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Unravelling Sri Lanka’s great mysteries

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Asiff Hussein

Asiff Hussein, author of The Zeylonese Treasure Book on Myth, Mystery and Mystique, traces the origins of some well-known but elusive local beliefs and legends

Interviewed by Ifham Nizam


Q: The Zeylonese Treasure Book of Myth, Mystery and Mystique you wrote was a pioneering attempt at solving some yet unsolved mysteries which have eluded many. Could you elucidate some of them for the benefit of our readers?

A: The book deals with a hundred such topics, from the whereabouts of Ravana’s kingdom, the strange sanctity of Adam’s Peak, the legendary Nagas, a missing race of dwarfs, cannibalistic women, lost gold mines, buried treasure, strange phenomena and other oddities such as the mysterious female spectre known as Mohini, to name just a few.

What I have done is adopt a multi-disciplinary approach to the problem at hand, incorporating historical notices, archaeological evidence, a study of etymology or word origins, etc., to come to a tenable solution to these problems. Also, very important is to interpret historical data through a modern lens.

For example, we read in the Mahavamsa that during the reign of King Sirisanghabodhi, a Yakkha (Demon) named Rattakkhi (Red Eye) came here and made the eyes of people red, causing their deaths. This ancient account may well be a reference to a fatal epidemic that swept through Sri Lanka in the 3rd century. One of the telltale symptoms of Rattakkhi, according to the chronicle, was Red Eyes, a condition where the white of the eye becomes reddened. Although we cannot say for certain what it was, given the reference to red eyes followed by the death of the victims, we can only guess that it might have been an outbreak of a deadly mutant strain of cholera.

Another example is the origins of the ancient temple of Tirukonesvaram in Trincomalee, the origins of which are recounted in hoary old Tamil tradition, faithfully recorded by Sir Emerson Tennent in his book Ceylon, published in 1860, where it is stated: “A Hindu prince, having ascertained from the Puranas that the rock of Trincomalie was a holy fragment of the golden mountain of Meru, hurled into its present site during a conflict of the gods, repaired to Ceylon and erected upon it a temple to Siva”.

This is a very interesting account as it may suggest how the temple came to be founded. The reference to a fragment of the sacred mountain Meru flung here in a conflict between the gods may well be a recollection of some ancient meteorite that fell here and later came to be worshipped as a lingam or relic, setting in motion the building of this temple of a thousand columns that was later razed to the ground by the intolerant Portuguese conquistadors. The Hindu temple that presently stands in its place is only a shell of its former self.

Q: You have made a painstaking effort to trace the origins of some of our local legends such as the origin of Mohini. Would you care to elaborate a bit on this, how she came to be?

A: Mohini, as we know, is a sort of female spirit who is said to appear to travellers in the middle hours of the night, dressed in white, half-clad to expose her body and cradling a babe in her arms. She would beseech unsuspecting travellers to hold the child while she tightens her garment. No sooner they do so, she would vanish into thin air with her child. Her victims would take on an unusual pallor, develop a high fever and go berserk before dying an untimely death.

This belief is at least a 100 years old, probably more. Perhaps the earliest reference to it is the so-called Teldeniya Ghost mentioned by a writer simply known as L.A.D in his Some Ceylon Ghost Stories published in the Times of Ceylon, Christmas Number 1925. L.A.D says of this phantom: “It appears that her particular friends are cartmen, who rest themselves and their weary cattle by the roadside, and begin to cook a mid-night meal.

With a crying child in her arms, and tears flowing down her cheeks, she creeps from the shadows, and begs them to escort her to a neighbouring village, explaining that she has lost her way and is benighted. Beauty in distress appeals to them as it does to every gallant heart, and they immediately offer assistance. One fatherly man lifts the crying babe from her arms, and attempts to pacify it, but as he does so the girl vanishes. They search for her in bewilderment, and the baby disappears mysteriously, too.

This is more than even a cartman can stand, and they hastily yoke the bullocks to the carts, and hurry away. The following day the unfortunate man who held the baby dies suddenly, and ghostly mocking laughter is heard in the night. His relatives feel quite peeved over it all, but are helpless, and what is worse, the poor bereaved wives cannot have the satisfaction of pulling the hussy’s hair, or of biting her”.

It seems from the above account that belief in the Mohini was once not as widespread as today and it is possible that even a 100 years ago it was localised to Teldeniya and neighbouring areas. This is supported by the folk tale of Galmal Oya Pokuti recorded by Sandaruvan Lokuhewa in his Dumbara Janakata (2011) which tells of a woman named Kumarihami, who upon seeing her little son floating lifeless in a body of water, committed suicide by jumping into it.

She is said to have been reborn as Pokuti, a sort of she-demon taking her name from her pokutuor curly hair, and haunting the area known as Katubokkuva on the Teldeniya-Hunnasgiriya road in the dead of night, taking form as a beautiful woman with babe in arms and telling travellers “Aney, me daruva tikak atata ganta ko, mage redipota aenda gannakal” (Please take this child in your arms while I correct my attire). If the man as much as holds the child, he would certainly die, this legend tells us.

Q: You have also made a detailed attempt to trace the origins of our lost tribes, such as the Nagas. What is your take on the Nagas, did they really exist in ancient Lanka or are they the stuff of myth?

A: Although I was earlier very sceptical that such a race known as Nagas existed in our country, I have lately revised this view to admit the possibility that they might have well lived here in ancient times.

These Nagas,if at all they existed, were probably Austronesian or Malayo-Polynesian pirates and seafarers. These were the folk, known as Orang Lautor ‘Sea Peoples,’ who had made the sea their principal domain and who in later times possibly settled in the southern parts of our island. A good many old accounts connect them with piracy, seafaring and settlements on the coast or river mouths.

The ancient Sinhalese chronicle, Dipavamsa speaks of the pious Naga named Maniakkhika who lived in Lanka in the time of the Buddha, around the 6th or 5th century BC, when it states: “At the mouth of the Kalyani river, there lived a Naga together with his children and a great retinue of Nagas”. We also read in the Mahavamsa that the Naga King Mahodara had his Naga Kingdom”in the Ocean that covered half a thousand yojanas”. This work also tells us that when the Theri Sanghamitta was conveying the great Bodhi tree from the dominion of Emperor Asoka to Sri Lanka and had fared forth into the sea, the Nagas practiced their magic to win it.

Hoary old local tradition also records that there once lived in a village, to the West of Anuradhapura, a beautiful woman named Hema who got romantically involved with a merchant who resorted to Mantota. When he left for his country, the infatuated maiden, unable to bear the delay in his return, took to the sea one night in desperate hope of finding him. She was captured by a Naga-Raja or Naga King to whom she preached Buddhism and who, being pleased with her, rewarded her with a valuable gemstone.

Such stories, though of a seemingly mythical character, suggest that the Nagas were thought to be a seafaring nation, thus connecting them to the Malayo-Polynesians. Although the Nagas of these stories seem to have been thought of as water-spirits, living beneath the waters, it is possible that the idea evolved from the sea-pirating activities of maritime Oceanic or Malayo-Polynesian peoples which is known to have taken place in ancient times. This idea finds support in Kshmendra’s Bodhisattvavadana Kalpalata of the 10th century which records serious depredations against maritime trade in the Gulf of Bengal by Naga sea pirates from the days of King Asoka.

This suggests a connection of the Nagas with the freebooting sea people in the seas in and around West Malayo-Indonesia who are very ancient and already mentioned in early Chinese accounts of the region.
It is quite possible that it was the Naga race that introduced to our island the Oruva or Outrigger canoe, the coconut and the culture of betel chewing, not to mention a faint mongoloid strain found among some Sinhalese. It is pertinent that Sinhalese folk tradition holds that the betel vine was introduced from the Naga world and this was known among the ancient Austronesians as bulu which could well account for the Sinhala word for betel bulat, from bulu-pat ‘betel leaf’.

Q: In your book, you have propounded some interesting new theories, including the rather outlandish view that the Skanda god of Kataragama had his origins in Alexander the Great. How would you justify such a view?

A: Whether we like it or not, there are many similarities between Alexander and Skanda. Both the names Alexander and Skanda are very similar sounding especially when we consider that the eastern form of Alexander was Iskandar or Sikkandar.

Strangely, the Sinhalese tradition also knew the Kataragama deity as Iskanda, which it attributed to the Brahmins, who, wanting to give him a name and knowing well that he would do heroic deeds and end up possessing a heap of heads, called him Iskanda (Mountain of heads). Iskanda is said to have, as a young man, committed all sorts of heroic acts and a lot of terrible things and was thus exiled by way of a ship that eventually landed in Devundara whence he proceeded eastwards on foot a long way (katara) when he came to a village which was henceforth called Kataragama.

This derivation is no doubt due to folk etymology. This means that when the original meaning of a particular word has been lost over time, later folk tend to give other explanations as to its meaning. So here we find the older name of Iskanda being preserved bringing it closer to the name by which Alexander was known in the East, Iskandar.

Alexander was a prince of Macedon and Skanda, too, we know, was given the princely epithet of Skanda Kumara ‘Prince Skanda’. It might also reflect Alexander’s supposed claim to be the son of Zeus, in this case the epithet kumara being simply a reference to his sonship in relation to Zeus of Ammon whom later Hinduism must have confounded with Siva, thus making him to be a son of Siva.

Alexander was also regarded as the Warrior par excellence and Skanda was known as Mahasena ‘Great Army’ meaning a commander of the Army. That he was once considered the God of War and may have been originally worshipped by soldiers may be the reason why he was called Kanda Surindu Mahasen (The Soldier God Skanda). We also know that the Kataragama deity was much feared, being regarded as the god of war, and in the olden days struck terror to those who even as much as heard his name. Alexander, too, we know, was both loved and feared in his lifetime, often more feared than loved due to his warmongering and reputation as a stern administrator. In contrast, Murugan, with whom he is today often confounded, especially by Hindus, is never feared as such by his devotees.

Another proof of Skanda’s connection to Alexander is seen in the velor lance as the symbol of the deity which can be seen planted in the ground at Kataragama. Pilgrims would bring iron lances which they leave as votive offerings and silver needles with which they pierce their cheeks and tongues. These are actually regarded as little lances and taken to be symbols of the deity himself.

The fact that the lance was regarded as the symbol of the deity suggests his military character was deemed to be very important by his worshippers of an earlier age who came up with these rituals. Likewise, we find Alexander being depicted holding a lance or spear as his weapon of choice in the Issus Mosaic which is believed to be a Roman copy of an original painting by Philoxenus and which was produced during Alexander’s lifetime or shortly afterwards.

The similarities go on. Alexander conquered Persia whose Shahs of later times were seated on the Peacock Throne and to this day the vehicle of Skanda or Kataragama Deviyo as he is called locally is the peacock. Alexander encouraged mixed marriages between the Macedonians of the West and Persians of the East and himself married a Sogdian princess named Roxana, while in local tradition we have Skanda the foreigner marrying the Vedda girl Valli. Such resemblances are too close to be dismissed.

Another possible vestige of Macedonian influence that survived was to be seen a little more than a 100 years ago during the festival of the shrine that took place in the Esala period (July-August). C.A.Murray, a British Government Agent who supervised the Kataragama festival in 1897, had this to say about it: “Six women take part in the procession, walking in front of the elephant. They have their hair done up in a peculiar Grecian style, the secret of which it is said no one can master”.

The supposed date of Skanda’s arrival here is also pertinent, since it places it fairly close to Alexander’s period. The Okanda Devala near the beach in Yala is said to have been erected on the site where Skanda landed in the island on his way to Katararagama about 2,000 years ago.

What we must understand here is that when a deity is said to visit a particular country, it does not necessarily mean that he in his human form prior to deification physically visited the locality but more probably meant that his cult had spread to these parts. Thus, it is possible that Greek or Macedonian worshippers of Alexander, possibly those given to military pursuits, perhaps even mercenaries, had arrived here long ago before establishing his worship in the country. This is supported by the finding of a Greek or Macedonian coin in Tissamaharama in the Southern part of the country. It is therefore quite possible that soldiers or mercenaries from the Balkan or Mediterranean region, or who knows, even Hellenized Egypt, where Alexander was worshipped following his death had settled here in times long past.

There is a lot we can discern from old stories and legends but it depends how far we are willing to think out of the box and interpret them through a modern lens.



Features

Revolt in the Temple: Poverty as Structural Control

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The underlying issue in Anuradhapura is a struggle between a few families who, for years, have waged a quiet cold war over control of the Udamaluwa. Similar situations exist in Mihintale as well. These places, among others, are treated as treasures of Buddhism but, in practice, function as tightly controlled economic centres. The same pattern repeats in Kandy around the Temple of the Sacred Tooth Relic and in Kataragama at the shrine of God Kataragama. Variations of it exist across religious spaces of Islam, Catholicism, and Hinduism too, where institutional authority becomes indistinguishable from localised power networks. What is presented as sacred order often operates as inherited control.

It is indeed devastating to see situations where parents have no alternative but to expose their children to predators in robes for survival. This has nothing to do with religion itself, but with human pathology in the context of survival. These are the questions that demand answers, not superficial responses that treat symptoms while ignoring the conditions that produce them. What is more shocking and disturbing is not the tragedy itself, but the reactions to it. Social media has overwhelmed us, not towards understanding, but towards a fragmented cognitive state with no exit route.

A friend of mine in Nairobi used to keep all his electronic devices at home and go into the forest once a month, spending days there before returning. He called it “detoxification”, but in reality it was an escape from a system that no longer allows uninterrupted thought. Daily life is now saturated with unnecessary content, and attention itself has become a commodity extracted, processed, and sold back to us. This is where we have become unable to understand what really drives certain tragedies we endlessly react to, while remaining blind to the systems that quietly manufacture them.

Multi-dimensional poverty

Poverty is structural, poverty is political, and poverty is functional; it is a tool and a manoeuvring force of power. The question is no longer whether poverty exists, but who benefits from its persistence, and who is forced to survive within it. From education to medicine to basic food supply chains, countries like Sri Lanka are not simply mismanaged; they are structurally captured by a small number of actors who remain stable regardless of who is formally in power. Small-scale enterprises and NGO circuits that circulate foreign funding to “solve structural issues” often operate as hollow administrative performances, producing reports rather than transformation.

Poverty is not merely the absence of money. It is the absence of bandwidth, absence of protection, absence of time, and absence of cognitive stability. As Sendhil Mullainathan and Eldar Shafir state, “Scarcity captures the mind. Just as the starving subjects had food on their mind, when we experience scarcity of any kind, we become absorbed by it.” This is a description of how human cognition is structurally reorganized under constraint. Scarcity does not sit outside the person; it occupies them.

They also state, “Scarcity leads us to borrow and pushes us deeper into scarcity.” That is the mechanism that must be confronted without euphemism. Poverty is not only deprivation; it is a self-reinforcing trap in which survival decisions generate the next layer of crisis. Once a society crosses a certain threshold of scarcity, it stops producing long-term reasoning as a default condition. It produces short-term survival logic, often mistaken by outsiders for irrationality.

It is precisely here that public discourse becomes intellectually dishonest. Everything is translated into moral language because moral language is easier than structural analysis. But morality without structure becomes theatre. It produces outrage, not understanding, and repetition, not reform.

It is indeed brutal when an individual wearing religious insignia—whether robe, symbol, or institutional identity—is accused of acts that fundamentally contradict the moral authority attached to that position. It is equally brutal when institutions that depend entirely on trust begin to function as shields rather than safeguards. But the deeper question is not shock. The deeper question is what kind of social condition produces families who see placement within such institutions not only as devotion, but as a survival strategy under constraint.

Ethical decision-making

That is where the argument collapses into its most uncomfortable form. Poverty does not produce ethical decision-making environments. It produces constrained optimization under pressure. When food insecurity, debt, and social instability converge, institutional spaces that appear stable become transactional destinations for survival rather than moral choices. To interpret this as purely cultural failure is to deliberately ignore the structural compression of options.

Mullainathan and Shafir describe this clearly: “Instead of saying that scarcity ‘focuses,’ we could just as easily say that scarcity causes us to tunnel: to focus single-mindedly on managing the scarcity at hand.” That tunnelling effect is not abstract. It is visible wherever long-term planning collapses under immediate pressure. Systems then misread this as irresponsibility, when it is in fact cognitive overload produced by structure.

What is rarely acknowledged is how deeply this extends into governance itself. Institutions increasingly operate as if they are managing rational, unconstrained individuals. In reality, they are interacting with populations whose cognitive bandwidth is already structurally taxed. The result is policy failure interpreted as public non-compliance, enforcement interpreted as moral correction, and reform interpreted as communication failure rather than design failure.

Social media has intensified this distortion. It does not merely spread information; it destroys sequencing. Structural problems require temporal depth. Social media removes that depth and replaces it with instantaneous judgment. Every event becomes a surface object, detached from causality. The outcome is a society permanently reacting and never diagnosing.

Poverty, in this environment, becomes invisible in its real form. It is not seen as a continuous structural condition but as episodic failure. A scandal appears, is consumed, and disappears. Another replaces it. Nothing accumulates into understanding because attention itself is exhausted before synthesis can occur.

Modern Condition

The modern condition reflects a reversal of earlier social organization, where human relationships are embedded within abstract systems of finance, law, and administration that often fail to recognize the lived constraints of those they govern. In this disembedded state, institutions increasingly misinterpret human behaviour as their capacity for structural understanding weakens. At the same time, attempts to resolve systemic failures through expanding administrative complexity produce diminishing returns: more regulation, oversight, and reporting generate less coherence. Over time, institutions shift from functional effectiveness to symbolic performance, maintaining the appearance of control rather than achieving it.

This is why public outrage repeatedly fails to translate into structural change. Outrage is not a tool of reconstruction. It is a signal of system fatigue. It circulates, intensifies, and dissipates without altering the underlying architecture. Meanwhile, the conditions that produce repetition remain intact.

The most persistent illusion is that these are separate problems: poverty here, institutional misuse there, media distortion elsewhere. They are not separate. They are expressions of a single condition in which scarcity, complexity, symbolic authority, and fragmented enforcement interact without coordination. The system does not fail in one place; it fails in the gaps between these layers.

Symbolic systems

What makes this condition more severe is that symbolic systems continue to operate at full strength even when structural systems degrade. Religious identity remains powerful. Political rhetoric remains strong. Cultural symbolism remains intact. But enforcement capacity, institutional coherence, and social trust degrade beneath them. That gap is where instability grows. Until that gap is addressed at the level of structure rather than sentiment, repetition remains inevitable. New scandals will emerge, new interpretations will circulate, and new cycles of outrage will follow. Nothing resolves because nothing is being reconstructed beneath the surface of reaction.

This is no longer repairable through adjustment or rhetoric. It is a form of decay that persists until it exhausts itself, because the mechanisms meant to correct it are now part of the same failure. It continues until rupture, not reform. At that point, instability ceases to be episodic and becomes structural. Pressure will accumulate into breakdown, and what follows will not be managed transition but forced reversal. The responsibility lies with those who govern these institutions to prevent that trajectory, not through language, but through change. The drama is ending; farce is over; what we are witnessing is tragedy unfolding with unprecedented consequences.

by Nilantha Ilangamuwa

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Are threats to Buddha Sasana external or from within?

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As Sri Lanka celebrates the birth, Enlightenment and the Parinibbana of the Buddha, almost a month after the rest of the Buddhist-world did so, there is widespread discussion about threats to Buddha Sasana provoked by some recent incidents. Regarding the views expressed about postponing Vesak celebrations in my article ‘May Day and postponement Vesak 2026’ (The Island, 25 May), my very good friend Dr Upali Abeysiri has sent me the following comments: “The Mahanayakas have a good reason to postpone Vesak. The dawning of the full moon has to be on the same constellation (nekatha) as when the Buddha was born and attained enlightenment. Although Adhi Poya is reckoned as the second full moon arising in the same calendar month, this is supposed to be an odd exception.” Though it would have been ideal if a consensus could have been reached prior to the split of celebrations, perhaps, it does not matter very much as celebrations occur on a symbolic rather than an actual date, there being no historical or archaeological evidence confirming exact dates.

Whilst there are no direct threats to Buddha Dhamma, as the expanding horizons of science continue to confirm the fundamentals of Buddha Dhamma, there is no doubt whatsoever that there are threats to Buddha Sasana. However, these threats become important as the Buddha Sasana performs the pivotal role in protecting and propagating the Dhamma and, hence, become an indirect threat to Dhamma itself. Therefore, it should be the concern of all Buddhists and it is in this spirit I am making some comments which some may interpret as disrespectful to the Maha Sangha. I can reassure that my intentions are entirely directed towards the preservation of the Buddha Dhamma and Sasana. Though the Buddha proclaimed that the Sasana consists of Bhikkhu, Bhikkhuni, Upasaka and Upasika, for all practical purposes Sasana had been led by Bhikkhus, often at the expense of others.

There is hardly any doubt that there are external forces at play in Sri Lanka and even some Buddhists seem to object to Sri Lanka being called a Buddhist country. Interestingly, no one seems to object to countries like the UK and the USA being called Christian counties. I

There is no registration or baptism in Buddhism and there are no rewards for Buddhists for conversions. As I pointed out in a previous article, ‘How does the Buddha differ’ (The Island, 1 May) unlike most other religions, Buddhism is not a ‘high-demand’ religion, nor ‘law-based’ religion and is not exclusivist. Perhaps, it is this liberalism, pacifism and gentleness, which are the real strengths, that are being exploited as weaknesses by others.

There will always be external threats and the Buddha too faced many during his lifetime. Before addressing those, is it not more important to address the threats within? One of the most important problems seems to be the breakdown of discipline. Bhikkhus are bound by Vinaya rules, laid down by the Buddha and some recent incidents highlight total deviations. Though there were many previous incidents like unsubstantiated claims of Arahanthood, Bhikkhus attacking each other on YouTube and Bhikkhus conducting YouTube channels, not for the propagation of the Dhamma but for the accumulation of rupees, attention was focused after the detection of 22 young monks carrying narcotic drugs.

Though many commentators were quick to condemn the Sangha on this account, we need to go deeper. Narcotic menace has become a huge problem in Sri Lanka and it looks as if the drug lords would resort to anything to achieve their objectives. Though it looks as if some gullible young monks had been duped by drug lords, we need to question why it was possible. Is it due to the lack of supervision of these novices by their seniors that allowed them to accept a request in a WhatsApp group? Should there be checks and balances on foreign travel by Bhikkhus?

What shocked Buddhists was what followed next; the arrest of the Nayaka of Atamasthana for allegedly having sex with a minor. Anuradhapura was our first capital and Sri Maha Bodhi is the longest surviving authenticated tree in the world. Ruwanweliseya and Jetawanaramaya were among the ten tallest man-made structures in the ancient world, Jetawanaramaya still holding the Guiness record for the largest stupa in the world. Cyberspace is full of theories. Whilst some have condemned the Nayaka Thero even before the conclusion of inquiries whilst others claim that this was a coup by another Nayaka Thera in an attempt of succession.

I was intrigued, reading in a Sri Lankan newspaper about the 80th birthday celebrations of a Nayaka priest, who was convicted in London in 2012 of historical child sex abuse and sentenced to seven years in prison. I remember the case very well as he was the head of the Vihara, we had our first contact on relocating to the UK. I also remember his devotees, who believed that he was wrongly accused, collecting over £50,000 for an appeal. In spite of being represented by one of the top Barristers in the UK, the conviction was upheld but the jail-term was reduced by a year. His name is still on the sex-offenders register in the UK and he is permanently prevented from association with children. One can argue that as he has served the sentence and not reoffended, this should not be held against him but what baffled me is that he is still being referred to as the Chief Sangha Nayaka. Should a person on the sex-offenders register be the Chief Sangha Nayaka?

It is high time we put our own house in order before fighting the external enemies. It is reported that the former president CBK has written to the Mahanayakas requesting urgent reform and we should be obliged to her for taking the lead.

There are many aspects that need urgent reform, the first being removal of caste barriers practiced by some Nikayas, which is the greatest insult to the Buddha who promoted equality. The second is the active encouragement of Bhikkhuni Sasana which has not happened in spite of the landmark ruling by the supreme court. The third is the establishment of proper disciplinary processes under a single Adhikarana Sangha Nayaka with powers and support than allowing the government to take over the control of even non-criminal Vinaya matters.

There are many other issues that need settlement like the controversy of the land of Buddha’s birth which seems to linger on. An expert committee should hear all evidence and settle this issue once and for all.

As I have pointed out on many occasions in these columns, it is high time a Dhamma Sangayana was held, as the last one was 70 years ago. Ideally, it should be different with active participation of lay experts as well. It is the duty of us Buddhists to ensure that the words of wisdom of the Buddha continue to enlighten generations to come.

By Dr Upul Wijayawardhana

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Vijaya Kumar: Academic, Activist & Genial Fellow-Traveller

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Professor Vijaya Kumar

The University of Ceylon, Peradeniya, was in our time, a less-crowded residential university, where everybody knew everybody else or at least knew of everybody else.

I knew of Emeritus Professor Vijaya Kumar of the Department of Chemistry at Peradeniya, or Kumar, as we referred to him fondly, before I got to know him. His dear wife Savitri, also a member of the academic staff of the Department of Chemistry, was nicknamed Kumee, by some of their students (of which vintage is unknown to me) and the duo were thereafter referred to affectionately as Kumar and Kumee.

The Faculty of Science became a regular haunt of mine as I would go there in the company of my batchmates to attend lectures on Basic Mathematics given by Professor Maheswaran, as it was a requirement for our General Arts Qualifying Examinations. I would also go there to listen to some excellent talks under a programme that was held in the auditorium of the Science Faculty referred to as “Popular Science Gossip”. The “gossip” at these talks were not confined solely to science but were broad enough to include Literature, History and other branches of knowledge as well. I would often spot Kumar in the audience at these talks or bump into him in the corridors of the Science Faculty. But I got to know him personally only after he became the Warden of Arunachalam, my hall of residence, during my undergraduate years initially, and later, as a member of the academic staff of the Department of English.

Our Science Faculty undergraduate contemporaries, especially those at Arunachalam Hall and its immediate neighbour, Jayatilaka Hall, both within a stone’s throw away from the Science Faculty, shared many an anecdote about Kumar and their other lecturers. One of these anecdotes, had to do with a spectacular (motor car) driving feat of Kumar’s. Legend has it that he drove from his university bungalow-home to the Faculty of Science deploying only the reverse gear of his car! Kumar, on hearing of this, had told certain of his student friends, including some who became his colleagues later on, that this story is one of the biggest yarns he had heard in his life!

Some of his one-time younger colleagues, now in retirement like Kumar, tell me that Kumar exuded warmth and friendliness in all of his professional and administrative interactions with others in the wider university community. But there was no warmth or mercy for those who indulged in the unsavoury pastime of student ‘ragging’. He was a very strong proponent of the need to ensure to all freshers an environment free of the menace of ‘ragging’. He remained ever-vigilant during the ‘ragging’ season. There are stories of his chasing ‘raggers’ and catching them. Professor Maheswaran, who later became an intimate friend and remains so after more than half a century, was another who was fiercely opposed to ‘ragging’. I was a personal witness to Mahes chasing a ‘ragger’ up and down the stairs of the main library to nab him. Yet another of his students has noted that Kumar’s office room in the Faculty was a total mess at all times. It had tables, piled so high with books and documents that one could not easily spot Kumar at his desk. He, however, had the knack of pulling out from amidst the clutter, any document that he needed at any given time. If anybody were to volunteer to help tidy his desk, Kumar would respond firmly with “Don’t you touch my desk!”.

Kumar, like several of his colleagues in the other faculties as well, had his own eccentricities. According to information received from reliable sources, Kumar who taught Organic Chemistry used to carry his lecture notes in his shirt or trouser pocket with ‘the entire lecture condensed in point form on a half-sheet or half of a half-sheet of paper’. The way he rummaged through his sling bag filled to the brim with stuff to find an item that he needed was another ritual that amused onlookers.

Kumar, interestingly enough is a Royal-cum-Thomian product, in that he had his primary education at S.Thomas’ Prep School, Kollupitiya and the entirety of his secondary education at Royal College, which he entered in 1953. In a note written by Kumar himself, he notes that despite having had excellent teachers at Royal, his was not a notable school career. He goes on to say that “the only achievement I could boast of was my being the joint-winner of the school General Knowledge Prize”. However, he had been active in a Scout Group outside of school (1st Port of Colombo, Sea Scouts) where he “was Queen’s Scout, Patrol leader, and later, Assistant Scout Master”.

Kumar entered the Faculty of Science of the University of Ceylon in 1961 and secured from it an honours degree in Chemistry in 1965. He joined the academic staff of the Department of Chemistry in the Faculty of Science, University of Ceylon, Peradeniya in 1965 and left the following year for Magdalen College at Oxford University, from which institution he obtained his doctorate in Chemistry. His entire teaching career was at Peradeniya, where in the period 2003-2006 he served as the Dean of the Faculty of Science, a position that his late father-in-law had held a few decades earlier.

Among the other highlights of his career are: Chairman of the Industrial Technology Institute (formerly the Ceylon Institute of Scientific and Industrial Research, CISIR); Member (representing Sri Lanka) of the Geneva-based UN Commission on Science and Technology from 1999 to 2007 and its President from 2001-2003; President of the Sri Lanka Estate Workers Union from 1989 onwards; Member of the Politburo of the Lanka Sama Samaja Party from 1988 to 2014 and currently, a member of the Executive Committee of the National People’s Power (NPP).

Vijaya and Savitri Kumar are parents of daughters Shamala and Ramya, who are following in the footsteps of their parents: with the former teaching in the Department of Agricultural Economics in the Faculty of Agriculture, University of Peradeniya and the latter, in the Department of Community Medicine at the University of Jaffna.

(I wish to thank the following who assisted me in the writing of this brief essay: Mr. Bandula Warnakulasuriya, Emeritus Professor Ratnayake Bandara, Professor Mahinda Wickramaratne, Professor Swarna Wimalasiri and Mr. Manik de Silva).

*Editor’s note: Prof. Vijaya Kumar, a member of the NPP’s National Executive Committee and is still active in politics turns 84 today. This article by Tissa Jayatilaka, former Executive Director of the United States – Sri Lanka Fulbright Commission for Mutual Academic Exchange, was written for an upcoming collection of essays on Kumar’s life by his friends.

(Colombo Telegraph)

By Tissa Jayatilaka

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