Features
TWO AGELESS AND SPIRITUAL TREES IN THE VILLAGE TANK
Agbo the Tusker, named after nine kings with the same name and presently celebrated as royalty among wild elephants in Sri Lanka, limps as he inches towards the rank grove of Nabada (Vitex leucoxylon) and Kumbuk (Terminalia arjuna) trees seeking shade at the upper section of the Ulagalla tank near Tirappane, in the North Central Province. The much adored and, sadly, injured elephant has chosen this tank and the surrounding area to live alone to escape pestering from macho elephants who stray out from Kalaweva and Mahakanadarawa Forest Reserves.
Hoping to rest, he stops under a large and ailing Nabada tree. Shapeless openings in its midsection show it is hollow. As I shall recount later, according to Sri Lankan history books, a similar tree growing in water at the Doramadalawa tank (Dwaramandalaka in Mahawansa), approximately 20 kilometers north of here, once had royal contact, literally, saving future King Pandukabhaya from certain death when he was still a boyish prince.
I suggest this tree is the Nabada, for no other tree with holes and a tunneled trunk big enough for a boy to hide grows in water in a dry zone tank. The other tree in the grove, the Kumbuk, carries the credentials of being a spiritual tree, as depicted in Buddhist literature.
Unlike the mother of all Sri Lankan trees – the Sri Maha Bodhi Tree (Ficus religiosa) about which written volumes, nothing significant has been recorded about the Nabada and its companion Kumbuk, two large and unassuming trees standing at odd intervals like deformed Doric columns in and around the village tanks, temples of prosperity in the Dry Zone. They also do not possess the pedigree and vanity of showier trees, such as ebony and mahogany in Sri Lanka, or the stately 4,856-year-old Bristlecone pine tree named Methuselah, still surviving in the Eastern California desert. But Nabada and Kumbuk trees are the inseparable violin and the viola in the symphony which I call the part and parcel of the village tank.
The Village Tank is a book of poetry that nurtures fascination and imagination. The two trees in this narrative double this magic by refreshing the equity and appeal surrounding this core asset of the village. As much as it is a repository for lifesaving water for the villagers, the tank hosts an ambiance of beauty rarely surpassed by any other aspect of the village. A part of this setting is the vegetation that abounds in it, both in dry and wet seasons. Nabada and Kumbuk trees lead this parade.
Blood relatives of Nabada and Kumbuk trees grew on the ephemeral stream long before villagers dammed it up, some probably centuries ago, in a process called gambendeema. When the dammed area was inundated, most trees and shrubs trapped in the deluge drowned, leaving their dead branches like skeletons of dinosaurs sticking out in a pond. Nabada and Kumbuk trees, loaded with DNA ready for amphibious life, refused to die and continued to thrive in this new setting.
A Nabada tree will live for hundreds of years. As it grows old, its pith dissolves away, but it still retains enough muscle to hold it standing. A grove of such old and faded trees may give the tank a primitive expression. Some trees refused to move to the water’s edge and remained in the middle like the one Pandukabhaya dived to hide.
They nevertheless hold the Primus position growing on the bund and the tank’s upper reach, called gasgommana or wev-thavulla which are essential ecotones in the larger tank environment. They also grow in the marshy area called kattakaduwa, between paddy fields and homesites called gammedda, and in elangawa, a free-standing forest between two tanks in a cascade of tanks.
Nabada Tree in History
Nabada tree is the ‘elephant in the tank.’ No one notices it out there, right in the open. These trees stand like illustrations of unknown monster animals drawn in ancient maps by medieval cartographers to fill uncharted regions in world. Monsters or not, a verdant mass of green, this tree is there, providing breeding grounds for fish when the tank is full to the brim, and a shady haven for cattle to rest when metallic heat of the unforgiving sun punishes the dusty tank bed during hot months.
The Nabada tree grows in the village tank like an outcast. In a way, it is a good thing. Unlike the Kumbuk tree, which has become a victim of homebuilders who dismantle it to build flavoured steps to reach upstairs rooms, the Nabada tree has never found favor in this convenient therapy in homes or horticulture business in modern times along the borders of expressways.
Genealogic itinerary of these two trees run back in history. Thus, the influence and association of them on villagers’ lives are more pronounced than one thinks. For example, these trees became part of the village nomenclature, showing an instance of interesting footnote in our colonial history.
Until the 19th century, many present-day village tanks had been abandoned, nameless, or derelict. Then, a group of pioneer families looking for a new settlement would descend to such a place and restore the ruined dam through a communal custom called gambendeema.
At the time of entering the details of this project into government records in the early colonial irrigation department, clerks or technical officers, who were mainly Tamils and well-versed in English but less proficient in Sinhala, assigned names to identify these settlements using Tamil words for convenience. These words represented the physical or forestry features found in and around the immediate surroundings of the village. Thus, Nochchikulama, just a kilometer from my village, or Nabadawewa, is an eponym of the Nabada tree. In Tamil, Nochi is Nabada, and Kulam is wewa. Unsurprisingly, even today, Nochchikulama has over a dozen Nabada trees in its tank.
As a side note, as early as 1816, on the Jaffna Peninsula, there were over 600 students enrolled in Wesleyan missionary schools, learning English. Understandably, they got jobs to advance emerging irrigation projects of colonial administration in the Northern Province, which included all the NCP until 1873.
The Sri Lankan chronicle Mahawansa records that Prince Pandukabhaya, who later became the king and ruled Sri Lanka from 307 to 377 BC, was seven years old and in exile in the village of Doramadalawa (Dwaramandalaka in Mahawansa) near Mihintale for fear of being killed by his uncles, who were eyeing the throne in nearby Anuradhapura. One day, while swimming with friends in the village tank, he saw a band of assassins approaching them with swords drawn.
He grabbed his clothes, dived underwater, and headed straight to the hollow section in a tree growing in the water not far from the mankada. He hid there for a while and came out only after the killers had left, thinking that all the boys, including the prince, had been killed, because there were no additional sets of clothes found on the tank bund.
Kumbuk Tree
This tree is a giant, growing over 50 meters tall, supported by a whitish trunk, some of which are about five metres in circumference at their base. A man can easily take cover between its root buttresses.
Around the latter half of the 20th century, when restrictions on harvesting timber in the country began to take effect, carpenters sought alternative sources to supplement their trade. They caught the scent of the Kumbuk tree, and soon the bells of doom for it began to toll, as the phenomenon of timber products harvested from it has become the darlings of carpenters and home builders. The timber of this tree is popular for use in floorboards and treadboards on stairs in multi-story homes. Before the advent of sawmill noise, villagers allowed these trees to mind their own business in the neighborhoods but guarded them with love. Now, they protect them with vigour.
Meanwhile, this tree is a valuable resource for villagers, but not for its timber. They believe the roots of the tree have water-purifying qualities. Before the village had running water, residents did their bathing chores at the naana mankada (bathing ford), where the Kumbuk tree usually provided shade. Women collected drinking water under this tree, which also grew near diya mankada (drinking water ford), located away from the bathing ford. During the dry season, as the water turned to a mustard color, they brought home this water in an earthen pot, rubbed the seeds of the Ingini tree (Strychnos potatorum) on its inner surface, and left it overnight for the muddy residue to settle to the bottom.
The Kumbuk tree is also a popular spot for village children to enjoy fun outings. They climb its lower branches running horizontally over water, and use them as diving platforms. On some days, we sit on a branch of this tree on the edge of the embankment and watch shoals of fish roam around under its shade. A villager hoping to upgrade his dinner menu often comes and sits by this tree, throws a line, and waits for any movement of the floater.
He picked the right place. The tall and partly submerged buttress root system and crevices provide secure nooks for fish to lay eggs and raise their young. Fishermen know that this lure attracts predator fish to hang around under this tree.
The Kumbuk tree invites tranquility and character to the tank and gammedda below the bund. Thus, this tree too became an eponym for some villagers, e.g., Kumbukwewa or Kumbukgate. It also found a niche in Sri Lankan folklore. Henry Parker, an early 20th-century colonial historian and irrigation engineer, heard from villagers the folktale “The Jackal’s Judgment.” A crocodile grabs a man at the foot of the village tank bund. The man then pleads for help from a nearby Kumbuk tree. Without hesitation, the tree tells the crocodile, “Eat him. He cuts the Kumbuk tree branches and takes them home.” The stairs builder, Mr. Carpenter, must read this folktale. If he gets caught in a crocodile’s jaws, the tree might throw out the preamble and say: “Take him home, buddy. It’s your dinner!”
The substantial presence of Nabada and Kumbuk trees on the bund proves that these trees are an integral part of the tank and the village, and are connected to tradition. Contrary to the vile treatment of the Kumbuk tree, it is considered holy in Buddhist culture.
Literature records that two Atawisi Buddhas (28 former Buddhas), Anomadassi and Piyadassi, received enlightenment under a Kumbuk tree. This belief spared it from the axe and adze of man for ages, just like hunters spared the peacock from slaughter because it is venerated as the vehicle of Kataragama Deyyo – Skandha, the guardian deity of Sri Lanka. Thus, at home, each time we walk on the impeccable steps to the upstairs made of Kumbuk planks, we must remind ourselves we are trampling on a sacred tree, and making the village poor with one less tree – both sacrilegious deeds.
Worthy Meeting Place
On the other hand, seeing the Kumbuk trees planted along the roadways is an incredible gift for travelers, and a well-thought-out investment, not for their carpentry potential but for the power of their environmental benefits for years to come.
From its sapling days, I watched the growth of one such linear grove of Kumbuk trees by the side of A9 south of Kekirawa bazaar. Street vendors, who have no seat in the town proper, gather in this grove daily to make a living by hosting a roadside marketplace. A few decades after the trees were introduced, they began to provide a calmer alternative to the hustle and bustle of the nearby town.
Moreover, the Nabada and Kumbuk groves in and around the tank serve as a meeting place for hundreds of aquatic and migratory birds, some of which have adopted it as their permanent or wayside home. During the day, it is their panchayat, the village assembly. They sort out their neighborly affairs and territorial conflicts here. Some work on their tan as you see flocks of black Cormorants do with wings outstretched in the sun while perched atop the canopy after a fishing outing. After nightfall, swarms of fireflies lit up the row of these trees, imitating the blinking bulbs screaming on the pandol carnival on the Wesak city streets.
In the evening, when the darkness creeps in, the Indian Flying Fox bats (Pteropus giganteus) leave the trees for night rounds. On the Nabada and Kumbuk groves by the Nuwara Wewa bund in Anuradhapura, one can hear the pandemonium of screaming birds flying in and joining the fight for room reservations for a good night’s sleep. Those of us who take evening fitness and doctor-advised strolls on the bund, or amorous couples spending the evening away on its embankment have seen the hullabaloo I am writing about.
Whether the tank is full or has gone bone dry, a line of these two trees growing alternately on the botanical horizon along the forest line or along the bund spruces up, adding to the silent grace of the village tank, accentuating a string of diamonds in an empress’s necklace.
Often, when the morning breaks open and the wind dies down, waves in the tank take a recess. Water becomes a sky-blue mirror producing the eternalized reflection of the Kumbuk tree on the edge of the nana mankada. Then, these twins stand ready yearning for a prize-winning photo. I caught that brilliant cadenza of the reflective melody one morning at my village tank. The prosody of that moment was crying to be written. Just staring at that diorama took me to a serene and unclouded moment of reverie.
By Lokubanda Tillakaratne ✍️
Features
Human dignity comes centre stage in Afghan refugee deportation crisis
The mounting mute and unmitigated suffering of the ordinary people of Afghanistan is coming to the fore once again in ongoing efforts by some neighbouring states to deport tens of thousands of Afghan refugees to their country of origin. As in the case of the majority of refugees the world over the Afghan refugees too are caught up in cataclysmic wars and conflicts not at all of their making.
International reports indicate that some six million Afghan refugees have been virtually pressured, to date, to return to Afghanistan by Pakistan and Iran, for instance, on the basis apparently of stringent policies on refugees adopted by the latter. Many refugees are on record that although they are officially identified as of Afghan origin this is the first occasion on which they are seeing the inside of Afghanistan, since thus far they have been living, particularly in Pakistan, as virtual natives of the latter.
‘They are part of the biggest cross border movement of people in recent history, a UNHCR source was quoted saying. However, barring the latter UN agency and a few well wishers, the refugees are being seen as a virtual parasitic and unwanted presence by sections of the publics who have thus far been compelled to have the refugees among them.
The refugees’ haplessness is compounded by the fact that they have been reduced to almost destitution. Having possessed virtually nothing by way of material assets they are getting back to Afghanistan a dis-empowered, dispossessed people.
For well over a century Afghanistan has been at the centre of the big power rivalries of South Asia. The country has been intensely coveted by the majority of major extra-regional powers from the turn of the last century primarily on account of its strategic geographical location, besides some of its natural resources.
Those powers that gain a military foothold in the country would be enabled to bring the majority of Afghanistan’s neighbours within their sphere of influence and power. Some of these are, China, Pakistan, Iran and India. Besides there are the one time Soviet Central Asian Republics, control over whom would be of considerable value, from a number of viewpoints, to expansionist powers.
These attractions account for the appeal Afghanistan has continued to exercise over the majority of extra-regional powers whose presence has proved decisive in the shaping of international politics over the decades. Those powers who have featured majorly and are continuing to do so are, the US, Russia, China and the UK to a lesser degree.
However, the Afghan refugee issue or the ‘Long- suffering’ of the ordinary people of Afghanistan could be considered as having gained exceptional prominence with the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan of 1979.
The latter event needs to be seen as a notable turning point in the last century’s international politics. The initial disintegrative cracks in the Soviet Union were beginning to appear and Islamic fundamentalism was seen by the Soviet authorities as making divisive inroads into their Central Asian Republics.
The influence of Islamic fundamentalism had to be stymied following the Islamic Revolution in Iran in 1979 and Afghanistan came to be seen by the Soviet authorities as a potential hotbed of such religious revolutionary fervour. Thus came about the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan and its subsequent degeneration into a military quagmire for both the Soviet Union and the US.
Thus it was only a matter of time before Afghan refugees began to swell in numbers in neighbouring states. They were haplessly caught up in the ‘cross-fire’ between the Soviet backed Afghan security forces and the Afghan militant resistance which evolved into the Taliban.
As is known, the Afghan resistance came to be armed and backed by the US subsequent to Afghanistan being over-run by the Soviet Union. Thus, Afghanistan became the last proxy war theatre in the long -running Cold War between the US and the Soviet Union. More than a decade of blood-letting convinced the Soviets that there was no choice but to quit Afghanistan.
Thus, to a considerable extent, the Afghan refugees are the victims of big power armed rivalries which are continuing to render the world a most ‘dangerous place’ for ordinary people. The UN agencies seem to be doing their best for the refugees of Afghanistan and most other refugee categories but the continued humiliation of such victims of war would need to be mitigated by the international community to the extent possible. Forcible deportation of refugees in particular may need to be eschewed and outlawed.
Being subjected to an acid test at this juncture is the Universal Declaration of Human Rights (UDHR). It is the latter seminal convention that made the protection of human dignity a cardinal value for the world community.
All those sections that subscribe to international humanitarian law and democratic opinion world wide need to come together, may be under the aegis of the UN, to work out how primacy could be attached to the UDHR and its principal mandate of protecting and perpetuating human dignity and worth.
This is no easy challenge to meet but it needs to be addressed urgently before currently rampant ‘international disorder’ grows well out of control.
The US and Russia are especially obliged to go to the rescue of the Afghan refugees since the Afghan crisis is of their making to a considerable extent but no help could be expected from them because their governments are strongly right wing in orientation. It would be far-fetched to expect of them a strong social conscience.
However, the UN and like-minded organizations need to dialogue strongly with the Taliban regime in Afghanistan with a view to bettering the well being of Afghan civilians. No longer could the lot of the latter be allowed to be dismissed by the Taliban government as ‘an internal matter.’
If the Taliban regime is being assisted by the UN, the former is strongly obliged to be accountable to the international community. The UN would need to non-obtrusively convince the Taliban government that it cannot ignore the essential needs of its civilian populace and the empowering of women forms a central component of this broad programme of work. The UN’s diplomatic finesse needs to come to figure here in a major way.
Refugees everywhere should ideally be re-accommodated in their countries of origin or native lands. However, unless and until their dignity is ensured by governments and other quarters that matter such endeavours would prove to be self-defeating.
Features
A Defence Minister after 38 years: Partnership without capture
Indian Defence Minister Rajnath Singh’s arrival in Colombo is not a ceremonial call. It is the political face of a security relationship that has been rebuilt, layer by layer, since 2024. Sri Lanka should take the capability on offer, and keep the right to say no.
by Mahil Dole
Senior Superintendent of Police (Retd.)
Indian Defence Minister Rajnath Singh is in Colombo for a three-day official visit, the first by an Indian Defence Minister in 38 years. The last such call was by K. C. Pant in 1988. That long silence itself tells a story. For nearly four decades, defence business between the two neighbours was handled by service chiefs, training colleges and quiet staff talks. New Delhi has now chosen to put a political minister at the centre of the relationship, and to do so immediately after a dense sequence of Indian visits and against a harder contest in the Indian Ocean.
The visit will be read, in Delhi, Beijing and Washington, as a signal. Our task in Colombo is narrower and more serious: to convert the signal into national capability without converting the island into a platform.
Not an isolated visit
Singh’s programme is the latest layer in an unusually concentrated Indian engagement since President Anura Kumara Dissanayake assumed office in September 2024. Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s state visit in April 2025 was the first by any foreign head of government after the new presidency. Seven documents were signed. Among them was the first comprehensive India–Sri Lanka Defence Cooperation Memorandum of Understanding, a five-year umbrella covering joint exercises, training, port calls, humanitarian assistance and disaster relief, information exchange and possible defence-industry cooperation. Either side may terminate it with three months’ notice. That exit clause is not a detail. It is the difference between a structured partnership and a treaty alliance.
What followed was a rhythm, not a one-off. The eighth Annual Defence Dialogue was held in Colombo in June 2025. The Indian Navy Chief called in September 2025. After Cyclone Ditwah, India arrived as a first responder and later announced a reconstruction package of some 450 million US dollars; External Affairs Minister S. Jaishankar came as Special Envoy. In January 2026 the Indian Army Chief, General Upendra Dwivedi, handed over vehicles and training aids, opened a friendship corner at the Defence Services Command and Staff College, and laid a wreath at the IPKF memorial in Battaramulla. The Indian Vice-President visited in April. Foreign Secretary Vikram Misri was in Colombo on 5 August with rupee lines of credit for railways and other priorities. Later that month, Sri Lanka’s Navy Commander, Vice-Admiral Damian Fernando, made his first overseas visit in command, to New Delhi, and met the Chief of Defence Staff, the Defence Secretary and the Navy Chief.
Singh therefore arrives not as a stranger opening a file, but as the political seal on work already in motion. He met President Dissanayaie, who holds the defence portfolio, the Prime Minister and the Defence Secretary. The itinerary also takes in the IPKF memorial, the Defence Ministry, the parliamentary precincts, Gangaramaya Temple, a likely reception on an Indian Navy ship, the National Defence College, and the Sita Amman Kovil in Nuwara Eliya. Indian High Commissioner Santosh Jha has said relations have “never been better” in decades. The visit calendar, at least, is not an invention.
What already stands on the defence floor
It is important to be precise about what already exists, so that we do not mistake institutionalisation for a sudden tilt.
Training is the deepest bond. India is the largest foreign trainer of the Sri Lankan armed forces, offering on the order of a thousand to twelve hundred vacancies a year. One naval accounting records more than two thousand Sri Lankan naval personnel passing through Indian courses over nine years. Shared classrooms produce shared language, shared drills and personal networks that outlast any single government. Reports ahead of this visit point to three new memoranda, one likely on air-defence guns, one on cadet-corps links, and one on cooperation between the Sri Lanka Defence College and Indian defence institutions. If signed, those instruments would push the relationship into the next generation of officers, not only today’s operators.
Exercises are now routine rather than ceremonial. The twelfth edition of SLINEX, the bilateral naval exercise, was held in Colombo from 14 to 18 August 2025, with a harbour phase of professional exchanges and a sea phase of gunnery, boarding, replenishment and communications. MITRA SHAKTI, the army exercise with air elements, held its eleventh edition in Belagavi last November. A fourth bilateral diving exercise was conducted in Colombo in April 2026. The two navies and coast guards continue International Maritime Boundary Line meetings. An Indian Navy Dornier was based here for maritime surveillance from August 2022 to August 2025. A Maritime Rescue Coordination Centre was commissioned with an Indian grant of about six million dollars. INS Vikrant and INS Udaygiri took part in the International Fleet Review marking the Sri Lanka Navy’s seventy-fifth anniversary.
None of this is trivial. None of it, by itself, is alignment. Hardware, hours at sea and staff-college seats are instruments. What they become depends on command, data and political purpose.
National security questions that matter
Three questions should govern Colombo’s handling of the Indian Defence Minister’s visit.
The first is maritime domain awareness. Sri Lanka’s core security geography is not a land frontier. It is the exclusive economic zone and the sea lanes that pass our shores. The live threats are narcotics, people-smuggling, illegal fishing, and the possible relocation of cyber-fraud compounds. Conventional naval war is not on this year’s operational list. Indian help with sensors, hydrography, diving, boarding drills and search-and-rescue is therefore rational. The test is who owns the picture. Shared awareness is useful. Exclusive dependence on one partner’s fusion centre is a vulnerability. Australia’s Disi Rela programme against irregular maritime movement, Japanese passage exercises, and the United States capacity support, cutters, aircraft, humanitarian exercises, already exist. They should remain in the mix. Maritime security should be a Sri Lankan-led coalition of convenience, not an Indian franchise.
The second is the air and coastal defence gap. Talk of Indian air-defence guns is not abstract after the 2026 conflict in West Asia reached our own waters, the sinking of the Iranian frigate IRIS Dena off Galle, and later Iranian hulls lingering near the exclusive economic zone. The government’s public line was the correct one: no combat use of our territory, airspace or waters by any party; humanity first; sailors rescued. That posture only works if the state can see, and if necessary contest, its approaches. Accepting guns, radars or training is compatible with an independent foreign policy if command, basing and rules of engagement remain Sri Lankan. Integrating them into another country’s kill-chain would not be.
The third is internal security. Easter Sunday accountability, narcotics networks that run through ports and prisons, and communal peace are not separate from geopolitics. Partners price political risk. A state that cannot govern its harbours, its financial system and its extremist ecosystems will be offered “help” that looks like tutelage. India’s interest in counter-terror coordination and drugs overlaps with genuine Sri Lankan needs. The discipline required is the same as in any sound intelligence relationship: cooperate on targets; do not outsource the service.
The wreath at the IPKF memorial will be watched, as it was when the Indian Army Chief stood there in January. The years 1987 to 1990 remain raw in our political memory. The only stable line is professional honour to the dead, not a political rehabilitation of an intervention that divided this country.
How the region will read Colombo
India’s motive is not mysterious. Sri Lanka sits on the approaches to India’s southern seaboard. Chinese commercial and dual-use presence at Hambantota and Colombo Port City, and continuing engagement with the People’s Liberation Army Navy, is the backdrop. Pakistani naval units calling at Colombo, including a Chinese-built Hangor-class submarine earlier this year, only sharpen New Delhi’s preference for a denser security habit with us. Neighbourhood First and MAHASAGAR, Mutual and Holistic Advancement for Security and Growth Across Regions, are the language. The operational aim is that extra-regional navies do not treat Sri Lankan harbours as a default logistics base against Indian interests.
Our motive should be equally clear, and different. Geography makes India the permanent neighbour. Crisis behaviour, liquidity and fuel in 2022, the cyclone in 2025, the energy and remittance shock of 2026, has already shifted public sentiment. That is a political fact. It does not require Colombo to adopt India’s threat picture of China, or to freeze other relationships.
A workable posture is polyalignment with a spine. India is the deepest security and connectivity partner, domain awareness, disaster response, training, Trincomalee energy cooperation, grid links and rupee credit, on the condition that ports, exclusive economic zone access and intelligence fusion remain under Sri Lankan law. China remains a major economic and infrastructure partner; new exclusive strategic footholds should not be created, and debt and operational control must stay visible. The United States, Japan, Australia and Europe matter for markets, green shipping, extra training pipelines and non-traditional maritime threats. Ordinary naval diplomacy with Pakistan and others is manners, not signalling.
The government’s stated doctrine, an independent policy that does not favour any country, and territory that will not be used against a third party, is the right public frame. This week will test whether that frame can coexist with deeper, more structured Indian defence cooperation. It can, if the new memoranda are capability contracts with exit clauses, not political alignment documents.
Take help. Keep the choice
Colombo should treat the expected instruments as a capability audit.
On air defence, welcome sensors and guns that Sri Lanka can man, maintain and switch off. Reject any arrangement that requires foreign crews, foreign rules of engagement, or data that only flows one way. In cadet corps and staff colleges, take the training and keep a parallel pipeline with other professional schools so that the officer corps is not a single-source product. On the 2025 Defence Memorandum, measure implementation by Sri Lankan readiness, hours of maritime coverage, time-to-rescue, interdiction rates in the exclusive economic zone, disaster lift, not by the number of Indian ship-days in harbour.
Joint training should emphasise humanitarian assistance, counter-narcotics, hydrography, diving and lawful boarding. Those are the missions that serve the public and do not lock us into someone else’s contingency. Scenarios that only make sense in an India–China or India–Pakistan crisis should be declined politely and firmly.
Defence talks must also be bound to the prosperity agenda. Trincomalee as an energy and industrial node, electricity interconnection, port productivity and cyclone reconstruction are where security cooperation either pays the citizen or looks like militarisation. A Defence Minister’s visit that produces only wreaths and signed paper will be read in the region as alignment. A visit that also moves energy storage, disaster systems and maritime safety will be read as statecraft.
I write as a former police officer who spent a working lifetime on intelligence, counter-terrorism and the unglamorous work of keeping a multi-religious island in one piece. Geography gave us a seat at the table of Indian Ocean commerce and security. Institutions, energy policy, port performance and social cohesion will decide whether that seat produces prosperity, or merely more invitations to other people’s contests.
Singh’s visit should be received with courtesy, used with discipline, and remembered for what it adds to Sri Lanka’s ability to stand on its own water. Take the neighbour’s hand. Keep the island’s choices. Make sure every exercise, every gun and every training slot leaves us more able to say no the next time a great power asks to use our sea, our air or our soil. (18 sources)
This analysis is offered in the interest of national security, institutional reform, and public safety)
The writer is a retired Senior Superintendent of Police. He served as Deputy Director in charge of the Counter Terrorism Desk, State Intelligence Service, and later as Intelligence Coordinator to the Inspector General of Police. He is the author of Security Beyond Enforcement: Practical Approaches for a Safer Nation.
Features
Lost for 90 years: Rare Goby resurfaces in Jaffna
Rediscovery highlights rich, unexplored aquatic biodiversity in Northern Province
By Ifham Nizam
A small fish that vanished from Sri Lanka’s scientific records for nearly 90 years has resurfaced in the waters of Jaffna, providing researchers with a remarkable rediscovery and fresh evidence that the Northern Province still holds significant, unexplored aquatic biodiversity.
The Yellow-stripe Goby, Mugilogobius chulae (Smith, 1932), was recently found in the Karainagar area of Karaitivu Island during a biodiversity survey, almost nine decades after it was last scientifically recorded from Sri Lanka.
The discovery is particularly significant because the species had previously been known from the country only through a single historical specimen collected from Pedduru Thuduwa, Jaffna.

Discovery moment
Research scientist Janamina Bandara, a member of the team that made the discovery, told The Island that the fish was not initially identified as the long-lost species.
“We came across an unidentified Goby during our fieldwork, and it was only after a detailed examination of its external morphology that we were able to establish its identity as Mugilogobius chulae,” Bandara said.
“For us, it was an exciting moment because this species had not been confirmed from Sri Lanka for almost 90 years.”
The fish has a particularly interesting history in Sri Lankan ichthyology.
In 1936, renowned Sri Lankan zoologist P. E. P. Deraniyagala described a new fish from Pedduru Thuduwa in Jaffna in his paper,
“Two New Fishes from Ceylon”, published in The Ceylon Journal of Science.
He named the species Vaimosa valigouva. Subsequent taxonomic revisions established that Vaimosa valigouva was a synonym of Mugilogobius chulae, the currently accepted scientific name of the Yellow-stripe Goby.
However, no further confirmed records emerged from Sri Lanka for decades.
With the species absent from subsequent surveys and inventories, it eventually disappeared from the country’s national fish lists and from much of the scientific literature relating to Sri Lankan fishes.
The prolonged lack of records was also closely linked to the difficulties of conducting biological research in northern Sri Lanka.

Yellow-stripe Goby, Mugilogobius chulae
For decades, the civil conflict, restricted access, security concerns and limited opportunities for field surveys prevented scientists from systematically investigating many of the region’s aquatic habitats.
Consequently, while considerable advances were made in documenting biodiversity elsewhere in the island, northern Sri Lanka remained comparatively poorly explored.
Bandara said the rediscovery should, therefore, be viewed in a much wider context than the finding of a single fish.
He told The Island: “An absence of records does not necessarily mean that a species is absent. In the case of northern Sri Lanka, there have been enormous gaps in field data because large areas could not be studied systematically for many years.”
“This finding demonstrates how important it is to return to these habitats and carry out detailed surveys. There could be many more species, range extensions and rediscoveries waiting to be documented.”
The research team’s findings did not end with the Yellow-stripe Goby.
During the same study, the researchers also documented the Black-spotted Snubnose Goby, Pseudogobius melanostictus (Day, 1876), providing what they describe as the first confirmed northernmost record of the species in Sri Lanka.
The species had previously been reported mainly from lagoonal and brackish coastal environments in the western part of the country, while recent verified records were limited.
The new finding consequently extends the known geographical range of Pseudogobius melanostictus and adds an important northern record to Sri Lanka’s fish fauna.
Together, the two findings significantly expand the known distribution of both Goby species within Sri Lanka.
They also highlight the importance of small and often overlooked coastal, tidal and inland aquatic habitats in documenting the island’s biodiversity.
Goby species are generally small fishes that occupy a variety of marine, brackish and freshwater environments. Their habitats can include rocky shores, tidal pools, lagoons, estuaries, mangroves and other transitional aquatic ecosystems.

Black-spotted Snubnose Goby, Pseudogobius melanostictus
Because of their small size and preference for habitats that are often overlooked during large-scale biodiversity surveys, some Goby species can remain undocumented for long periods.
The latest research is, therefore, particularly relevant to understanding the aquatic biodiversity of the Jaffna Peninsula and surrounding islands.
According to Bandara, the discovery also demonstrates the importance of combining historical scientific literature with modern field research.
“The old records gave us an important historical reference, while the current fieldwork allowed us to connect that history with what is actually present in these habitats today,” he said.
The rediscovery of Mugilogobius chulae effectively reconnects modern Sri Lankan ichthyological research with Deraniyagala’s 1936 record.
It also establishes the new finding as the westernmost known occurrence of the species in the Indian Ocean, according to the researchers.
The study’s authors — Janamina Bandara, Sahan Randeniya and Aravind Manoj — say their findings underline the need for continued biological surveys in northern Sri Lanka.
The region’s aquatic ecosystems remain insufficiently studied, particularly in areas that were inaccessible or difficult to investigate for extended periods.
Bandara said the team expected that further exploration could produce more unexpected findings.
“We should not assume that we have a complete picture of Sri Lanka’s fish diversity. Particularly in the north, there are habitats that have received very little scientific attention,” he said.
“Every field survey can potentially change what we know about the distribution of a species. That is why continued exploration and proper documentation are so important.
The researchers have expressed particular concern about the need to document such species before changes to their habitats make future identification more difficult.
Coastal development, changes in water quality, habitat degradation and other pressures can affect small aquatic ecosystems, making baseline biodiversity information increasingly important for conservation planning.
The latest study, therefore, provides not merely two new distribution records but also a reminder of the value of maintaining and updating national biodiversity inventories.
The researchers thanked Dr. Helen Larson, Rohan Pethiyagoda, Madhura de Silva, Dr. Kasun Bandara and Neluka Fernando for their assistance with various aspects of the study.
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