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Ekagei kaema (polyandry) – a way of life in the Kandyan highlands

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by Jayantha Perera

Hingula is a small bazaar 60 miles from Colombo on the Colombo-Kandy Road. A narrow, tarred road starts from there, and a signboard says, ‘To Aluth Nuwara Devalayala.’ The logo of the Archaeological Department on the signboard indicates the devalaya (temple) is a state-protected archaeological site.

The temple is about two miles from the bazaar. The road winds through a breathtaking vista of green rice terraces cascading from low hills to narrow lowlands. The rice terraces, like thin carpets with precise lengths and widths, create a mesmerising sight. Large Mara (Samanea saman) trees and patches of tall teak trees provide shade to pedestrians. A rubber plantation and tiny homesteads with arecanut palms interspersed with clove gardens, fruit trees, and pepper vines displaying vibrant colours in sunlight. The winding road takes a right turn by a large open hut. It goes over the shoe bridge that spans a dry stream bed before arriving at the Devalgama Junction. There are several kiosks, and one of them is a tea boutique where old men read newspapers and chit-chat without any hurry to leave. My research assistant, the jeep driver, and I entered the kiosk and ordered tea with seen banis (a small round bun with melted sugar).

Our arrival at the village was met with a palpable sense of caution. This initial reaction is significant, reflecting the villagers’ wariness towards outsiders. Those at the kiosk, though initially reluctant to engage in conversation, studied our Mitsubishi Jeep with a mix of suspicion and curiosity. A man, perhaps the boldest among them, asked, “Policye mahathwaruda?” (Are you Police officers?) I reassured them that we were not and explained our plan to study the cooperative aspects of farming, particularly in rice farming and irrigation water management. However, they quickly dispersed, leaving the tea kiosk empty.

We visited the temple and worshipped the Dadimunda Deiyo (God). When we came out of the temple, Kapu Mahaththaya (the lay official of the temple) was waiting for us. He was a charming middle-aged man with a friendly smile. He had received a message from the Government Agent of Kegalle District that a team of researchers from Colombo was coming to Devalgama. He invited us for lunch at his aunt’s house. The house was an old waluwwa (mansion). Old paintings and photographs covered the walls of the large dining room. Two giant elephant tusks mounted on two mahogany blocks stood at the entrance.

I told Kapu Mahattaya we were looking for a hamlet to research the cooperative aspects of farming. He recommended Devith hamlet. I asked him to help us find a place to stay for a few months. He said residents might refuse to keep three young men in their homes. He advised us to remain where caste does not hamper our work.

Kapu Mahattaya informed us he owns a hut in a rice field. His wage workers seasonally stay there. The hut has a cement floor and a thatched roof. Two large windows open to the rice fields, bringing in sunlight and a cooling breeze. The two windows and the only door can be locked from inside. He showed us a shallow well just by the rice fields. There is a small toilet behind the house. He promised to find a woman to cook our meals.

We walked to the rice fields behind the house. The closest mountain formed a horseshoe with a small flat area in the middle for a pathaha (pond). A natural spring from a mountain watered it. Local legends say Dadimunda Deiyo caused a water spring to send water to the pond by striking the ground with his staff. We could see the mist gradually covering the hilltops and felt cold.

Kapu Mahattaya walked with us to meet an old woman. She agreed to cook our meals and told us to come to her hut for lunch and dinner. She wanted us to buy rice, vegetables, curry and chilli powder, salt, cooking oil, and coconuts from a nearby boutique. She told us we should have lunch before noon and dinner by 5.30 pm. We gave her Rs. 100 as an advance, which she happily accepted.

We unloaded our bags and sent the ARTI jeep back to Colombo. Kapu Mahattaya visited us in the evening. I told him we were happy to stay in the hut and thanked him for his generosity. When I asked him how to lock the hut from the outside, he promised to buy a padlock and a hasp from Hingula. He took us to the boutique behind the hut and introduced us to its owner and his wife. They offered us tea and hulang viscothu (air biscuits). We bought five pounds of rice, eggs, a packet of curry powder, salt, coconuts, vegetables, and a bottle of cooking oil from the boutique and delivered them to our cook. She cooked rice and a brinjal curry and prepared pol sambal for dinner.

We had kimbula banis (flat, hard buns) and sweetened plain tea for breakfast at the kadey. We then visited a randomly selected few houses, introduced ourselves, and explained why we stayed in the village. The villagers were cordial and particularly interested in our caste, marital status, and employment. This interest in our personal information is significant as it underscores the importance of social status and personal history in the community. An old man told us that there were two unresolved murder cases in the village. He wondered whether we were CID (police intelligence) officers who wanted to reopen the murder investigations.

Our interaction with villagers improved when Kanthi joined us as a field assistant. She was a Kapu Mahattaya’s relative. She was in her late thirties, divorced, and came from a pelanthiya (high social status group) in a nearby hamlet. She graduated from Peradeniya University with a degree in economics and worked as a research assistant in a development project. While in Kandy, she married a colleague against her parents’ advice. They ostracised her from the family for marrying an outsider. The marriage failed in two years, and she returned to her parents.

Kanthi introduced villagers to us, paying attention to their caste, class, and employment status. First, she introduced us to three feudal pelanthiya families who owned most of the village land. Kapu Mahattaya’s family was one of them. Then she introduced us to several goigama (cultivator caste) middle-class families. Some owned small pieces of land, and others were tenants. Kanthi took us to high-caste and goigama families before visiting achari (blacksmith) and vahumpura (potter) families. They were service castes who played an essential role in the temple’s festivals. Some of them cultivated temple land on lease and performed temple duties.

The villagers considered Kanthi to be a reliable person. They were happy to talk to us when she was with us. At our initial interviews, Kanthi answered the questions before the villagers answered them! She was a walking databank. Villagers checked their facts and numbers with her before answering our questions. They respected her because of her work to educate poor children and her readiness to help them regardless of their caste or class. After her father’s death, she became the de facto chief of her family. She managed rice and other crop cultivation on her ancestral lands.

Kanthi stayed with us for fieldwork from 9 am to 5.30 pm. She never visited us at our hut or invited us home. She preferred to discuss fieldwork arrangements at the tea boutique before the villagers. However, after two weeks, the villagers lost interest in our work and did not linger to listen to our discussions.

Kanthi taught us the structure of the village community and how economic, social, and political alliances overlap. She explained how pelantiyas go up and down in the social status ladder mainly because of debt, litigation, and gambling. I was interested in studying Kandyan marriage alliances such as diga (virilocal) and binna (matrilocal) and inheritance customs. However, she was reluctant to discuss issues with me because she did not want to reveal family tensions over inheritance in the context of her divorce.

One day, Kanthi brought a large cane basket of food. Her family had returned from a wedding and brought lots of food; she got a portion for us. While enjoying the food at the tea kiosk, she introduced us to a young man named Vijay. Vijay lived in Colombo, where he had a motorcycle business. Later, I asked Kanthi about him. She smiled and told me he visited his home only once a month. He was a married man, and his wife lived in the hamlet. Then she said Vijay and his brother, Ratne, shared one wife. It was a polyandrous marital arrangement known as ‘ekgei kanawa’ (eat and live together as one household). The three – Vijay, Ratne, and their wife, Kumari – maintained one household.

Kanthi was an excellent storyteller. One day she delved into the ekgei kaema institution in detail. Kumari was her friend and shared her secrets with her. As I was not a member of the village community, Kanthi did not mind telling me what she knew. Although Kumari was married to the two brothers, her favourite was Ratne, a farmer who lived in the village. Vijay wanted to keep Kumari from his elder brother, Ratne. He yielded to his parents’ pressure and agreed to share Kumari with Ratne in one household. The parents of Vijay and Ratne owned a large tract of ancestral land. They wanted to keep it from fragmenting through inheritance and succession. Their strategy was to get a ‘common’ wife for the two brothers and accept their ‘common’ children as heirs to the ancestral estate.

Vijay wanted to sell his property share to raise money and start a business in Kegalle. But his father opposed the proposal and told him to live with his brother and Kumari or leave the family. Vijay hesitated and then agreed to keep a joint household with his brother and Kumari. Kumari’s parents told her to marry Ratne and later insisted that she accept Vijay as her co-husband. She did not refuse because she knew her parents were keen to improve their social and economic status by having access to the large rice field jointly owned by Vijay and Ratne.

The two brothers informed Kumari in advance of their sleeping plans with her. Vijay and Ratne had no problem in this regard, as Vijay lived outside the village. Ratne and Kumari had lived a happy family life. Vijay’s monthly conjugal access to Kumari for a day or two did not disturb their peace at home. Soon, Vijay became a drunkard. When he returned home for a few days, he went out with his friends to Hingula and returned home after midnight. Ratne respected the ekgei kaema arrangement and always found an excuse to leave home when Vijay came home. Ratne was worried about Kumari, as, on several occasions, Vijay had assaulted her.

Kanthi explained the root cause of the new tension at Kumari’s house. Ratne wanted a child, but Vijay did not. Vijay feared that Ratne might impregnate Kumari as they were usually together. Ratne was willing to suspend his access to his wife for a month or more so that Vijay could impregnate Kumari, but on one condition—the next child had to be his. Kanthi said the proposal was risky and was against tradition. The children of a household that followed ekgei kaema rules were considered ‘common’ children of co-husbands, making them co-heirs to their parent’s property.

Knowing a child’s biological father might encourage the co-father to ill-treat the child. Also, if Vijay or Ratne were infertile, the proposed arrangement would not work. Such tensions would destroy the ekgei kana marriage, affecting the undivided property. Ratne was willing to treat Vijay’s child as his own if Ratne failed to beget an heir. Vijay was resentful of such arrangements and thought Kumari was behind such proposals. Kanthi worried that one day, the two brothers would resort to violence to resolve their relationship with Kumari, who had no voice in the proposals and negotiations.

Kanthi knew several other families that followed the ekgei kana arrangement. Tensions it could generate over children, spouses, and undivided property were usually kept as family secrets and never revealed to outsiders.

Devith hamlet is not an idyllic village community. It always has social tensions arising from caste, class, social status, and social arrangements such as ekgei kaema. People have developed tension management schemes as part of the village social organisation. The critical tension management lever is the rigid caste hierarchy and associated purity or impurity. Another is the belief that the mighty God, Dadimunda, controls the area and keeps an eye on the moral character of the local population. The temple murals depict the God as an elite Kandyan aristocrat. He punishes those who violate norms, customs, and rituals. The belief in fate also plays a crucial role in legitimising the caste hierarchy and managing tensions.

One is born into a low-caste family or lives a comfortable life as a feudal landlord because of past bad or good karma (action). The power of gossip and rumour is more potent than any of the above levers. Kanthi always cautioned me about gossip and rumours. She told me if I had visited her at her home, her neighbours and relatives would have suspected that she had found a lover or a man to marry her. They would have built a ‘reality’ on that assumption as part of the village narrative.



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Putting people back into ‘development’ – a challenge for South

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In need of swift empowerment; working people of Sri Lanka.

Should Sri Lanka consider an 18th IMF programme? Some academicians exploring Sri Lanka’s development prospects in depth are raising this issue. It is yet to emerge as a hot topic among policy and decision-making circles in this country but common sense would sooner rather than later dictate that it be taken up for discussion by the wider public and a decision arrived at.

The issue of an 18th IMF programme was raised with some urgency locally by none other than Dr. Ganeshan Wignaraja,Visiting Senior Fellow, ODI Global London, one of whose presentations, made at the Regional Centre for Strategic Studies (RCSS), Colombo, was highlighted in this column last week, May 7th. An IMF programme is far from the ideal way out for a bankrupt country such as Sri Lanka but a policy of economic pragmatism would indicate that there is no other way out for Sri Lanka. Such a programme is the proverbial ‘Bird in the hand’ for Sri Lanka and it may be compelled to avail of it to get itself out of the morass of economic failures it is bogged down in currently.

While local economic growth possibilities are far from encouraging at present, such prospects globally are far from bright as well. Some of the more thought-provoking data in the latter regard were disclosed by Dr. Wignaraja. For example, ‘The IMF’s April 2026 World Economic Outlook projects global growth slowing to 3.1 percent in 2026; with downside risks dominating: prolonged conflict, geopolitical fragmentation, renewed trade tensions, bearing down hardest on emergent and developing economies.’

However, as is known, an ‘IMF bailout’ is fraught with huge risks for the people of a developing country. ‘The Silver Bullet’ brings hardships for the people usually and they would be required by their governments to increasingly ‘tighten their belts’ and brace for perhaps indefinite material hardships and discontent. For Sri Lanka, the cost of living is unsettlingly high and 20 percent of the population is languishing below the poverty line of $ 3.65 per day.

These statistics should help put the spotlight on the people of a country, who are theoretically the subjects and beneficiaries of development, and one of the main reasons, in so far as democracies are concerned, for the existence of governments. Placing people at the centre of the development process is urgently needed in the global South and shifting the focus to other considerations would be tantamount to governments dabbling in misplaced priorities.

Technocrats are needed for the propelling of economic growth but a Southern country’s main approach to development cannot be entirely technocratic in nature. The well being of the people and how it is affected by such growth strategies need to be prime focuses in discussions on development. Accordingly, discourses on how poverty alleviation could be facilitated need urgent initiation and perpetuation. There is no getting away from people’s empowerment.

In the South over the decades, the above themes have been, more or less, allowed to lapse in discussions on development. With economic liberalization and ‘market economics’ being allowed to eclipse development, correctly understood, people’s well being could be said to have been downplayed by Southern governments.

The development issues of Southern publics could be also said to have been compounded over the years as a result of the hemisphere lacking a single and effective ‘voice’ that could consistently and forcefully take up its questions with the global powers and institutions that matter. That is, the South lacks an all-embracing, umbrella organization that could bring together and muster the collective will of the South and work towards the realization of its best interests.

This columnist has time and again brought up the need for concerned Southern sections to explore the potential within the now virtually moribund Non-Aligned Movement to reactivate itself and fill the above lacuna in the South’s organizational and mobilization capability. In its heyday NAM not only possessed this institutional capability but had ample ‘voice power’ in the form of its founding fathers, with Jawaharlal Nehru of India, for example, proving a power to reckon with in this regard. The lack of such leaders at present needs to be factored in as well as accounting for the South’s lack of power and presence in the deliberative forums of the world that have a bearing on the hemisphere’s well being.

The Executive Director of the RCSS, Ambassador (Retd) Ravinatha Aryasinha, articulated some interesting thoughts on the above and related questions at a forum a couple of months back. Speaking at the launching of the book authored by Prof. Gamini Keerewella titled, ‘Reimagining International Relations from a Global South Perspective’, at the Bandaranaike Centre for International Studies, Colombo, Amb. Aryasinha said, among other things: ‘Historically, there is a precedent that has been realized by the Non-Aligned group of countries – unfortunately, rather than being reformed and modified at the end of the Cold War, it has been tossed away.’

The inability of the nominally existent NAM to come out of its state of veritable paralysis and voice and act in the name of the South in the current international crises lends credence to the view that the organization has allowed itself to be ‘tossed away.’ The challenge before NAM is to prove that it is by no means a spent force.

As indicted, NAM needs vibrant voices that could advocate value-based advancement for the global South. Moral principles need to triumph over Realpolitik. Such transformative changes could come to pass if there is a fresh meeting of enlightened minds within the South. Pakistan by offering to mediate in the ongoing conflict between the US and Iran, for instance, proved that there are still states within the South that could look beyond narrow self-interest and work towards some collective goals. Hopefully, Pakistan’s example will be emulated.

Along with Pakistan some Gulf states have shown willingness to work towards a de-escalation of the present hostilities in West Asia. This could be a beginning for the undertaking of more ambitious, collective projects by the South that have as their goals political solutions to current international crises. These developments prove that the South is not bereft of visionary thinking that could lay the basis for a measure of world peace. That is, there are grounds to be hopeful.

NAM needs to see it as its responsibility to make good use of these hopeful signs to bring the South together once again and work towards the realization of its founding principles, such as initiating value-based international politics and laying the basis for the collective economic betterment of Southern people.

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Artificial Intelligence in Academia: Menace or Tool?

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(The author is on X as @sasmester)

I have often been told by university colleagues how soulless and dangerous ‘artificial intelligence’ (AI) is to academia and humanity. They lament that students no longer read anything as they can now get various AI programmes to summarise what is recommended which is mostly in the English language to Sinhala or Tamil or get easier versions in English itself. They get their assignments and even dissertations fully or partially written by AI. And I am led to believe that universities do not have reliable detection software to assess plagiarism and academic fraud that have been committed using AI beyond the software freely available on the internet with their own limitations. This is due to financial restrictions in these institutions. Even these common malpractices have been done mostly with the aid of free AI programmes which are readily available, which means cheating in this sense is free and mostly safe. For teachers, this is a ‘menace’ in the same way ‘copying’ once was. But its implications are far worse.

But given the global investments made over AI, it cannot be wished away despite the enormous negative impact its use has on the environment, particularly due to its massive demand for energy. So, AI is with us to stay, and it has a considerable role to play in human civilisation even though like most innovations and inventions, this too carries its own burden of negativity. In this context, instead of demonising AI and lamenting its replacement of human agency and ingenuity, one needs to think seriously about how to deal with and engage with it reflectively and pragmatically as there is much it can offer if people are intelligent enough to make rational and sensible choices.

When I am making these observations, I am restricting myself to a handful of practices involving only writing both in university-based examination processes and in the fields of creative writing.

My initial introduction to AI was through the Research Methods class I used to teach in New Delhi. In 2022, this class was supposed to go to Dharmshala in Uttar Pradesh for fieldwork training, and we needed to write a funding proposal quickly. One of the students in the class, already familiar with ChatGPT introduced by OpenAI as a free programme in 2022, did the proposal with its help before the two-hour class was over. I edited it soon after and sent it off to the university administration for funding which we received. That stint of field work was completed in five days and was the most detailed work undertaken as a training programme up to that time in the university which had considerable output ranging from a documentary film to a detailed ethnography based on the findings.

While the technical details, the format of the proposal and its basic writing were done by AI due to the time constraints the class faced, its fine-tuning was done by me and a few students. AI could not then and even now cannot undertake that level of specificity without close human intervention. But the film, the ethnography and the actual process of research had nothing to do with AI. It was the result of human labour, thinking, planning and at times creativity and ingenuity. This was an early example of how AI could coexist in an academic environment if its technical usefulness was clearly understood and potential for excesses was also understood. But this was a time, easily accessible AI was just emerging, and we did not know much about it. But I was fortunate enough to have intelligent students in my class who gave me a crash course into this kind of AI use, which I followed up with my own reading and experimentation later on. As a result, I am keener now to see how it can be used for the betterment of academic practice rather than taking an uncritically demonising position, which I know will not lead anywhere.

But how is this possible? The lamentations of my colleagues about the abuse of AI in academic practice is not unfounded. It is a serious threat that remains mostly unaddressed not only in our country but almost everywhere else in the world too. This is mostly because the advancements of AI even in day-to-day free usage have far exceeded any thoughts for actionable codes of ethics to ensure its practice is sensible and ethical. At the same time, I cannot see why a student should not use AI to correct his spelling and grammar in assignments. I also cannot see why a student cannot seek AI’s help to secure research material from secondary sources available online which I have been doing for years. For instance, the originals of specific books and rare manuscripts might not be available in any repositories in our part of the world. In such situations, what AI might find us is all we have access to in a world where we are restricted in our mobility due to semi-racist visa regimes of failed empires and former superpowers as well as our own lack of ability to travel due to our own unenviable economic conditions. But unfortunately, the materials we need are often only available in research centers and libraries in those nations.

Similarly, when it comes to academic prose, it makes no sense now to take years to translate works from multiple languages to Sinhala and Tamil. This has always been a time-consuming, cumbersome and expensive process. Non-availability of Sinhala and English translations of core originals in languages such as English, French, German and so on has been a long-term problem for our country. But this can now be done well – at least from English to our languages – quite quickly and with a very low margin for error by using specific AI programmes which are meant to do precisely this. What this means is a quick expansion of knowledge in local languages which would have ordinarily taken years to achieve or might not have been possible at all. But still, this needs significant human intervention and time towards perfection. However, I do not think AI-based translations work as well for fiction and poetry or creative works more generally. But the ability for AI to emulate nuance and feeling in language is fast emerging. These are two clear examples of improving technical abilities in research and writing in which AI can be of help.

But looking for sources of information with help the help of AI or using it as a tool to undertake essential translations from one language to another is quite different from simply using it without ascertaining the accuracy of collected information, getting AI to do all your work without any reflection or without any hard work at all, including engaging AI to do the final product in a writing assignment — be that a term paper or a work of fiction. If one proceeds in this direction, as many unfortunately do nowadays, then, our ability to think and be creative as a species will become diminished over time and our sense of humanity itself will take a toll. This is what my colleagues worry about when they say AI is making younger generations soulless.

It is here that ethical practices on how to use AI responsibly without compromising our sense of humanity must play a central role. But these ethical practices must be formally written and taught, followed by viable programmes for detection and publication if unethical practices are followed. This needs to be the case particularly in teaching institutions as well as the broader domain of creative writing. After all, what is the fun in reading a novel or a collection of poetry written by AI?

It is time people began to think about what AI can do in their own fields without falling prey to its power and their own laziness. This brings to my mind Geoffrey Hinton’s words: “There is no chance of stopping AI’s development. But we need to ensure alignment; to ensure it is beneficial to us …” Similarly, as Yann LeCun observed, “AI is not just about replicating human intelligence; it’s about creating intelligent systems that can surpass human limitations.” In this sense, it is up to us to find our edge in creativity and common sense to find the most sensible way forward in using AI.

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Engelbert’s 90th birthday bash

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The legendary Engelbert Humperdinck, who is known for his hit songs such as ‘A Man Without Love’, ‘Release Me’, ‘Spanish Eyes’, ‘The Last Waltz’, ‘Am I That Easy To Forget’, ‘Ten Guitars’ and ‘I Can’t Stop Loving You’, turned 90 on 02 May, 2026, and there were some lovely Hollywood-related celebrations.

Before his birthday, Engelbert’s new single ‘I’ve Got You’ was released – on 23 April – and Engelbert had this to say: “‘I’ve Got You’ is especially close to my heart. It speaks to love, loyalty, and the quiet strength we find in one another”.

The main birthday event was held at The Starlight Cabaret, in Los Angeles, California, and Sri Lankan Raju Rasiah, now based in the States, and his wife Renuka, who are personal friends of Engelbert, were invited to participate in the celebrations, along with Ingrid Melicon – also a Sri Lankan, now domiciled in America.

The invitation said “An evening of music, memories and celebration. Let’s make it a night to remember!” And it certainly turned out to be a night never ever to be forgotten!

Invitees experienced a “magical entrance” with Engelbert’s name lighting up the screen and showing him performing his hit songs.

The invitees were also presented with a unique gift – a necklace with Engelbert’s face, engraved with the words “Remember, I Love You.”

Engelbert’s son, Bradley Dorsey, sang a tribute song ‘Only You’ for his dad, while Eddy Fisher’s daughters, Tricia and Joely, also got on stage to entertaining the distinguish gathering.

Engelbert didn’t perform but got on stage for the cutting of the birthday cake.

There was also a video compilation of birthday wishes from fellow celebrities, and the lineup included Gloria Gaynor, Micky Dolenz, Wayne Newton, Pat Boone, Lulu, Judy Collins, Deana Martin, Angélica María, Rupert Everett, Matt Goss, and more.

Birthday boy Engelbert Humperdinck

At 90, Engelbert is still performing. He’s on THE CELEBRATION TOUR for his 90th year, with over 50 international dates in 2026, including Australia, Germany, the US, and Canada. He’ll be at Massey Hall in, Toronto, on 06 October, 2026. He said: “The stage is my home… Canada has always been a highlight”.

He performed 60+ concerts, worldwide, in 2025, and says karaoke keeps his songs fresh: “Most of my songs are on karaoke because people love to sing them”.

 

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