Features
Beyond the screen:Reclaiming real relationships in a hyperreal world
On a quiet Sunday evening at Galle Face Green, it is easy to notice something unusual. Families gather, couples stroll by the sea, and children chase kites in the wind. Yet, instead of gazing at the sunset, most eyes are fixed on glowing screens. A father points his phone at his daughter, ensuring the moment is “Instagram-worthy.” A teenage boy records a TikTok dance, barely noticing his grandmother waving him to share an ice cream. The scene is cheerful, but it also carries an invisible weight: are we truly living these moments, or only rehearsing them for a digital audience?
This question takes us into the world of hyperreality, a concept made famous by the French thinker Jean Baudrillard. In simple terms, hyperreality describes a condition where the boundaries between the real world and the world of images, symbols, and media blur until we can no longer separate one from the other. Social media has become the grand stage of this hyperreality, offering users not just connection, but an alternative universe one that feels more colorful, exciting, and rewarding than everyday life.
The Rise of a World Beyond Reality
In the past, people lived in tangible spaces villages, neighborhoods, workplaces where relationships were built as in one on one. Today, however, many live in digitally constructed realities. Facebook “likes” validate friendships, TikTok trends determine relevance, and Instagram feeds become curated self-portraits. The “real” is no longer enough; it must be filtered, edited, and broadcast.
Sri Lanka, like much of the world, has not escaped this tide. According to the Telecommunications Regulatory Commission, over 12 million Sri Lankans actively use social media platforms. For young people in Colombo, Kandy, or even Jaffna, digital identity often takes precedence over the physical one. A university student may spend hours polishing her Facebook profile, yet feel uncomfortable speaking with classmates in person. A middle-aged professional may post smiling selfies with his family while, in reality, his marriage quietly crumbles.
In hyperreality, appearance is not just a mask of reality it becomes reality itself. For many, life offline begins to feel dull compared to the constant excitement online.
Cracks in Human Bonds
This transformation, however, comes at a cost. Across the world, sociologists note that hyperreality has weakened physical intimacy. In Sri Lanka too, the signs are visible.
Divorce rates, once rare in a society that valued family cohesion, have been steadily rising. According to recent legal records, Colombo courts hear thousands of divorce cases annually many citing lacks of communication, neglect, or infidelity discovered online. Marriage counselors often describe situations where spouses are physically present but emotionally absent, lost in the glow of smartphones.
“It is heartbreaking,” says a counselor in Kandy. “A husband may spend hours chatting with strangers online, building fantasies, while his wife feels invisible in the same house. Social media promises connection, but often delivers disconnection.”
Among youth, the situation is equally stark. University campuses are filled with students who maintain vibrant online personas but struggle to hold real conversations. Physical friendships, once nurtured through shared meals, cricket matches, or late-night study sessions, now risk being replaced by endless scrolling.
When Families Become Followers
Hyperreality also reshapes family life. In villages of the Southern Province, elders often complain that children no longer visit them as frequently. “They talk to us less,” says an elderly farmer in Matara, “but they are always on the phone. Sometimes they send us pictures through WhatsApp, but it is not the same as sitting together for tea.”
What is striking is that family members often turn into audiences for one another. Instead of shared experiences, life is mediated through posts and stories. A child’s birthday is incomplete without a perfectly decorated cake shared on Instagram; a family trip is measured not by laughter, but by the number of likes.
As Baudrillard warned, the copy replaces the original, the symbol becomes more real than the thing itself. The Facebook post of the family outing may appear happier than the outing itself.
Global Warnings and Local Lessons
This problem is not unique to Sri Lanka. In countries like South Korea and the United States, the rise of hyperreality has been linked to loneliness, depression, and declining marriage rates. Japan has even coined terms such as “hikikomori” for youth who retreat entirely into virtual lives.
Sri Lanka is beginning to feel similar tremors. Beyond rising divorces, schools report difficulties in student attention spans. Teachers in Colombo complain that children are more interested in filming TikTok dances than playing cricket in the
schoolyard. Religious leaders, from Buddhist monks to Christian priests, frequently urge congregations to practice “digital discipline.”
Some communities are taking action. Several Colombo-based schools have introduced phone-free events, encouraging students to leave devices at the gate during sports meets or concerts. Non-governmental organizations have begun promoting “mindful technology use” workshops, teaching families to balance screen time with real-world bonding. Even local businesses such as cafés in Kandy and Galle experiment with “no-WiFi zones,” encouraging conversation instead of browsing.
Phone-Free Movements:
A Ray of Hope
One inspiring example comes from a rural school in Kurunegala, where teachers noticed that students were spending break times silently scrolling. They introduced a “Phone-Free Friday” initiative, asking students to deposit their phones before classes began. At first, students resisted, complaining of boredom. But within weeks, the playground filled again with games of tag and volleyball. Friendships rekindled. Laughter replaced silence.
Similar experiments have been seen in Colombo offices, where companies encourage “device-free meetings.” By banning phones at the conference table, managers’ report not only greater focus but also warmer professional relationships.
These efforts show that while hyperreality is powerful, it is not irreversible. People long for genuine human contact, even if the digital world tempts them constantly.
A Culture at the Crossroads
Sri Lanka stands at a cultural crossroads. On one side lies the seductive pull of hyperreality filters, likes, and carefully curated images. On the other lies the fragile but deeply human reality of physical presence, shared meals, unfiltered conversations, and face-to-face relationships.
The danger is clear: if hyperreality dominates, the very fabric of Sri Lankan society built on extended families, village bonds, and community rituals may weaken.
Marriage will become less about companionship and more about performance. Friendships will dissolve into algorithmic interactions. Festivals like Vesak or Christmas may turn into backdrops for selfies rather than occasions for genuine spirituality.
Yet, the solution is equally clear: reclaiming balance. Hyperreality cannot be entirely rejected; social media does offer benefits connecting relatives abroad, amplifying small businesses, giving youth creative outlets. But it must not replace reality. Instead, it should serve it.
Experts recommend several steps:
1. Digital Literacy Education: Schools should teach not only how to use social media, but also how to question it. Students must learn to recognize when they are slipping from reality into hyperreality.
2. Family Rituals Without Phones: Families can revive traditions such as shared meals without devices, temple visits, or weekend outings where the focus is on presence rather than posting.
3. Community Campaigns: Just as Sri Lanka successfully campaigned against smoking in public, it could also promote “phone-free zones” in parks, libraries, and religious sites.
4. Personal Reflection: Individuals can ask themselves: “Am I posting this for memory or for validation? Am I living this moment, or staging it ?”
As the waves crash against the rocks of Galle Face, the sunset does not need a filter to be beautiful. The laughter of a child, the warmth of a grandmother’s hug, the conversation between friends over a cup of tea these moments are richer than any digital simulation. Sri Lankans, like people everywhere, must ask themselves whether they will continue drifting into hyperreality or anchor themselves in the messy, imperfect, but profoundly authentic reality of human connection. In the end, the choice is not between the real and the unreal, but between living fully and merely scrolling through life.
As we navigate this hyperreal world, the challenge is not to reject technology but to reclaim our ability to build genuine, human connections beyond the screen. Social media and AI, like all powerful tools, carry both risks and promises. As U.S. Vice President JD Vance remarked at the 2025 Paris AI Summit, they are “weapons that are dangerous in the wrong hands but incredible tools for liberty and prosperity in the right hands.” The task before us, then, is to ensure that these technologies serve as bridges to real relationships rather than barriers, empowering us to enrich not replace the world of authentic human connection.
(The writer is a university lecturer in sociology. Views are personal)
by Milinda Mayadunna ✍️
Features
Cricket and the National Interest
The appointment of former minister Eran Wickremaratne to chair the Sri Lanka Cricket Transformation Committee is significant for more than the future of cricket. It signals a possible shift in the culture of governance even as it offers Sri Lankan cricket a fighting possibility to get out of the doldrums of failure. There have been glorious patches for the national cricket team since the epochal 1996 World Cup triumph. But these patches of brightness have been few and far between and virtually non-existent over the past decade. At the centre of this disaster has been the failures of governance within Sri Lanka Cricket which are not unlike the larger failures of governance within the country itself. The appointment of a new reform oriented committee therefore carries significance beyond cricket. It reflects the wider challenge facing the country which is to restore trust in public institutions for better management.
The appointment of Eran Wickremaratne brings a professional administrator with a proven track record into the cricket arena. He has several strengths that many of his immediate predecessors lacked. Before the ascent of the present government leadership to positions of power, Eran Wickremaratne was among the handful of government ministers who did not have allegations of corruption attached to their names. His reputation for financial professionalism and integrity has remained intact over many years in public life. With him in the Cricket Transformation Committee are also respected former cricketers Kumar Sangakkara, Roshan Mahanama and Sidath Wettimuny together with professionals from legal and business backgrounds. They have been tasked with introducing structural reforms and improving transparency and accountability within cricket administration.
A second reason for this appointment to be significant is that this is possibly the first occasion on which the NPP government has reached out to someone associated with the opposition to obtain assistance in an area of national importance. The commitment to bipartisanship has been a constant demand from politically non-partisan civic groups and political analysts. They have voiced the opinion that the government needs to be more inclusive in its choice of appointments to decision making authorities. The NPP government’s practice so far has largely been to limit appointments to those within the ruling party or those considered loyalists even at the cost of proven expertise. The government’s decision in this case therefore marks a potentially important departure.
National Interest
There are areas of public life where national interest should transcend party divisions and cricket, beloved of the people, is one of them. Sri Lanka cannot afford to continue treating every institution as an arena for political competition when institutions themselves are in crisis and public confidence has become fragile. It is therefore unfortunate that when the government has moved positively in the direction of drawing on expertise from outside its own ranks there should be a negative response from sections of the opposition. This is indicative of the absence of a culture of bipartisanship even on issues that concern the national interest. The SJB, of which the newly appointed cricket committee chairman was a member objected on the grounds that politicians should not hold positions in sports administration and asked him to resign from the party. There is a need to recognise the distinction between partisan political control and the temporary use of experienced administrators to carry out reform and institutional restructuring. In other countries those in politics often join academia and civil society on a temporary basis and vice versa.
More disturbing has been the insidious campaign carried out against the new cricket committee and its chairman on the grounds of religious affiliation. This is an unacceptable denial of the reality that Sri Lanka is a plural, multi ethnic and multi religious society. The interim committee reflects this diversity to a reasonable extent. The country’s long history of ethnic conflict should have taught all political actors the dangers of mobilising communal prejudice for short term political gain. Sri Lanka paid a very heavy price for decades of mistrust and division. It would be tragic if even cricket administration became another arena for communal suspicion and hostility. The present government represents an important departure from the sectarian rhetoric that was employed by previous governments. They have repeatedly pledged to protect the equal rights of all citizens and not permit discrimination or extremism in any form.
The recent international peace march in Sri Lanka led by the Venerable Bhikkhu Thich Paññākāra from Vietnam with its message of loving kindness and mindfulness to all resonated strongly with the masses of people as seen by the crowds who thronged the roadsides to obtain blessings and show respect. This message stands in contrast to the sectarian resentment manifested by those who seek to use the cricket appointments as a weapon to attack the government at the present time. The challenges before the Sri Lanka Cricket Transformation Committee parallel the larger challenges before the government in developing the national economy and respecting ethnic and religious diversity. Plugging the leaks and restoring systems will take time and effort. It cannot be done overnight and it cannot succeed without public patience and support.
New Recognition
There is also a need for realism. The appointment of Eran Wickremaratne and the new committee does not guarantee success. Reforming deeply flawed institutions is always difficult. Besides, Sri Lanka is a small country with a relatively small population compared to many other cricket playing nations. It is also a country still recovering from the economic breakdown of 2022 which pushed the majority of people into hardship and severely weakened public institutions. The country continues to face unprecedented challenges including the damage caused by Cyclone Ditwah and the wider global economic uncertainties linked to conflict in the Middle East. Under these difficult circumstances Sri Lanka has fewer resources than many larger countries to devote to both cricket and economic development.
When resources are scarce they cannot be wasted through corruption or incompetence. Drawing upon the strengths of all those who are competent for the tasks at hand regardless of party affiliation or ethnic or religious identity is necessary if improvement is to come sooner rather than later. The burden of rebuilding the country cannot rest only on the government. The crisis facing the country is too deep for any single party or government to solve alone. National recovery requires capable individuals from across society and from different sectors such as business and civil society to work together in areas where the national interest transcends party politics. There is also a responsibility on opposition political parties to support initiatives that are politically neutral and genuinely in the national interest. Not every issue needs to become a partisan battle.
Sri Lanka cricket occupies a special place in the national consciousness. At its best it once united the country and gave Sri Lankans a sense of pride and international recognition. Restoring integrity and professionalism to cricket administration can therefore become part of the larger task of national renewal. The appointment of Eran Wickremaratne and the new committee, while it does not guarantee success, is a sign that the political leadership and people of the country may be beginning to mature in their approach to governance. In recognising the need for competence, integrity and bipartisan cooperation and extending it beyond cricket into other areas of national life, Sri Lanka may find the way towards more stable and successful governance..
by Jehan Perera
Features
From Dhaka to Sri Lanka, three wheels that drive our economies
Court vacation this year came with an unexpected lesson, not from a courtroom but from the streets of Dhaka — a city that moves, quite literally, on three wheels.
Above the traffic, a modern metro line glides past concrete pillars and crowded rooftops. It is efficient, clean and frequently cited as a symbol of progress in Bangladesh. For a visitor from Sri Lanka, it inevitably brings to mind our own abandoned light rail plans — a project debated, politicised and ultimately set aside.
But Dhaka’s real story is not in the air. It is on the ground.
Beneath the elevated tracks, the streets belong to three-wheelers. Known locally as CNGs, they cluster at junctions, line the edges of markets and pour into narrow roads that larger vehicles avoid. Even with a functioning rail system, these three-wheelers remain the city’s most dependable form of everyday transport.
Within hours of arriving, their importance becomes obvious. The train may take you across the city, but the journey does not end there. The last mile — often the most complicated part — belongs entirely to the three-wheeler. It is the vehicle that gets you home, to a meeting or simply through streets that no bus route properly serves.
There is a rhythm to using them. A destination is mentioned, a price is suggested and a brief negotiation follows. Then the ride begins, edging into traffic that feels permanently compressed. Drivers move with instinct, adjusting routes and squeezing through gaps with a confidence built over years.
It is not polished. But it works.
And that is where the comparison with Sri Lanka becomes less about what we lack and more about what we already have.
Back home, the three-wheeler has long been part of daily life — so familiar that it is often discussed only in terms of its problems. There are frequent complaints about fares, refusals or the absence of meters. More recently, the industry itself has become entangled in politics — from fuel subsidies to regulatory debates, from election-time promises to periodic crackdowns.
In that process, the conversation has shifted. The three-wheeler is often treated as a problem to be managed, rather than a service to be strengthened.
Yet, seen through the experience of Dhaka, Sri Lanka’s system begins to look far more settled — and, in many ways, ahead.
There is a growing structure in place. Meters, while not perfect, are widely recognised. Ride-hailing apps have added transparency and reduced uncertainty for passengers. There are clearer expectations on both sides — driver and commuter alike. Even small details, such as designated parking areas in parts of Colombo or the increasing standard of vehicles, point to an industry slowly moving towards professionalism.
Just as importantly, there is a human element that remains intact.
In Sri Lanka, a three-wheeler ride is rarely just a transaction. Drivers talk. They offer directions, comment on the day’s news, or share local knowledge. The ride becomes part of the social fabric, not just a means of getting from one point to another.
In Dhaka, the scale of the city leaves less room for that. The interaction is quicker, more direct, shaped by urgency. The service is essential, but it is under constant pressure.
What stands out, across both countries, is that the three-wheeler is not a temporary or outdated mode of transport. It is a necessity in dense, fast-growing Asian cities — one that fills gaps no rail or bus system can fully address.
Large infrastructure projects, like light rail, are important. They bring efficiency and long-term capacity. But they cannot replace the flexibility of a three-wheeler. They cannot reach into narrow streets, respond instantly to demand or provide that crucial last-mile connection.
That is why, even in a city that has invested heavily in modern rail, Dhaka still runs on three wheels.
For Sri Lanka, the lesson is not simply about what could have been built, but about what should be better managed and valued.
The three-wheeler industry does not need to be politicised at every turn. It needs steady regulation — clear fare systems, proper licensing, safety standards — alongside encouragement and recognition. It needs to be seen as part of the solution to urban transport, not as a side issue.
Because for thousands of drivers, it is a livelihood. And for millions of passengers, it is the most immediate and reliable form of mobility.
The tuk-tuk may not feature in grand policy speeches or infrastructure blueprints. It does not run on elevated tracks or attract international attention. But on the ground, where daily life unfolds, it continues to do what larger systems often struggle to do — show up, adapt and keep moving.
And after watching Dhaka’s streets — crowded, relentless, yet functioning — that small, three-wheeled vehicle feels less like something to argue over and more like something to get right.
(The writer is an Attorney-at-Law with over a decade of experience specialising in civil law, a former Board Member of the Office of Missing Persons and a former Legal Director of the Central Cultural Fund. He holds an LLM in International Business Law)
by Sampath Perera recently in Dhaka, Bangladesh
Features
Dubai scene … opening up
According to reports coming my way, the entertainment scene, in Dubai, is very much opening up, and buzzing again!
After a quieter few months, May is packed with entertainment and the whole scene, they say, is shifting back into full swing.
The Seven Notes band, made up of Sri Lankans, based in Dubai, are back in the spotlight, after a short hiatus, due to the ongoing Middle East problems.
On 18th April they did Legends Night at Mercure Hotel Dubai Barsha Heights; on Thursday, 9th May, they will be at the Sports Bar of the Mercure Hotel for 70s/80s Retro Night; on 6th June, they will be at Al Jadaf Dubai to provide the music for Sandun Perera live in concert … and with more dates to follow.
These events are expected to showcase the band’s evolving sound, tighter stage coordination, and stronger audience engagement.
With each performance, the band aims to refine its identity and build a loyal following within Dubai’s vibrant nightlife and event scene.

Pasindu Umayanga: The group’s new vocalist
What makes Seven Notes standout is their versatility which has made the band a dynamic and promising act.
With a growing performance calendar, new talent integration, and international ambitions, the band is definitely entering a defining phase of its journey.
Dubai’s music industry, I’m told, thrives on diversity, energy, and audience connection, with live bands playing a crucial role in elevating events—from corporate shows to private concerts. Against this backdrop, Seven Notes is positioning itself not just as another band, but as a performance-driven musical unit focused on consistency and growth.
Adding fresh momentum to the group is Pasindu Umayanga who joins Seven Notes as their new vocalist. This move signals a strategic upgrade—not just filling a role, but strengthening the band’s front-line presence.
Looking beyond local stages, Seven Notes is preparing for an international tour, to Korea, in July.

Bassist Niluk Uswaththa: Spokesperson for Seven Notes
According to bassist Niluk Uswaththa, taking a band abroad means: Your sound must hold up against unfamiliar audiences, your performance must translate beyond language, and your discipline must be at a professional level.
“If executed well, this tour could redefine Seven Notes from a local band into an emerging international act,” added Niluk.
He went on to say that Dubai is not an easy market. It’s saturated with highly experienced, multi-genre bands that can adapt instantly to any crowd.
“To stand out consistently you need to have tight rehearsal discipline, unique sound identity (not just covers), strong stage chemistry, audience retention – not just applause.”
No doubt, Seven Notes is entering a critical growth phase—new member, multiple shows, and an international tour on the horizon. The opportunity is real, but so is the pressure.
However, there is talk that Seven Notes will soon be a recognised name in the regional music scene.
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