Features
Working at Rosmead Place
Although Mr Bandaranaike had a spacious office at Senate Square in the Fort he preferred to work from 65 Rosmead Place, his home. As fancy took him, we would attend to the papers either at the dining table or in the sitting room. It was all very informal with the household activity going on around us. Sometimes the children were at home and their conversations with each other or the mother would be an interesting break from our file work.
Once, Anura, who was about seven or eight and very keen on cricket, was batting on the lawn and being given a difficult time by a young lad brought in from the village to play with him. The lad, who was three or four years older, was constantly breaking Anura’s stumps with his fast bowling. Unable to bear this any longer, Anura shouted to his father that the boy was bowling him out all the time. Without saying a word and with a file in his hand, Mr Bandaranaike walked out and told the boy that he had been brought to Colombo to play with Anura and not to keep bowling him out. That considerably improved matters and Anura continued his love of the game.
I recall too at this time, Chandrika coming home after her ballet lessons and the father introducing her to some visitors with the words “and here comes my Pavlova”. The girls, Sunethra and Chandrika, went to St Bridget’s and Anura to Royal Prep in the same car with an ayah and the morning departure always seemed very rushed. Chandrika was usually the late one. It was a habit which ran in the family except in the case of Mrs Bandaranaike who, obviously, was of more disciplined stock.
Mr Bandaranaike was a master in the usage of English language and was very particular with the style and wording in the letters which he would sign. I was very confused in the early days regarding the first line of acknowledgment of a letter which I would draft for him. When should I use the rather common `I am in receipt of your letter of such and such’ and not `I have your letter of such and such’? If I used receipt, he would say “No, I have your letter.” It left me so traumatized that at times I thought I would just toss for it. But after a while I seemed to get it right.
There was once the use of the word circa which came up in a letter drafted by M N Jilla, assistant secretary of the ministry of defence indicating that the leases to Britain of the air base at Katunayake had been done in ‘circa 1946’. This elicited a classic retort. “Circa,” Mr Bandaranaike’s lips curled contemptuously over the word, “circa 1066 perhaps, but never circa 1946.”
Mr Bandaranaike’s public speeches were pure gems with sonorous cadences studded with classical allusions. The speech he delivered at the convocation at the University of Peradeniya in 1957 had a special appeal and profoundity. He was referring appropriately enough to the new times and his quotation that afternoon was from The Garden of the Hesperides.
And none may taste the golden fruit,
Till the golden new time come,
Many a tree shall spring from shoot,
Many a flower be withered at root,
And many a song shall be dumb,
Broken and still shall be many a lute,
Or ere the new times come.
It was magical stuff and a prelude to many other similar treats.
As to official conferences, I found his first chairing of the pre-budget estimate discussions in 1956 direct, informal and at times downright hilarious, with the famous Bandaranaike brand of humour coming to full flower in situations connected with the lower human anatomy. His earlier stints as a minister of government especially in the State Council days had given him a sharp eye for the cracks and fault-lines in government business.
The discussion that day was of the home affairs ministry on the item of maintenance of rest-houses and the urgency of money for repairs and improvements. While strongly endorsing the conversion of the old style bucket-toilets with water-seal systems he regaled the company with a story of what had happened to his good friend Abraham at the old Dompe rest-house.
Apparently Abraham, an agricultural instructor, on circuit, had gone to the loo on urgent business but had rushed out shouting that he had been bitten by a cobra who had been lurking inside the receptacle. The rest-house arachchi was summoned and after due search, soon disclosed that it was not a cobra at all, but a hen that was sitting on her eggs – the toilet not having had occupancy for some weeks. The hen had fluffed up and pecked what she thought was an object descending on her. Abraham clearly was not amused at the explanation. Bandaranaike’s full-blooded tales certainly kept the usually dull budget meetings alive and greatly lightened my minute-taking.
There was another great story which someone, who was at Horagolla on the day the prime minister set apart for meeting his constituents, told us. Apparently an old acquaintance was complaining about the inordinate increase in the rent he was paying. He was finding it difficult to make, as he put it, both ends meet. What was most unconscionable was that he was being charged, as he said, “450 rupees per annum” — with the stress on the a, as in aviation. Mr Bandaranaike had echoed him saying, “Good gracious! My poor man, per a num?” and continued, “My dear fellow, that must certainly have been much more painful than paying through the nose.” I can imagine that all this was way above the head of the constituent who would have walked away both relieved at the hearing afforded him and equally mystified at the prime minister’s extreme concern.
Mr Bandaranaike loved going to the Parliament and his speeches and repartee were much enjoyed in a chamber boasting a galaxy of brilliant English speakers. All of them, each in their own way were forceful and eloquent — Colvin R de Silva of the LSSP, Pieter Keuneman of the CP, J R Jayewardene of the UNP, the brothers Robert and Philip Gunewardene among the foremost. But Mr Bandaranaike rode above them all, imperious, commanding and sardonic, cutting especially the hapless UNP opposition speakers into shreds.
His Sinhala speeches, although he hardly wrote in the language and read it with difficulty, were no less ironic and forceful. Forged in the smithy of the public platform and assisted by a phenomenal memory — the essential stock in trade of the political leader — he would translate almost word for word a complicated cluster of sentences he had a moment earlier mouthed in English. I found this bilingual competency in public speaking staggering, especially since he did not often use Sinhala in normal daily speech. The language with officials, and at home in the drawing room and at the dining table was invariably, always English.
Giving effect to his chief election pledge of Sinhala Only in 24 hours was Mr Bandaranaike’s immediate concern. As he ingenuously put it, all it needed to fulfil this pledge was to begin the process early by introducing the necessary legislation. And he proceeded to do so with one of the shortest pieces of legislation the Parliament had seen. The draft `Sinhala Only’ bill was worked on at Rosmead Place and although Mr Bandaranaike tried hard to soften its impact by permitting English and Tamil to be used for a transition period and candidates for government service to sit for examinations in those languages, the hardliners had their way and key clauses were dropped.
The introduction of the Bill in the Parliament on June 5 satisfied those important constituencies who had campaigned for the change but triggered a convulsive reaction especially in the Tamil majority areas of the country. I was personally a witness to the Tamil reaction through the satyagraha the Federal Party launched on the northern end of Galle Face Green the day the Bill was introduced. About 150 satyagrahis dressed in white were seated on the grass that morning as I drove slowly by on my way to office.
Among them were some whom I recognized – Dr E M V Naganathan and my university colleague C S Navaratnam, later MP for Chavakacheri. Soon after I had passed I learnt that the peaceful protest had been broken up by armed thugs who chased the satyagrahis off the Green.. Some of them had sought refuge in the Galle Face Hotel. Later that morning when the House convened, I was in the officials box to see Dr Naganathan come in with his head swathed in a bloody bandage. It was sad to hear the usually gentlemanly prime minister taunt the wounded MP with the words “here he is with his wounds of war.”
Trouble erupted that morning with rampaging mobs in the Pettah looting boutiques. In the Eastern Province, especially in Trincomalee and Batticaloa, mob violence broke out with attack and counter-attack by both ethnic groups. In the Gal Oya valley, in Ampara – where I was to serve in the 1970s as government agent –rumours fanned the rioting and the Sinhalese colonists, many of them labourers from the development scheme who had been given land allotments, rose against the Tamils. It was reported that over a 100 were killed and thousands made homeless in three days of rioting. This was, up to then, the worst episode of ethnic strife the country had faced. The signs for the future were not propitious.
I am certain Mr Bandaranaike was acutely concerned at what had happened and the potential for the worsening of the ethnic problem. He never indulged in communal bigotry and strove throughout 1957 to lessen the impact of the official language legislation on the Tamil people and forwarded his proposal for the ‘reasonable use of Tamil’ in the conduct of the administration. He decided to link this with the work he had been doing preparing legislation on the concept of the regional councils.
This led to opposition from extremists on both sides of the divide. Among the Sinhalese the extremists were joined by the UNP under J R Jayewardene who accused the prime minister of a colossal fraud’ and of giving in to the exaggerated claims of a small coterie of Tamils. This was ironically a complete reversal of roles of what had happened in 1955 in the run-up to the election where the SLFP had accused the UNP of betrayal of the Sinhala cause and giving in to the Tamils, through its then two-language policy.
This was another defining moment in our political history and an unfortunate phenomenon which was to recur in the future. The party in power in late 1957 – the SLFP (MEP) – was trying to foster accommodation. The party in opposition – the UNP – was parochially trying to wreck it. The equation was to be reversed many times over in my 50 years with the country’s political leaders.
In June 1957, discussions between Mr Bandaranaike and the Federal Party led by S J V Chelvanayakam commenced about the powers of the regional councils. The FP wanted regional control over land alienation, agriculture, fisheries, industries, education and health. The prime minister gave ground on Sinhalese colonization in predominantly Tamil areas and in the background of further Tamil agitation on July 25, a pact – the BC or Bandaranaike-Chelvanayakam Pact was signed. It was a historic moment and symbolized Mr Bandaranaike’s genuine commitment for accommodating the Tamil community, short of language parity and the abrogation of the `Sinhala Only’ Act which the FP had demanded.
The BC Pact had brought some important concessions to the Tamils, given the then rigidly centralist policies and practices of the state. Selection of settlers on state land was left to the regional council; the councils in Tamil areas would be permitted to amalgamate and collaborate; and, although still to be specified by the Parliament, the regional councils would have certain powers over agriculture, education, health and taxation.
I recall vividly the protest campaigns that followed the disclosure of the details of the pact which were fully reported especially in the Ceylon Daily News. The protests came both from the political opposition, the UNP as well as hardliners from the prime minister’s own party. J R Jayewardene termed it a ‘betrayal of the Sinhalese’ and even Dudley Senanyake called it an ‘act of treachery’. On the Tamil side, G G Ponnambalam (who had advocated 50:50 for allocation of seats in the Parliament between the Sinhalese and the minorities before the Soulbury commissioners in 1945) saw it as an ‘abject surrender’ to the Sinhalese. But the silent majority on both sides of the divide, I felt, were relieved at the positive initiative towards harmony and future peace.
Features
Addressing human rights needs multi-pronged approach
by Jehan Perera
The ongoing 63rd session of the United Nations Human Rights Council, which runs from September 7 to October 7, 2026, in Geneva is important to Sri Lanka. Its outcome will send a signal to other international actors, including the European Union, as to whether Sri Lanka’s reform policy is on track. The written update on Sri Lanka, prepared by the Office of the United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights under High Commissioner Volker Türk and presented by Deputy High Commissioner Nada Al-Nashif, has taken a more holistic approach to the government’s performance over the past year. It acknowledged the progress Sri Lanka has made under the NPP government in relation to accountability for financial fraud and other economic crimes. At the same time, the High Commissioner’s update made clear that progress in relation to economic crime cannot be equated with progress in relation to accountability for grave human rights violations committed during the armed conflict and in other periods of political violence.
The government may have felt sufficiently confident that its response to the High Commissioner’s update could be handled by its representative in Geneva and did not require the attendance of Foreign Minister Vijitha Herath. Sri Lanka’s representative Sumith Dassanayake called for a fundamental review of country-specific mandates within the UN Human Rights Council. Sri Lanka has been facing repeated scrutiny in the form of successive UNHRC resolutions from 2012 onwards. Ambassador Dassanayake argued that such mandates should not continue indefinitely and must be regularly assessed against measurable objectives and tangible outcomes. This may reflect confidence that its record of reform is beginning to receive recognition internationally. The reports and statements at the Human Rights Council acknowledged progress in the government’s efforts to address corruption and economic crime.
The government’s anti-corruption drive has included investigations into allegations involving individuals who held the highest political offices in the country. The arrest of former President Ranil Wickremesinghe in connection with alleged misuse of public funds, and the investigation into the controversial SriLankan Airlines Airbus transaction involving former President Mahinda Rajapaksa’s son, are examples of the reach of these investigations. The arrest of SLPP National Organiser and Member of Parliament Namal Rajapaksa in connection with allegations relating to the Airbus purchase scandal has also demonstrated that the government is willing to pursue cases involving politically powerful figures.
Wide Range
The ongoing investigations appear to encompass a wide range of parliamentarians and government members, both past and present. They suggest that accountability for corruption is not being confined to lower-level officials or to individuals who lack political influence. This is precisely the kind of accountability that the public has long demanded and that previous governments have too often failed to deliver. The government is also reaching into the upper levels of the military hierarchies of the past. The case in which 11 young men, most of them Tamil, disappeared after being abducted in Colombo between 2008 and 2009 involved allegations that some families were asked to pay ransoms. The investigation into this case has reached senior military figures. The willingness to pursue such cases is important because it challenges the assumption that those who exercised power during the war are beyond the reach of the law. Such cases would provide a practical test of whether the government’s commitment to accountability for economic crimes is part of a broader commitment to the rule of law.
Success in prosecuting corruption cannot substitute for justice for those who were unlawfully killed, disappeared, tortured or otherwise victimised. The UN report noted that there had been no recognition or accountability for crimes under international law, gross human rights violations and serious violations of international humanitarian law committed by all parties during the war. The government has yet to establish a credible and effective process to address the many cases of enforced disappearance, extrajudicial killing, torture and other serious violations. The government needs to take the international commitments it has inherited on human rights issues seriously. It needs to adopt a multi-pronged approach and go beyond focusing primarily on financial and corruption-related accountability.
Need Action
As a member of the international community, Sri Lanka has a responsibility to abide by the commitments it has made. It cannot selectively uphold international obligations postponing those that are politically difficult. Also, as a small country, Sri Lanka has a self-interest in ensuring the survival of international law, which is all that it has to protect it from the depredations of the bigger international actors. The erosion of international law by powerful states makes it all the more important that smaller states uphold the principles on which the international system is based. Sri Lanka cannot credibly appeal to international law when it is threatened from outside while disregarding its own obligations within. Sri Lanka also needs to win the confidence of its own population that it is committed to justice and equality for all. Public opinion polls and community-level research have disclosed that ethnic and religious minorities are appreciative of the sense of greater security they enjoy under the present government from ethnic or religious extremists.
But a sense of security is not the same as the fulfilment of rights. As far as the Tamil people are concerned, the government has yet to deliver on several of its specific promises. These include the long-standing problems of missing persons, the release of political prisoners who have been members of Tamil militant organisations, and the return of land taken over for military purposes during the war. The issue of Buddhist statues and archaeological sites found on their properties which are then taken from their control continue to trouble them especially as they see no signs of resolution of those disputes. The issue of pastureland in the east of the country in Mylathamadu is particularly concerning to them as they see orders by successive presidents, both President Ranil Wickremesinghe and President Anura Kumara Dissanayake, being disregarded on the ground. The Mylathamadu pastureland dispute is where traditional Tamil dairy farmers have engaged in multi-year protests against the ongoing encroachment of their ancestral grazing lands by Sinhalese crop cultivators relocated under government development schemes.
The government’s failure to hold Provincial Council elections is particularly troubling. The provincial council system is the only one that can provide the Tamil people and other ethnic minorities the opportunity to wield political power and exercise a measure of self-determination in the areas in which they are the numerical majority. The continued postponement of Provincial Council elections therefore has consequences that go beyond an ordinary electoral delay. It deprives communities of an important constitutional avenue for democratic participation and power-sharing. The ethnic and religious minorities appreciate what the government is doing in the larger national interest, but they must not be made to feel that their special concerns are being ignored. The government cannot resolve Sri Lanka’s entire legacy of rights violations overnight. But it does need to demonstrate that it is willing to move forward on multiple fronts, not only on a few.
Features
The emptying university: why are academics leaving?
by Hasini Lecamwasam
Brain drain in Sri Lanka is at an all-time high. The latest Human Flight and Brain Drain Index for 2024 shows that we are 16th of 175 countries on this count, and first in South Asia. That this is a crisis goes without saying. Brain drain affects all sectors, and is a huge strain on the resources of a developing country. Particularly in Sri Lanka, where considerable public investment is made in the moulding of professionals through the system of free education, this amounts to transferring the resources of poorer countries to richer ones with top migration destinations. It is, therefore, important to consider the push and pull factors behind skilled outmigration, specifically from the public university system of Sri Lanka, a key focus of the Kuppi column.
From frustration to exit
Several bitter realities in our crumbling public university system act as push factors in the migration decisions of academics. Many essays on this column have, over several years, attempted to highlight numerous aspects of this erosion. Perhaps, primary among them is the lack of adequate funding, which has debilitating ramifications for the system: very little investment is made in the up-keep of infrastructure (and even less in its expansion), resulting in serious constraints in accommodating growing batches of students and the wellbeing of the staff (particularly in regional universities); research funding is negligible, severely curtailing academics’ ability to effectively discharge their primary duty of teaching which should ideally be informed by their research (and the research of others, access to which is also, unfortunately, mediated by funding); a funding crunch also means a slash in (or greater constraints on) recruitments, increasing the workloads of academics, currently in service, and eating into the quality of their teaching and research.
What recruitments are done frustrate those with any faith in merit. As many of our interventions in this column have shown, recruitment processes are characterised by archaic selection criteria that place very little weight on a candidate’s postgraduate growth and the advantages of interdisciplinary training. Added to this is the general preference for ‘culturally compliant’ candidates who would not rock the boat too much. The combined effect is that those with the capacity and spirit to try out innovations in education are discouraged from joining or staying on in the public university system. Some, or many, of them may instead seek appointments abroad.
A thread that binds all of these problems together is pervasive hierarchy which, again, many interventions on this column have sought to highlight. It is the interest in preserving hierarchy that leads to the preference for alumni in recruitment processes. Hierarchy within universities can be particularly frustrating for younger faculty and women, who typically have to bear the brunt of the workload of their senior, often male, colleagues. In a context of funding, and, therefore, recruitment, restrictions, this translates into a disproportionate burden being placed on junior (usually female) faculty, seriously hindering their prospects of growing into successful academics due to the time constraints within which they have to operate. Junior academics, therefore, are more likely to look to educational institutions abroad for what they hope would be a different work culture that respects them more.
Ideological ruses
On top of these structural frustrations are also the workings of neoliberal ideology. For one, the nature of relations between the global metropole and peripheral countries like Sri Lanka largely dictates what is desirable and what is not. The apparent lifestyles of Western countries – from food to clothing, housing, appliances, and so on – have continued to lure people from the periphery with the promise of a ‘better’ life, alongside better career advancement opportunities. This, of course, masks much of the struggle that goes on behind the scenes to survive in Western societies. For instance, in most cases highly attractive public infrastructure such as roads, public transport, clean air, quality control of food, and so on belie the astronomical privatised costs of healthcare and education. Health insurance is usually mandatory and steep in most high-income settings, while even subsidised education (for which eligibility criteria are strict) creates a serious dent in household earnings. Of course, the happy images of glossy trams and gleeful international travellers don’t convey this.
A second ideological ruse is the myth of greater opportunities and recognition abroad. While there is no denying that local skilled sectors – be it higher education, health, civil service, or private white-collar positions – are replete with issues that inhibit merit-based professional advancement, the notion that things are fundamentally different in Western countries stems from an uninformed optimism. As is now increasingly known and discussed, Western labour markets are notoriously racialised, and equivalent skills are rarely treated as such. Instead, it is usually demanded that skilled migrants clear certain formal examinations in their host countries. In fields like medicine, this is followed by an interview that may also be racially prejudiced. Once these initial steps are cleared, remuneration reverts to square one irrespective of experience accumulated abroad, not to mention the many subtle aggressions, rejections, and trials one has to go through in the negotiation of everyday life. In the many cases where professional qualifications are used as leverage for a move abroad, sights are set on a better future for one’s children, which again is informed by the misplaced faith in greater opportunities and a lack of awareness of the factors outlined above. Needless to say, in the global swing to the Right, things have become even more challenging. In such a context, considering the few rare cases where skilled migrants live extremely comfortable lives as the norm becomes a dangerous misconception.
The two ideological pull factors mentioned above are complemented by a push factor, which has to do with a highly classed understanding of what a white-collar professional is due in their society. Many of these aspirations are clearly articulated in academic trade union action demanding separate quotas for school entry, increased fuel allowances, winning back the presently stalled vehicle permit scheme, salary hikes, and so on. While working people have every right to agitate for better material conditions, insofar as it remains unconnected to a broader movement for improving the conditions of the lot of the working class, it remains self-serving and very much within the class logic of capitalist society. Since these demands are articulated as a means of maintaining distinction, it is clear that they are not envisaged as part of a class movement. The frustration of not having these needs for distinction satisfied may push some to seek greener pastures abroad, at least financially, (perhaps as a means of social mobility based on it), only to be disappointed on most occasions.
What is to be done?
Addressing the systemic push factors listed above requires, first and foremost, greater allocations for free public higher education. This would immediately translate into more recruitments and less work per academic, and better research and teaching in the long haul. An increase in funding would also ideally lead to greater infrastructural investments, especially including improving the living conditions of those who work in regional universities amid untold hardships. Next, fairer, more creative, and, therefore, more effective recruitment policies are badly needed to attract talented individuals to university positions. Rather than carving out a ‘special category’ for academics to achieve this purpose, which is informed by a classed logic, this needs to be done through fundamental reforms in recruitment processes. Third, a persistent attack on the entrenched hierarchy within universities through internal reform is much called for. Reforming recruitment practices will go a long way towards addressing this. Measures should also be taken to introduce more stringent policies against SGBV (not to mention ragging, even though it is not directly connected to brain drain). Such measures would create a safer, fairer, and more attractive workplace, which would give more reasons for people to stay.
On top of greater allocations, we also need a transformation of our aspirations themselves if this situation is to change. That necessitates a kind of education capable of questioning the ‘paradise’ conception of Western societies, and lays bare their colonial material and ideological dimensions, in both their historical and contemporary manifestations. These colonial understandings of the ‘good life’, moreover, have devastating ecological implications for the planet, not to mention social justice. An education with the ability to transform this mindset would hopefully prove to be more than a mere path to social mobility, rather being a tool of social emancipation that renders mobility moot.
(Hasini Lecamwasam is with the Department of Political Science, University of Peradeniya)
Kuppi is a politics and pedagogy happening on the margins of the lecture hall that parodies, subverts, and simultaneously reaffirms social hierarchies.
Features
Friends favourite Suzi Croner returns for Oktoberfest 2026
Charming audiences in Switzerland as Suzi Flückiger, Sri Lanka’s own Suzi Croner is coming home… for a very special occasion.
The bubbly former frontline vocalist of 90s band Friends will take the stage at a popular venue in Colombo for Oktoberfest 2026.
Known in Europe for her country and classic hits, Suzi has remained a much-loved name back home. This will be a rare chance for local fans to see her live and celebrate the voice behind so many Friends memories.
Oktoberfest 2026 in Colombo promises an evening of live music, traditional Bavarian food and beer, colourful dirndls and lederhosen, folk dancing, and plenty of community cheer.

Suzi Croner (Flückiger)
Against this lively backdrop, Suzi will take the stage for a special solo set, featuring her own pre-recorded music. She performed at the event last year too, as a solo artiste, but a German band providing the music.
This year, however she says, it’s a different scene.
“The novel attraction will be the dancers from Germany — all girls, clad in German outfits,” Suzi said. She added that the event will also highlight the activities generally connected with Oktoberfest, which should generate a lot of fun and excitement for those who join her in Colombo next month.
Suzi has become a much-in-demand artiste in Europe, and has even performed Down Under, in Melbourne.
In Switzerland, where she has been based for the past 42 years, she continues to charm audiences with country and classic hits, performing at private events and community nights across Europe.
“My weekends are generally loaded with my work as a singer,” she said. “And I also play tennis three times a week, because I need to keep fit to entertain my audience in an active way.”
Her repertoire is made up mainly of Swiss, German and English songs.
And true to form, Suzi loves springing surprises.
“So watch out when you join me at Oktoberfest 2026, in Colombo!” she said.
-
Sports4 days agoDDS set to lose Test captaincy
-
News4 days agoSri Lanka faces new grid challenge as rooftop solar surges: former CEB GM
-
Latest News4 days agoShafali, Deepti power India into sixth T20 Asia Cup final
-
Latest News3 days agoSri Lanka thwart Fatima Sana challenge to secure Asia Cup final spot
-
Opinion6 days agoNavigating Sri Lanka’s Israeli Dilemma
-
Features5 days agoLost for 90 years: Rare Goby resurfaces in Jaffna
-
News2 days agoGnanasara Thero absconding after SC ruling
-
News3 days agoAmmunition cache found in old Kandy bungalow
