Features

Maashooga (meaning beloved), my housekeeper in Sindh, Pakistan

Published

1 year ago

2024/11/17

Thilina Walpola

Jayantha P (left) and Maashooga

by Jayantha Perera

A young man was waiting at the wide-open gate of the university guest bungalow. The driver drove the van through the gate to the back foyer. The young man recognised Parvez, who was with me and smiled. When Parvez introduced me to him, he shook my hand and pronounced my name correctly. Parvez introduced him as Maashooga and smiled. He said Maashooga means ‘darling’ or ‘beloved.’ He was a charming young man, about six feet two inches tall, with a light moustache and penetrating eyes. His long hair partially covered his face, which had a few pimples. I thought he was in his early twenties. He wore a salwar kameez and a colourful Sindhi cap decorated with beads and threads. He looked like a polio victim as his right leg was about two inches shorter than his left leg.

Maashooga carried my suitcase to the master bedroom. It had been recently painted and had a brand-new air conditioner. The spacious bathroom had hot and cold water. The bed was large, and a new floral woollen blanket covered it. The room had two panels of large windows. I could see mango trees and several flower beds without any plants through the windows.

Parvez talked to Maashooga in Sindhi and left me at the bungalow, promising to visit me in the evening. I tried to speak to Maashooga; he knew very little English but understood me and responded. Maashooga wanted to prepare chapati, subji (vegetables) and mutton curry for dinner. He asked me whether I eat ‘double roti’ (bread)?’ I told him I like chapati. He understood and nodded with a smile. This was the beginning of our communication, which would later lead to a better understanding of each other’s culture and personality.

I slept two hours, and when I got up, the sun was setting. A cool breeze engulfed me in the large foyer of the bungalow. The front garden was a small mango orchard. The bungalow had a spacious sitting area, a wood-panelled office room and three bedrooms. Maashooga emerged from the kitchen with a hot cup of tea and a few biscuits on a wooden tray. He waited until I drank the tea and showed me the gate, indicating that I should go for a walk. The cool breeze and the lengthening shadows of the children playing cricket on the dirt road in front of the bungalow lifted my spirit.

The Director and several SDSC colleagues visited me in the late evening. Maashooga produced six half-pint bottles of Murray beer for the visitors! He sat on the floor, carefully poured cold beer into six glasses in equal measure and waited to serve the second round. When the six bottles of beer were consumed, my colleagues stopped the conversation. They left the bungalow, promising to revisit me often.

Maashooga served my dinner at 8 pm, and it was tasty. He held each chapati over the gas flame until it was cooked and looked like a balloon. He waited at the dining table until I had my dinner. He said I should buy a big-screen TV to watch Hindi movies. Then, he went to the kitchen, sat on the floor and ate a few chapatis. He gave several chapatis and a bowl of curry to the chowkidar (watchman) of the bungalow, who sat under a tree in the backyard. The chowkidar saluted me when he saw me and said, “Sir, I am your university guard.”

The following morning, I had the best breakfast I ever had. Maashooga prepared an authentic Sindhi breakfast – parathas (unleavened bread) with a generous spread of ghee on top of them, deep-fried bindi (okra) and slices of fried Panna (local salmon). After breakfast, he took me to a grocery shop across the main road. He introduced me to the shopkeeper, who was happy to have me as his new customer. As I browsed through the aisles, I felt a sense of discovery, finding new and unfamiliar items. I bought soap, shampoo, sugar, double roti, garam masala, lentils, salt, and basmati rice. The manager recorded the transaction in a ledger and told me to pay him at the end of each month.

In the evening, Maashooga showed me the university campus and the settlement where he lived. The campus was large and well-maintained. Beyond its boundary walls, I could see the desert I had seen earlier, spreading limitlessly to the dusty horizon. Maashooga’s brother, the van driver who drove me to Jamshoro from Karachi, was waiting for us. He invited me for a cup of tea. They did not have a chair for me to sit on. I sat on a log. I understood that Maashooga lived with his mother, brother, and brother’s family. Their house was just a hut, and the entire settlement looked like an overcrowded slum encroaching on the university park.

One evening, while having dinner, I heard several gunshots nearby. Maashooga got excited, grabbed me by my arm, and took me to the bungalow’s backyard. He asked me to climb over the boundary wall to the neighbour’s garden. I hesitated. I could have climbed the wall but was scared to jump onto a stranger’s land. He understood my predicament and took me back to the bungalow. Parvez visited me later to tell me that a group of dacoits (armed robbers) had tried to abduct two doctors from the hospital, but university security guards foiled their attempt. He instructed Maashooga to make a step ladder, which I could use to climb the wall in an emergency. He told me that my neighbour was a university professor and promised to get his permission to keep a raised platform in his garden so I could escape in an emergency through his garden.

Three months later, I collected the Land Cruiser jeep, my official vehicle, from the Karachi Customs Office and moved with Maashooga to my apartment in Hyderabad. I was happy as the apartment was in a gated community in a high-end residential area. The apartment was two-storied with five bedrooms and ample space for a front garden. I boiled milk in a new aluminium pot in the sitting area, following the traditions of Sri Lanka. I watched happily when boiled milk overflowed in all directions. I thought it was a good omen.

In the afternoon, Maashooga and I shopped to buy a TV, radio, cleaning material, cutlery, and crockery for the new apartment. He was very proud to oversee a big house. When I assigned him a room, he told me he would sleep on the rooftop during the summer and autumn. I bought him a charpoy (light bed), and he kept it on the rooftop. One night, I went with him upstairs and was mesmerised by the clear sky, cool breeze, and total darkness. One could gaze into the universe for hours; only an occasional shooting star might disturb one’s trance.

One night, Maashooga came down from the rooftop, wholly covered with dust. I could not recognise him and thought a ghost was visiting me! White dust covered his face and hair. He started laughing. That night, a nasty dust storm had hit the area, covering everything with dust. Dust looked like ash and clung to anything. Maashooga took about two hours to remove the dust from his body, especially from his thick, curly hair.

When I returned to Hyderabad after my home leave, I was delighted to see a beautiful garden in front of the apartment. Maashooga had planted cannas of different colours and several red rose plants. But I was shocked when I went up to my bedroom. It was a mess. Thousands of tiny beads were strewn everywhere with different coloured yarns and long needles. My bedsheets and pillows were dirty. My toilet was messy and smelly. Maashooga came upstairs with a cup of tea. I asked him why he had used my bedroom and bathroom.

He smiled and said he watched TV while weaving Sindhi caps and garlands on my bed. He showed me two exquisite Sindhi caps he had woven for me. I asked him to change the bedsheets and pillowcases and clean the bathroom, which he did diligently. He did not come up to watch TV for a few days. When I invited him to watch TV, he did not bring beads and threads to my room or sit on my bed. He smiled and told me not to tell anybody about his “bad work.”

One day, he wanted to go with me to the old fort in Hyderabad. We took a public bus to the city and walked 30 minutes to reach the entrance of the Pakka Qilla Fort, an 18^th-century structure. I was amazed to see thousands of people moving in the fort. There were small cubicle-type rooms and houses. Residences could not be distinguished from shops. We walked to the interior of the fort. But we could not go far because thousands were walking on narrow roads or flocking to small business places. Maashooga knew some people at the fort, and we had tea with them. He brought six Sindhi caps for his friends. When I told my SDSC colleagues about my visit to the fort, they were dismayed. They said that the fort was notorious for sudden clashes among militant groups. Being a foreigner, I could have become a target for abduction.

At the periphery of Hyderabad city, there was a private hospital known as the American Hospital. Three Sri Lankan Catholic nuns ran it. It was well-known for its excellent patient care. Several Catholic organisations in the USA supported it by supplying free medicine and equipment and sending specialists on short-term visits. Every year, the hospital trains about 100 young rural women in midwifery. After the training, they returned to their villages as dais (midwives) to serve their communities.

I discussed with the hospital’s mother superior the possibility of correcting Maashooga’s polio-affected leg. At that time, a well-known American orthopaedic consultant was visiting the hospital. After examining Maashooga’s leg, he told me that the length of the twisted short leg could be adjusted by surgery. He explained that at least 1.5 inches could be regained after resetting his ankle bones, leg ligaments, tendons, and affected leg muscles. It was good news. The surgery would cost about US$ 800. The sisters agreed to give Maasooga a room and food at the hospital free of charge. I wrote to my supervisor in the UK requesting him to contribute. He sent $500 as a contribution.

The nuns contacted a surgeon in Karachi and fixed a date for the surgery at the American Hospital. Maashooga’s brother told me that his mother was distraught but respected my decision on the surgery. I consoled and assured him that the surgery would not harm Maashooga but enable him to walk without much limping. He asked me to sign the declaration as Maashooga’s guardian.

After the operation, Maashooga and his family brought sweets to thank me. His brother told me he could not have even dreamt of his brother’s leg recovery. I took them to the hospital to meet the nuns and the medical staff. We all enjoyed the sweets Maashooga’s mother had brought as we basked in a glorious sunset in the hospital compound.

Maashooga started cycling regularly to regain the strength of his legs. Six months later, the surgeon checked his leg and told me the surgery was successful, although the leg was about ½ inch short. Maashooga was happy with his new appearance. I bought him a pair of orthopaedic sandals to correct the length of the leg.

Soon after the northeast monsoons, Maashooga’s brother invited me to Maashooga’s wedding. I was happy but surprised. He had never mentioned his wedding plan to me. I asked him about the wedding after his brother had left. He just coyly smiled and went away. His brother borrowed money from me and promised to repay the loan over two years. The wedding was a grand affair. There were two separate tents for men and women, and about 80 invitees attended the wedding.

The bride was a young woman with a pretty face and dark complexion. She was in a saree draped in Sindhi style and wore some head jewellery linked to her nose by a gold chain. She was with her parents and never raised her head during the wedding ceremony. All those who attended the ceremony stayed for lunch. Lunch was served at 2 pm when mutton biriyani in giant cauldrons were brought in. Two elders served food first to the men. Women waited patiently in their tent for their turn to get biriyani. After lunch, young men and women danced separately and sang Sindhi songs until the evening.

Maashooga did not turn up at the apartment for three days after his wedding. He had arranged for one of his colleagues to prepare my food in his absence. Maashooga returned on the fourth day as if nothing had happened in his life. He smiled and started house cleaning and cooking. I told him he could go home after preparing my dinner early. He said he would stay at the apartment and go home to his wife for one night on Fridays. I increased his salary by 50 per cent so he would have enough money for himself and his wife. I tried to talk to him about his new life. Still, Maashooga was reluctant to engage in a conversation on the topic. On several occasions, he brought some sweets prepared by his wife. I watched him, and I thought he was happy. I also thought he was too shy to discuss his wife and family matters.

One early morning, Maashooga’s brother informed me that Maashooga’s wife had died while giving birth to twins. Maashooga had never mentioned to me that his wife was pregnant. I went to his hut where the body of the wife was. I looked for Maashooga and found him helping several women in preparing tea. At 11am, the body was buried at the public cemetery. Maashooga stood next to me with a blank and pensive look on his face. He looked tired and confused. He watched the rituals and the closing of the grave. At that point, he rested his left elbow on my right shoulder. He shivered briefly and told me, “We go to Hyderabad.” His brother told him to take me to their home for lunch before going to my apartment.

Maashooga continued to be with me and never discussed his wife’s death and the loss of two sons. He stopped going home on Fridays. Instead, he paid more attention to his flower beds in the front garden. He stopped playing football. I heard from his brother that Maashooga had assaulted two men in the village over an argument. He started sleeping on the rooftop and doing his favourite hobby – weaving Sindhi caps. I found him asleep several times with beads and threads on his lap. He lost weight and looked depressed.

I consulted the nuns at the American Hospital. They said that he needed counselling, and the hospital could get a therapist. They cautioned me that his relatives might interpret such therapy as a way of converting young people to Christianity. He attended several sessions at the hospital. I dropped him and collected him from the hospital. The nuns told me he had shown good progress in returning to everyday life.

When I left Sindh in 1996, after living in Hyderabad for five years, Maashooga came to the airport to see me off. He had never been to Karachi. His brother drove us to the airport, and we stopped for tea at a roadside kiosk. While tea was prepared, I walked around the kiosk. Suddenly, I remembered my arrival in Jamshoro from Karachi. Then, I had thought I would not survive five years in a desert. But now, sand dunes and the blurred horizon looked enchanting. I felt sad to leave Jamshoro. Maashooga held his brother’s hand and cried. His brother explained that Maashooga was very sad to see my departure. He wanted to know whether I would return to Jamshoro. I did not have the guts to tell him that I might not. I wondered whether I would ever see him again.

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Features

A life in colour and song: Rajika Gamage’s new bird guide captures Sri Lanka’s avian soul

Published

13 hours ago

2026/03/2

Sahan Weerasooriya

Sri Lanka wakes each morning to wings.

From the liquid whistle of a magpie robin in a garden hedge to the distant circling silhouette of an eagle above a forest canopy, birds define the rhythm of the island’s days.

Their colours ignite the imagination; their calls stir memory; their presence offers reassurance that nature still breathes alongside humanity. For conservation biologist Rajika Gamage, these winged lives are more than fleeting beauty—they are a lifelong calling.

Now, after years of patient observation, artistic collaboration, and scientific dedication, Gamage’s latest book, An Illustrated Field Guide to the Fauna of Sri Lanka – Birds, is set to reach readers when it hits the market on March 6.

The new edition promises to become one of the most comprehensive and visually rich bird guides ever produced for Sri Lanka.

Speaking to The Island, Gamage reflected on the inspiration behind his work and the enduring fascination birds hold for people across the country.

“Birds are an incredibly diverse group,” he said. “Their bright colours, distinct songs and calls, and showy displays contribute to their uniqueness, which is appreciated by all bird-loving individuals.”

Birds, he explained, occupy a special place in the natural world because they are among the most visible forms of wildlife. Unlike elusive mammals or secretive reptiles, birds share human spaces openly.

“Birds are widely distributed in all parts of the globe in large enough populations, making them the most common wildlife around human habitations,” Gamage said. “This offers a unique opportunity for observing and monitoring their diverse plumage and behaviours for conservation and recreational purposes.”

This accessibility has made birdwatching one of the most popular forms of wildlife observation in Sri Lanka, attracting everyone from seasoned scientists to curious schoolchildren.

A remarkable island of avian diversity

Despite its small size, Sri Lanka possesses extraordinary bird diversity.

According to Gamage, the country’s geographic position, varied climate, and diverse habitats—from coastal wetlands and rainforests to montane cloud forests and dry-zone scrublands—have created ideal conditions for birdlife.

“Sri Lanka is home to a rich diversity of birdlife, with a total of 522 bird species recorded in the country,” he said. “These species are spread across 23 orders, 89 families, and 267 genera.”

Of these, 478 species have been fully confirmed. Among them, 209 are breeding residents, meaning they live and reproduce on the island throughout the year.

Even more remarkable is Sri Lanka’s high level of endemism.

“Thirty-five of these breeding resident species are endemic to Sri Lanka,” Gamage noted. “They are confined entirely to the island, making them globally significant.”

These endemic species—from forest-dwelling flycatchers to vividly coloured barbets—represent evolutionary lineages shaped by Sri Lanka’s long geological isolation and ecological uniqueness.

In addition to resident birds, Sri Lanka also serves as a seasonal refuge for migratory species traveling thousands of kilometres.

“There are regular migrants that arrive annually, as well as irregular migrants that visit less predictably,” Gamage explained. “Vagrants, birds that appear outside their typical migratory routes, have also been spotted occasionally.”

Such unexpected visitors often generate excitement among birdwatchers and scientists alike, providing valuable insights into migration patterns and environmental change.

Rajika Gamage

A guide born from passion and necessity

The new field guide represents the culmination of years of research and builds upon Gamage’s earlier publication, which was released in 2017.

“The stimulus for this bird guide was due to the success of my first book,” he said. “This new edition aims to facilitate identification and provide an idea of what to look for in observed habitats or regions.”

The book is designed not merely as a scientific reference but as an accessible companion for anyone interested in birds. Its structure reflects this dual purpose.

“The first section is dedicated to the introduction, geography, and life history of Sri Lankan birds,” Gamage explained. “The second section is the main body of the guide, which illustrates 532 species of birds.”

Each illustration has been carefully crafted in colour to capture the distinctive plumage of each species.

“All illustrations are designed to show each bird’s significant and distinct plumage,” he said. “Where possible, the breeding, non-breeding, and juvenile plumages are provided.”

This attention to detail is especially important because many birds change appearance as they mature.

“Some groups, especially gulls, display many plumages between juveniles and adults,” Gamage noted. “Many take several years to develop full adult plumage and pass through semi-adult stages.”

By illustrating these stages, the guide helps birdwatchers avoid misidentification and deepen their understanding of avian development.

New discoveries and evolving science

One of the most exciting aspects of the new edition is its inclusion of newly recorded species and updated scientific classifications.

“Changes in the bird list of Sri Lanka, especially newly added endemic birds such as the Sri Lankan Shama, Sri Lanka Lesser Flameback, and Greater Flameback, are now included,” Gamage said.

Scientific names and classifications are not static; they evolve as researchers learn more about genetic relationships and species boundaries. The guide reflects these changes, ensuring it remains scientifically current.

The book also incorporates conservation status information based on the latest National Red Data Report and global assessments.

“The conservation status of Sri Lankan birds, as listed in the 2022 National Red Data Report and the global Red Data Report, are included,” Gamage said.

This information is vital for conservation planning and public awareness, highlighting which species face the greatest risk of extinction.

The guide also documents rare and accidental visitors, including species such as the Blue-and-white Flycatcher, Rufous-tailed Rock-thrush, and European Honey-buzzard.

“These represent accidental visitors and newly recorded vagrants,” Gamage said. “Altogether, the first edition offers some 25 additional species, all illustrated.”

Art and science in harmony

Unlike many field guides that rely heavily on photographs, Gamage’s book emphasises detailed illustrations. This choice reflects the unique advantages of scientific art.

Illustrations can emphasise diagnostic features, eliminate distracting backgrounds, and present birds in standardised poses, making identification easier.

“The principal birds on each page are painted to a standard scale,” Gamage explained. “Flight and behavioural sketches are shown at smaller scales.”

The guide also includes descriptions of habitats, distribution, nesting behaviour, and alternative names in English, Sinhala, and Tamil.

“The majority of birds have more than one English, Sinhala, and Tamil name,” he said. “All of these are included.”

This multilingual approach reflects Sri Lanka’s cultural diversity and ensures the guide is accessible to a wider audience.

A tool for conservation and connection

Beyond its scientific value, Gamage believes the book serves a deeper purpose: strengthening the bond between people and nature.

By helping readers identify birds and understand their lives, the guide fosters appreciation and responsibility.

“This field guide aims to facilitate identification and provide a general introduction to birds,” he said.

In an era of rapid environmental change, such knowledge is essential. Habitat loss, climate change, and human activity continue to threaten bird populations worldwide, including in Sri Lanka.

Yet birds also offer hope.

Their presence in gardens, wetlands, and forests reminds people of nature’s resilience—and their own role in protecting it.

Gamage hopes the guide will inspire both seasoned ornithologists and beginners alike.

“All these changes will make An Illustrated Field Guide to the Fauna of Sri Lanka – Birds one of the most comprehensive and accurate guides available within Sri Lanka,” he said.

A lifelong devotion takes flight

For Rajika Gamage, birds are not merely subjects of study—they are companions in a lifelong journey of discovery.

Each call heard at dawn, each silhouette glimpsed against the sky, each feathered visitor from distant lands reinforces the wonder that first drew him to ornithology.

With the release of his new book on March 6, that wonder will now be shared more widely than ever before.

In its pages, readers will find not only identification keys and scientific facts, but also something more enduring—the story of an island, told through wings, colour, and song.

By Ifham Nizam

Features

Letting go: A Buddhist perspective

Published

13 hours ago

2026/03/2

Sahan Weerasooriya

The Buddha

Buddhism, one of the world’s oldest religions, offers profound insights into the nature of existence and the ways we can alleviate our suffering. As one of the world’s most profound spiritual traditions, it offers a transformative solution: the art of letting go. Unlike simply losing interest in things or giving up, letting go in Buddhism is about liberation, releasing ourselves from the chain of attachment that prevents us from experiencing true peace and happiness. Letting go is a profound philosophical concept in Buddhism, deeply intertwined with an understanding of suffering, attachment, and the nature of reality. This philosophy encourages us to release our grip on desires, attachments, and on what we hold dear- whether relationships, material goods, or even their identities, ultimately leading to greater peace and enlightenment. Our tendency to cling tightly to the various aspects of life leads to a significant source of stress. We tend to grasp at things, perceiving them as solid and permanent, yet much of what we hold onto is transient and subject to change. This mistaken belief in permanence can trap us in cycles of worry, fear, and anxiety.

The challenge of letting go is especially evident during difficult periods in life. We may find ourselves ruminating over lost opportunities, failed relationships, and unmet expectations. Such thoughts can keep us ensnared in emotions like hurt, guilt, and shame, hindering our ability to move forward. By holding onto the past, we often prevent ourselves from embracing the present and future.

At the heart of Buddhist practice lies the concept of letting go, often encapsulated in the term “non-attachment.” Letting go is a crucial concept in both Buddhism and Christianity, emphasising the release of attachments that bind us and contribute to our suffering. At its core, letting go is about finding freedom from desires and acknowledging that both relationships and material possessions are fleeting and transient.

In Buddhism, letting go, or non-attachment, is fundamental for achieving inner peace. The First Noble Truth acknowledges that life is filled with suffering, often rooted in our cravings and attachment to things. The Second Noble Truth teaches that by letting go of this craving, we can transcend the cycles of life and attain enlightenment.

Spiritually, Buddhism emphasises the impermanence of all things (annica). We tend to cling to people, experiences, and even our identities, but everything is fleeting. Recogniing this helps us appreciate the present moment and fosters compassion. Instead of allowing attachments to cloud our relationships, letting go encourages us to engage with others without judgment or expectation, fostering deeper connections.

Philosophically, Buddhism challenges the notion of a permanent self (anatta) that is often the focus of human attachment. It teaches that our identity is not a fixed entity but a collection of experiences and perceptions in constant flux. Understanding this can help us see the futility of clinging to desires and identities, paving the way for a liberated state of being built on wisdom cultivated through meditation and mindfulness.

From a psychological standpoint, letting go can significantly improve our emotional health and well-being. Attachment often breeds fear, anxiety, and stress, while non-attachment promotes resilience and adaptability. When we embrace the idea of impermanence, we become more capable of handling life’s challenges without being overwhelmed. Mindfulness—being present and accepting our emotions without judgment—allows us to process difficult feelings constructively, making it easier to let go of what we cannot control.

Letting go is also an essential concept in Christianity, which emphasises surrender and trust in God. Biblical teachings encourage believers to let go of worries and anxieties, placing their faith in divine providence. For instance, verses like Matthew 6:34 remind individuals not to be anxious about tomorrow, but to focus on the present. By surrendering our burdens to God, we find peace and freedom from the weight of excessive attachment.

Moreover, both traditions highlight the importance of community. In Buddhism, the sangha, or community of practitioners, supports individuals on their journeys toward non-attachment. Similarly, the Christian community encourages believers to lean on one another for support, fostering a sense of belonging and shared faith that helps mitigate the loneliness that comes with attachment.

Ultimately, the concept of letting go serves as a powerful antidote to suffering in both Buddhism and Christianity. By embracing impermanence, cultivating wisdom, and practising mindfulness or faith, individuals can experience profound liberation. In our chaotic world, the principles of letting go offer a clear path toward inner peace, fulfilment, and deeper connections with ourselves, others, and the divine.

Buddhism explores the profound concept of letting go, providing valuable insights into the human experience and pathways to alleviating suffering. Rooted in one of the world’s oldest spiritual traditions, Buddhism presents letting go as a transformative practice, distinct from mere disengagement or giving up. Instead, it encompasses liberation from the chains of attachment that hinder us from experiencing genuine peace and happiness. Christianity too explore this profound concept in its teachings

At the core of Buddhist philosophy lies the idea of non-attachment, which encourages individuals to free themselves from desires and possessions, ultimately leading to tranquility and enlightenment. Letting go is intertwined with an understanding of suffering, attachment, and the transient nature of existence. This philosophy instructs us to relinquish our grip on what we hold dear—whether relationships, material goods, or even our identities—recognising that these are impermanent.

Buddhism’s First Noble Truth acknowledges that life inherently involves suffering, often stemming from our cravings and attachments. The Second Noble Truth reveals that overcoming this craving is key to transcending the cycles of life and achieving enlightenment. Emphasising the impermanence of all things, Buddhism invites us to appreciate the present moment and fosters compassion by helping us detach from fixed identities and experiences. This awareness enriches our relationships, allowing us to connect with others free from judgment or expectation.

Philosophically, Buddhism challenges the notion of a static self (anatta), asserting that our identity is not a fixed concept but rather a fluid collection of experiences. Recognising this notion helps highlight the futility of clinging to desires and identities, opening the door to a liberated existence founded on wisdom cultivated through meditation and mindfulness practices.

From a psychological perspective, the act of letting go can significantly enhance emotional health and well-being. Attachment often fuels fear, anxiety, and stress, while embracing non-attachment cultivates resilience and adaptability. By accepting impermanence, we equip ourselves to face life’s challenges with greater ease. Practicing mindfulness—being present and accepting emotions without judgment—further facilitates the process of releasing what is beyond our control.

In Christianity, the theme of letting go is also prominent, emphasizing surrender and trust in God. Scripture encourages believers to release their worries and anxieties by placing their faith in divine providence. For example, Matthew 6:34 advises individuals to focus on the present rather than fret over the future. By surrendering our burdens to God, we can experience relief from the weight of excessive attachment.

Both traditions underscore the significance of community in supporting the journey of letting go. In Buddhism, the sangha, or community of practitioners, encourages the pursuit of non-attachment. Likewise, Christian fellowship fosters belonging and shared faith, helping believers lean on one another for strength and mitigating the loneliness that can arise from attachment.

Ultimately, the concept of letting go serves as a powerful antidote to suffering in both Buddhism and Christianity. Embracing impermanence, nurturing wisdom, and practising mindfulness or trust can lead individuals toward profound liberation. In an increasingly chaotic world, the principles of letting go illuminate a pathway to inner peace, fulfilment, and deeper connections with ourselves, others, and the divine. By understanding and embodying this philosophy, we can navigate life’s complexities with grace and openness.////Buddhism delves into the profound concept of letting go, offering valuable insights into the human experience and pathways to alleviating suffering. As one of the world’s oldest spiritual traditions, Buddhism presents letting go as a transformative practice that goes beyond mere disengagement or resignation. It represents liberation from the chains of attachment that prevent us from experiencing true peace and happiness. Similarly, Christianity explores this profound concept in its teachings.

At the heart of Buddhist philosophy is the idea of non-attachment, which encourages individuals to free themselves from desires and possessions, ultimately leading to tranquility and enlightenment. Letting go is closely related to an understanding of suffering, attachment, and the impermanent nature of existence. This philosophy guides us to loosen our hold on what we cherish—be it relationships, material possessions, or even our own identities—recognizing that everything is transient. Through this understanding, we can cultivate a deeper sense of peace and fulfillment in our lives.

BY Dr. Justice Chandradasa Nanayakkara

Features

Brilliant Navy officer no more

Published

13 hours ago

2026/03/2

Sahan Weerasooriya

Bandi (R) with the writer on his retirement day in 2016)

Rear Admiral Udaya Bandara, VSV, USP (retired)

This incident happened in 2006 when I was the Director Naval Operations, Special Forces and Maritime Surveillance under then Commander of the Navy Vice Admiral Wasantha Karannagoda. Udaya (fondly known as Bandi) was a trusted Naval Assistant (NA) to the Commander.

We were going through a very hard time fighting the LTTE Sea Tigers’ explosive-laden suicide boats that our Fast Attack Craft (s) and elite SBS’ Arrow Boats encountered in our littoral sea battles.

Brilliant Marine Engineer Commander (then) Chaminda Dissanayake, who was known for his “out of the box” thinking and superior technical skills on research and development, met me at my office at Naval Headquarters and showed me a blueprint of an explosive- laden remotely controlled small boat.

Udaya’s Naval Assistant’s office was next to mine, the Director Naval Operations office. Both places are very close to the Navy Commander’s office. I walked into Bandi’s office with Commander Dissa and showed this blueprint a brilliant idea. Being a Marine Engineer “par excellence”, Bandi immediately understood the great design. I urged him to brief the Commander of the Navy with Commander Dissa.

My burden was over! Bandi took over the project and within a few weeks we tested our first prototype “Explosive-laden Remotely Controlled arrow boat “at sea off Coral Cove in the Naval Base Trincomalee. It was a complete success.

This remotely controlled boats went out to sea with our SBS arrow boats fleet and had devastating effects against LTTE suicide boats and their small boats fleet. Thanks, Bandi, for your contribution. The present-day Admiral of the Fleet used to tell us during those days “you cannot buy a Navy – you have to build one”!

We built our own small boats squadrons at our boat yards in Welisara and Trincomalee to bring LTTE Sea Tigers. The Special Boats Squadron (SBS) and rapid action boats squadron (RABS) being so useful with remotely controlled explosive-laden arrow boats to win sea battles convincingly.

Bandi used to say, “Navy is a technical service and we should give ALL SRI LANKA NAVY OFFICERS FIRST A TECHNICAL DEGREE AT OUR ACADEMY (BTec degree).” That idea did not receive much attention here, but the Indian Navy—Bandi graduated as a Marine Engineer- at Indian Navy Engineering College SLNS Shivaji in Lonavala, Pune, India— understood this idea well over two decades ago. Indian Navy Commissioned their new Naval Academy at Ezhimala (in Kerala State) which is the largest Naval Academy in Asia (Campus covers area of 2,452 acres) starts its Naval officers training with a BTech degree, regardless of what branch of the navy one joined.

Bandi’s technical expertise was not limited to SLN. He was the pioneer of “Mini – Hydro Power projects” in Sri Lanka. When I was a young officer, he urged me to invest some money in one of these projects and advised me “Sir! as long as water flows through turbines, you will get money from the CEB, which is always short of electricity”. I regret that I did not heed Bandi’s advice.

When he worked under me when I was Commander Southern Naval Area, as my senior Technical Officer, I observed pencil marks on walls of his chalet and I inquired from him what they were. He said it was the result of his “pencil shooting training”, a drill Practical Pistol Firers do to improve their skills. He used to practice “draw and fire” drills and pencil shooting drills late into nights to be a good Practical Pistol firer in Sri Lanka Navy team. He didn’t stop at that. He represented Sri Lanka National Practical Pistol Firing team and won International Championships.

As the Officer in charge of Technical Training in the Navy, he worked as Training Commander to train Royal Oman Navy Engineering Artificers in Sri Lanka, especially on Fast Attack Craft Main Engine Overhauls. The Royal Oman Navy Commander was so impressed with the knowledge acquired by Artificers that he donated money for the construction of a four-storey accommodation building for Sri Lanka Navy Naval and Maritime Academy, Trincomalee now known as “Oman Building”. The credit for this project should go to Bandi.

Bandi’s wife was a senior Judge of Kegalle High Court, and she retired a few years ago. Their only child, a son studied at the British School, Colombo and followed in his mother’s footsteps became a lawyer. Bandi was so much attached to his family and very proud of his son’s accomplishments.

When Bandi was due to retire in 2016 as a Rear Admiral and Director General Training, after distinguished service of 34 years, and reaching retirement age of 55 years, I requested him to serve for some more years after mobilising him into our Naval Reserve Force. He had other plans. He wanted to take his mini-Hydro Power projects to East African countries.

His demise after a very brief illness at age of 64 years was a shock to his family and friends. His funeral was held on Feb. 27 with Full Military Honors befitting a Rear Admiral at his home town Aranayake.

Dear Bandi, the beautiful Sri Lanka Navy, Naval and Maritime Academy in Trincomalee, which was built with your efforts will serve for Sri Lanka Navy Officer Trainees and sailors for a very long time and remember you forever.

May dear Bandi attain the supreme bliss of Nirvana!

Naval and Maritime Academy, Trincomalee

By Admiral Ravindra C Wijegunaratne
WV, RWP and Bar, RSP, VSV, USP, NI (M) (Pakistan), ndc, psn, Bsc
(Hons) (War Studies) (Karachi) MPhil (Madras)
Former Navy Commander and Former Chief of Defence Staff
Former Chairman, Trincomalee Petroleum Terminals Ltd,
Former Managing Director Ceylon Petroleum Corporation,
Former High Commissioner to Pakistan