of such research to the field, and obtaining a detailed feedback from between research and growers back into the research process. This was a virtuous circle, he wished to encourage and to improve. But in this, all of us were to suffer bitter disappointment.

The link between research and the field and back to research were the army of agricultural instructors. They were an old and a tried and tested institution. They were a highly trained staff with a high degree of professional pride in their work. In fact, Sri Lanka had the reputation of having one of the best agricultural extension systems in the whole of Asia. But along with the President’s Janasaviya program of poverty alleviation arose the necessity for much larger numbers of Grama Sevakas or village level officers. The agricultural instructors were diverted for this purpose.

In spite of all the reasoning we could adduce, the President and his advisors thought that these officers could function in a dual capacity. The passage of time clearly revealed that as foreseen by us, they couldn’t. Thus was broken a tried, tested and an effective system. The Minister was more cynical than angry. He regarded the action as an act of irresponsibility and vandalism. So did everyone connected with agriculture.

(Excerpted from In Pursuit of Governance, autobiography of MDD Peiris) ✍️

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How climate change fuels extreme weather:

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A landslide in Sri Lank (Photo: Sri Lanka Red Cross)

What Sri Lanka’s recent disasters tell us

Sri Lanka has always lived with the moods of the monsoon. For generations, people have grown used to seasonal rhythms of rain, wind and sunshine. Yet what the country has witnessed in recent months feels different. The storms have been stronger, the rainfall more intense, the destruction more widespread and the recovery more painful. The nation has been battered by floods, landslides and hurricane force winds that arrived with little warning and left thousands struggling to rebuild their lives. Scientists say this new pattern is not an accident of nature. It is a direct outcome of the world’s changing climate, which is heating the atmosphere and oceans and turning familiar weather cycles into something far more volatile.

To understand why Sri Lanka is experiencing such severe storms and flooding, it helps to begin with a simple idea. A warmer world holds more energy. When the atmosphere and ocean temperatures rise, they behave like an overheated engine. The monsoon winds strengthen. Rain clouds grow heavier. Sea levels climb. All these changes amplify the forces that produce extreme weather. What used to be occasional, manageable disasters are turning into regular and overwhelming events.

One of the clearest links between climate change and extreme weather is found in rising ocean temperatures. The Indian Ocean is warming faster than most other major bodies of water on the planet. This has serious consequences for Sri Lanka because the surrounding sea regulates the island’s climate. Warm oceans feed moisture into the atmosphere. This moisture then forms clouds that can trigger heavy downpours. When ocean temperatures climb beyond their normal range, the atmosphere becomes supercharged. Rain that once fell steadily over several days can now fall in a matter of hours. This explains why many parts of the country have witnessed sudden cloudbursts that turn roads into rivers and fields into lakes.

Floods in Sri Lanka

Warmer oceans also influence wind patterns. A heated sea surface disturbs air circulation, sometimes producing swirling systems that carry destructive winds and torrential rain. While full scale cyclones are less frequent in Sri Lanka than in parts of India or Bangladesh, the island is increasingly experiencing hybrid storms that bring cyclone like winds without being classified as named cyclones. These storms uproot trees, blow roofs off houses and knock down electricity lines, making post disaster life even harder for affected communities.

Another major factor behind Sri Lanka’s recent extreme weather is the shifting behaviour of the monsoon. For centuries, the island has relied on two monsoons that arrive at predictable times. Farmers, fishermen and traders built their lives around this rhythm. Climate change has disrupted this familiar pattern. The monsoons are becoming erratic. They may arrive later than usual or withdraw too early. In some years they bring too little rain, causing droughts. In other years they arrive with overwhelming intensity, bringing rain far beyond the land’s capacity to absorb. This unpredictability makes it difficult for people to prepare. It also increases the risk of disasters because infrastructure, agriculture and drainage systems were designed for a different climate.

In many regions of Sri Lanka, the land itself has become more vulnerable. Rising temperatures and unpredictable rainfall weaken soil structures. When long dry spells are followed by sudden downpours, the earth cannot hold together. Hillsides become unstable and landslides occur with devastating speed. Villages that once felt safe now face new threats as slopes collapse without warning. These disasters are not simply natural. They are intensified by human activities such as deforestation, poor land management and unplanned construction. Climate change acts as a catalyst, magnifying these risks and turning minor vulnerabilities into life threatening dangers.

The Sea level rise adds yet another layer of concern. The coasts of Sri Lanka are home to millions of people, as well as vital industries such as fishing, tourism and trade. Higher sea levels make coastal flooding far more common, especially when combined with storm surges. During recent storms, waves pushed much farther inland than usual, damaging homes, shops and fishing equipment. Saltwater intrusion also harms soil and freshwater supplies, threatening agriculture in coastal zones. With sea levels continuing to rise, these risks will only grow unless long term protective measures are put in place.

It is also important to recognise the human side of these disasters. Climate change is not only about shifting weather patterns. It is about the people who must confront the consequences. In the aftermath of the recent events, Sri Lankans have shown remarkable courage. Families have worked together to clear debris, rebuild houses, restore livelihoods and comfort those in distress. Yet the burden has not been evenly distributed. Low income households, informal settlements and rural communities often face the greatest hardships. Many of them live in areas more prone to flooding and landslides. They also have fewer resources to recover when disasters strike. Climate change therefore deepens existing inequalities, making vulnerable groups even more exposed.

Children are among the worst affected. Schools often close for days or weeks after floods, interrupting education and adding stress to families already struggling with upheaval. Health risks rise as stagnant water becomes a breeding ground for mosquito borne diseases. Malnutrition can worsen when livelihoods are disrupted and food prices increase. Elderly people face additional risks because they may have difficulty moving quickly during emergencies or accessing medical care after the disaster.

In cities, extreme weather strains essential services. Heavy rains overwhelm drainage systems, causing urban flooding that brings traffic to a halt and damages vehicles and businesses.

Hospitals face sudden influxes of patients. Water treatment plants struggle to maintain supply when rivers overflow or become contaminated. Power outages become common as strong winds damage transmission lines. These disruptions show how deeply interconnected human systems are with the natural environment. When the climate changes, every part of society feels the impact.

Despite the grim realities, there is reason for hope. Sri Lanka has a long history of resilience. Communities have rebuilt after countless storms, droughts and conflicts. Today the country has access to better technology, stronger scientific knowledge and more global support than ever before. What is needed is a clear commitment to prepare for the future rather than react only after disasters strike.

One of the most promising strategies is early warning systems. Accurate forecasts can save lives by giving people the time they need to move to safety. Sri Lanka has already improved its meteorological capabilities, but there is still room to strengthen local communication networks so that warnings reach everyone, including those in remote areas or without internet access. Community education is equally important. When people understand what climate change means for their region, they can make informed choices about housing, farming and water use.

Infrastructure must also evolve. Drainage systems in many towns need upgrading to handle more intense rainfall. Riverbanks require reinforcement to prevent flooding. New buildings, particularly in risk prone zones, must follow safety standards that take climate change into account rather than relying on outdated assumptions about weather patterns. At the same time, restoring natural ecosystems can offer powerful protection. Replanting mangroves, preserving wetlands and maintaining forest cover all help buffer the impact of floods, storms and landslides. Nature is one of the most effective defences against extreme weather when it is allowed to function properly.

On a broader level, Sri Lanka will benefit from global efforts to slow climate change. The island is a small emitter of greenhouse gases compared to many industrialised nations, yet it bears a heavy share of the consequences. International cooperation is essential to reduce harmful emissions, invest in renewable energy and support adaptation in vulnerable countries. Sri Lanka can also strengthen its energy security by expanding solar, wind and other sustainable sources, which reduce dependence on fossil fuels that contribute to climate change.

However, even as governments and scientists work on long term solutions, the experience of ordinary Sri Lankans during the recent storms offers an important lesson. Climate change is not a distant threat. It is happening now. It is felt in flooded living rooms, damaged paddy fields, broken bridges and displaced families. It reshapes the choices parents make for their children and the fears felt by those who live close to rivers or hillsides. It influences food prices, housing stability and health. It is a lived reality, not just an environmental problem.

At its heart, the story of Sri Lanka’s extreme weather is a story about people trying to protect their homes and loved ones. It shows how a global crisis can land with fierce intensity on a small island. But it also reveals the strength of human solidarity. Neighbours rescuing neighbours. Strangers offering food and shelter. Volunteers stepping into danger to help those trapped in rising waters. This spirit of care will be essential in the years ahead as the climate continues to warm and weather events become even more unpredictable.

There is no single solution that will shield Sri Lanka from every future storm. Yet there are many steps the country can take to reduce risk, strengthen communities and build resilience. These efforts will require resources, planning and political will. They will demand cooperation across regions, sectors and generations. Above all, they will require recognising that climate change is not someone else’s problem. It is a shared challenge that demands collective responsibility.

The recent disasters have served as a warning and a call to action. They have shown how quickly weather can turn violent and how deeply it can disrupt daily life. But they have also shown the urgency of preparing for a hotter and more unpredictable world. Sri Lanka has the knowledge and the capability to adapt. Its people have the determination. If these strengths are harnessed with foresight and compassion, the country can chart a safer path through the stormy decades ahead.

Climate change may be reshaping the monsoon, but it does not have to dictate Sri Lanka’s destiny. With the right choices, the island can remain not only a place of natural beauty but also a place of resilience, hope and human connection in the face of a changing planet.

(The writer is an environmentalist.)

by Vincent David ✍️

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