Opinion

AYU– A Review

Published

4 months ago

2025/10/24

This is one of the most enigmatic of Sinhala films that I have seen. I had to see it twice to understand the rationale of the non-linear narrative and the developing plot. It moves on at least two planes – one, the straight-forward storyline and the other, the surreal presence of Ayu, the little girl who titles the film.

First for the story. A young doctor, Nishmi, is caught up in a dissatisfying marriage with a tour operator who is hardly at home. She is uneasy about his regular absences from home and disturbed about the foreign feminine voices she hears in the background whenever she phones him and his postponements about when he is coming home. She is not at all close to her widowed mother who seems to visit her often. The mother, caring as most mothers are, steeped in Buddhist cultural traditions, is nevertheless an annoying presence in the apartment. Her Buddhist piousness seems to annoy Nishmi. As the story develops, we come to realise that the mother is worried about Nishmi and wants her to attend a Bodhi Pooja she has arranged. It was somewhat later that we became aware of Nishmi’s serious illness and the appeal to the spiritual by the mother is because Nishmi is afflicted with HIV.

The flashforward to Nishmi going for a night out on the beach is sudden and leaves us somewhat bewildered. The first assumption is that she seems to have decided that she needs some excitement for her lonely life with the husband away. The way she readily (too readily) and coyly, befriends the beach boy Sachin, makes us wonder whether she is really in it for a good time – in vengefulness for the possible infidelities of her husband with foreign women.

The first turning point in the film comes with her discovery that she is pregnant and her decision to go all the way to Ella where her husband is on a group tour. She meets with an accident, and we find her in hospital with multiple injuries and bleeding heavily. The outcome is that she loses her pregnancy and is wheelchair bound.

The fact that she has had to have a blood transfusion is not clearly revealed at first. Later, she is found positive for HIV. She reacts with fury at the husband whom she suspects to have given her the virus through his ‘affairs’ with multiple foreign women. There is a severe showdown, and she insists that the husband leaves the house.

Nishmi goes through serious depression and loss of will to live knowing that her days are numbered. We see her gulping a handful of pills with her mother pleading outside the closed door. But we are not sure whether she is not willing to undergo immediate treatment that is now available, or whether the complete breakdown of her marriage makes her suicidal, or whether she is unaware of modern treatments. But we must dismiss the last possibility as, surely, she is a doctor.

I am left wondering whether she is unaware of her illness when she frolics with the beach boy and a growing warmth and intimacy develop between her and Sachin. Because we get to know that by this time, she is aware of her illness. The contrasting juxtaposition of her depression and her sense of joy in the presence of Sachin is not easy to unravel. I still can’t.

The next twist in the narrative comes with a phone call from her husband – who still proclaims his innocence and his love and loyalty to Nishmi – in which he gleefully announces that “It is negative” with a sense of being vindicated of her accusations. It takes a few moments before we realise that he is referring to an HIV test he has done. It is then that Nishmi’s attention turns to the blood donation she received during the accident. She goes looking to find who the donor is.

Let me digress a bit at this point.

I am aware of dramatic/artistic/cinematic license to deviate from the real world for narrative effect. The medical lapses observed in the film are stated here not to devalue this excellent film in any way. I must make a few observations in this regard. It seems that Sachin as a donor has escaped detection as a HIV carrier at several ‘checkpoints’ in the process adopted during blood donations. The lengthy and detailed questionnaire and the counselling interview before the donation would have shown that Sachin, as a beach boy with a highly probable history of multiple sex partners would have been at high-risk and his attempt at voluntary donation should have been rejected at the outset. Unless he lied in the questionnaire and the interview – which is informed in writing to donors as a punishable offence. All blood is serologically tested in Sri Lanka for HIV, Hepatitis B and C, syphilis and malaria.

I presume that it is neither irony nor a coincidence, that Nishmi is a paediatrician and she contracts HIV through a blood donation. The basis of this story has close similarities to an event in the past. Perhaps the seed of the story for the film comes from there.

On a dreary November day in 1995, Dr. Kamalika Abeyratne, Consultant Paediatrician, Lady Ridgeway Teaching Hospital, Colombo, her husband Dr. Micheal Abeyratne, Paediatric Surgeon and their son were travelling on the Galle Road for a medical meeting. The car skidded on a slippery road and hit a concrete post and Dr. Kamalika was badly injured. She was given two pints of blood at Karapitiya and 34 blood transfusions at SJP hospitals. Six months later she was found to be positive for HIV. But then, the procedure for detection of HIV in blood donors was not fully established.

Whereas it is still possible that a HIV positive donor (false negative) can go undetected in serological testing, it is extremely rare today and they are thoroughly investigated. From Sachin’s character, where we find an innate humanism and an understanding of life and its mysteries, we may dismiss the possibility of him being a vengeful donor who deliberately donates blood under false pretexts to spread the disease. Such instances of vengeful donations are known the world over and Sri Lanka as well.

The donor of a positive transfusion transmission of HIV can be traced and followed up. But as shown in Ayu, there is still no definitive provision in Sri Lanka for the victim to be informed of the identity of the donor. Under the circumstances, why Sachin, being a high-risk donor remained undetected and not rejected as a donor, is cinematic license for dramatic effect and therefore, understandable.

Returning to the film, we come to realise that the identity of Sachin as the donor was given to Nishmi surreptitiously by an obliging doctor-colleague hastily written on a scrap of paper. It is then that we are shown how Nishmi goes in search of this donor and discovers Sachin and why she deliberately befriends him. The reason behind her going to beach nights is understood only at that point in the film.

There are many moments that Nishmi is reflective of life and talks about the indefinite destinies of individuals caught in the vicissitudes of life, and the metaphor of the endless sea comes into good effect. The paper boat that she builds also indicates the fragility of life in a mighty sea of random circumstance. She tells Sachin – “We are in the same boat”. But we come to realise later, that the boat carries critically important messages that connect critical points in the narrative – Sachin’s name and address given by the doctor and Sachin’s last testament which Nishmi reads while Sachin’s body is taken out of the church as the film slowly moves towards its conclusion.

Ayu 2

Now, we come to the surreal that takes the film transcends a simple tragic love story to become a cinematic masterpiece. Who is ‘Ayu’ and what is she doing in the film? Why is she central to the film for it to be titled after her? I concluded, after much thought, that she doesn’t exist physically. Then, how do we see her? She is obviously a metaphor. Metaphor for what?

In the film, our first meeting with her is when Ayu is on the beach with a childhood toy that spins in the wind (bambare) which is later seen in the water damaged and being washed away in the waves. This toy could be symbolic of the cycle of life – the samsaric journeys that we traverse in Buddhist mythology. Is this opening a grim reminder – a metaphor – of the theme that permeates the film?

Of lives caught up in this cycle; of wasted youth? We come to understand that this film hangs on the Buddhist philosophy of the four sublime states – Metta, Karuna, Muditha and Upekka and the hoary traditions of Sinhala Buddhist culture.

We next see Ayu when Nishmi is doing her ward round in hospital, and she/we observe an empty bed with a bed sheet carelessly left behind. In clinical experience, when we see an empty bed, the first thought that rushes to our minds is death. A patient has died and has been removed to the mortuary. Only thereafter, on inquiry might we be told that the patient has been taken for investigations or else, just gone to the toilet. But death hangs there in that image until we find the occupant of that bed, Ayu, sitting by herself in an adjacent room. Does Ayu depict Nishmi’s loneliness – feeling alone, uncared for and as bewildered as a child whose grandmother has not come to see her?

While we see the developing relationship between Nishmi and Sachin, with moods fluctuating from joy to melancholy and uncertainties and the ‘slings and arrows of outrageous fortune’, a distinctly ‘Bollywoodian’ scene confronts us. Rain, wet clothes, gloom and dusk descending into night, cuddling closely in the cold for warmth in an isolated tree-hut in a desolate nowhere, leaves us as voyeurs of a close intimacy. As morning breaks, Nishmi suddenly observes Ayu skipping down the path. Nishmi’s joyous reaction is consonant with the happy demeanor of Ayu, but Ayu is far more subdued. Obviously, Nishmi is overjoyed with the outcome of that night. Sachin comes down and sees Ayu for the first time.

Ever since, Ayu has taken a role that connects Nishmi and Sachin to each other. Every following scene has the threesome together – on the beach and on the train. The train symbolizes the passage of time and Ayu watching the passing scenery in silent contemplation tells us that Nishmi and Sachin are now linked in life with Ayu the child – as a symbol of the little time – ayu’ (life) left for them. It is nevertheless a happy time of togetherness with Ayu holding their hands and ‘connecting’ Nishmi and Sahin to each other. They are bound together to the limited time of ‘ayu’ left – denoted by the little child that is Ayu.

The complete absence of emotion at all times in Ayu’s face, gradually leaves us with a frightful foreboding. We come to realise that Ayu is just a timekeeper. Ayu is the personification of time. The foreboding intensifies in the hospital scene where Sachin is seriously ill. Ayu walks in alone (Nishmi is not to be seen) and looks at Sachin and seems to know what he wants. She deliberately slowly opens the bedside drawer and takes Sachin’s purse almost on cue – knowing what Sachin wants and gives it to him. He takes out the small paper boat and gives it to her. We see a close up of the crumpled bed sheet as the waves of the sea and Ayu’s hand taking the boat on the crests and troughs of it. The boat is facing rough seas. Suddenly, again as in the early scene in the hospital ward, we are chillingly confronted with the symbolism of Ayu as death. Time is up to take Sachin away. Later, we see Ayu in the funeral scene with Nishmi. One gone, one to go.

And in the final scene we see Nishmi and Ayu in a boat in still waters and we hear Nishmi’s words in the background where we come to understand that Nishmi wills to live and will take treatment. She veers the boat and changes direction – and we see in that instance, that Ayu is no longer on the boat. We are left at the end of the film with a ray of hope that all is not lost.

I find this film to be extremely cerebral and visually rewarding. The direction and cinematography by this young team is exceptional. The glimmering lights on the receding waves on the beach, the fireworks in the dark as Nishmi walks drunkenly on the beach, the clarity of the contrasts in the colour palette, vivid use of close ups strategically of faces, shows a super mastery of the cinematic medium.

Jagath Manuwarna is excellent in giving life in a very realistic way to a beach boy. He seems to have endured a pierced eyebrow to add to the authenticity of the character. I first saw him in his own directorial debut Rahas Kiyana Kandu (whispering Mountains) in which he was the main actor as well. It too was a new genre. And he was exceedingly good there too.

Sandra Mack in her first cinematic role, acts with great feeling and maturity. The full spectrum and nuances of emotion demanded of her is dealt with exceptional finesse and subtlety as any veteran would have. What a great find for Sinhala cinema!

‎by Susirith Mendis ✍️
(susmend2610@mail.com)

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Opinion

Open letter to PUCSL on proposed electricity tariff revision

Published

10 hours ago

2026/03/4

Sahan Weerasooriya

Although the Public Utilities Commission of Sri Lanka (PUCSL) has appropriately invited public consultation on the proposed electricity tariff revision from 27 February to 18 March, the online submission portal appears to contain a non-functioning submission tab. If this technical issue persists, it risks undermining the integrity and effectiveness of the entire consultation process. Consequently, I have chosen to present this letter openly for public consideration, including by the PUCSL.

Current geopolitical tensions in the Middle East underscore the urgent need for Sri Lanka to minimise its dependence on imported fossil fuels and prioritise the development of domestic renewable energy resources, including solar, hydro, and wind power. Such a transition is essential to securing a stable and independent energy supply. Regrettably, the Ceylon Electricity Board (CEB) appears to be moving in the opposite direction.

Promoting solar-powered electric vehicles supported by home-based renewable charging systems would strengthen national energy security and reduce pressure on imported fuel supplies. The fuel queues witnessed during periods of crisis, most notably in 2022, serve as a stark reminder of the risks associated with excessive dependence on external energy sources and the national anarchy that can follow.

As a small nation operating within a volatile global economy, Sri Lanka must remain as non-aligned and self-reliant as possible. Strengthening self-sufficiency in strategic sectors is critical to avoiding collateral damage amid escalating geopolitical rivalries among major powers. India has made steady progress along this path; Sri Lanka would be well-advised to do the same.

Raising electricity tariffs — a measure repeatedly adopted over the past decades to offset the high cost of fossil-fuel-based power generation — places an unfair burden on debt-ridden households and struggling businesses. Resorting once again to tariff increases, rather than addressing structural inefficiencies and fuel dependency, reflects a failure of long-term planning. The nation must instead pursue sustainable energy solutions that reduce costs over time.

As a debt-burdened country, Sri Lanka urgently requires pragmatic, forward-looking strategies that ease the pressure on citizens while strengthening resilience in times of geopolitical instability. Energy pricing is not a peripheral issue; it is a central pillar of economic stability and national security, demanding serious and immediate attention.

Established on 1 November 1969, the CEB was entrusted with the responsibility of generating and distributing electricity across the island while promoting social and economic development through the optimal use of national resources.

Recent developments suggest that the Ceylon Electricity Board has fallen short of these foundational objectives. Over the past two decades, electricity tariffs have been increased repeatedly under various justifications yet supply reliability has not consistently improved. The current proposed revision appears to perpetuate the same pattern: continued dependence on imported fossil fuels, directly contradicting the principle of optimally utilising national resources. This trajectory risks returning the country to recurring crises, including the prolonged fuel shortages and power cuts experienced in recent years.

Energy is not an ordinary commodity confined to a single sector; it affects every dimension of national life. High energy costs increase the cost of living by inflating expenses related to food production, transportation, manufacturing, and consumer goods. Ultimately, these costs are borne by citizens.

Moreover, elevated energy prices undermine national competitiveness by discouraging foreign investment and constraining local entrepreneurship, technological advancement, industrial expansion, and job creation. High-cost energy impedes national development.

Low-cost energy should therefore be formally adopted as a national policy objective. The CEB must adhere to its original mandate of optimising national resources for cost-effective electricity generation. Any deviation from this principle must be fully transparent and supported by clear, evidence-based justification.

Even in the sphere of renewable energy, concerns arise about the apparent preference for large-scale solar and battery storage projects that require substantial public funding. Previous claims of “grid instability” attributed to household rooftop solar generation were used to justify policy shifts. If electricity generated by rooftop solar during daylight hours was considered problematic, how would significantly larger solar installations differ in principle? Without systematic and transparent grid modernisation, such projects risk becoming costly stopgap measures rather than sustainable long-term solutions.

Poorly planned initiatives could once again expose the country to high delivery costs, reflected in elevated tariffs. They may also increase the risk of power disruptions due to battery limitations, spare-part shortages, infrastructure weaknesses, or maintenance failures. Sri Lanka has previously endured six- to ten-hour power outages, with severe economic and social consequences. The nation cannot afford a return to such instability.

It must also be recognised that rooftop solar installations, financed by homeowners — often through personal loans — have provided a crucial safety net for many families. By purchasing surplus energy from these “prosumers,” the system has functioned in a mutually beneficial manner for both households and the nation. Rather than discouraging decentralised generation, Sri Lanka should modernise its grid and meaningfully integrate citizen-led energy production. Short- and medium-term grid improvements could be facilitated through structured private-sector participation, including by prosumers themselves.

Globally, affordable energy underpins economic growth. Countries such as China, the United States, Norway, Brazil, and Canada have leveraged domestic energy resources to produce cost-effective power and accelerate development.

Sri Lanka must adopt a clear national policy centred on low-cost energy, fully utilising its natural endowments — solar, hydro, wind, and emerging technologies. Proposals prioritising imported fuels should be considered secondary and strictly transitional.

A nation that endures long queues for essential energy supplies cannot reasonably expect its citizens and businesses to remain productive and resilient. These realities are fundamentally incompatible.

Encouraging decentralised energy production would:

* Reduce the cost of living

* Improve national resilience

* Attract foreign investment

* Create employment

* Enhance export competitiveness

The people have entrusted the government with this responsibility. The time has come for a decisive, transparent, and forward-looking policy shift.

Chula Goonasekera

(cgoonase@sltnet.lk)

A concerned citizen

Opinion

Need for well-designed contracts and their implementation

Published

10 hours ago

2026/03/4

Sahan Weerasooriya

The purchase of substandard coal using a faulty tendering process has become news lately. This enormous financial loss to the country indicates the urgent need for the Government to pass stronger contract laws and have their proper implementation in Sri Lanka by professionals. It is recommended that “Model” contracts need to be drawn up as typical examples and these made available to governmental departments who may need to enter into similar contracts. Do not ask a busy manager to design a contract, a legal document from scratch! Perhaps a whole department should be set up to monitor (police?) government and local government administration of contracts under English Contract Law and contracts under the United Nations Convention for International Sale of Goods (CISG). Perhaps now, it seems that anyone in government can draw up a contract and design it to suit his own whims and fancies!

I suggest here models of typical contracts, useable for different cases are made available for anyone or any department required to enter into a contract to enable them, or at least assist them to first formulate, and draw up an effective contract which must have certain important clauses. Contract administrators and supervisors need to be well trained, motivated and independent in order to administer Government contracts as the law of Sri Lanka should demand.

Contract Management

In the West, mutually agreed contracts are considered legal agreements enforceable by law under a given jurisdiction. There is the initiator of the contract named the Owner and a Main Contractor who agrees to implement the work for a price consideration, and who may delegate part, or all of the work to sub-contractors.

Contracts must provide all the information required by a contractor to complete the work. Contract clauses must incorporate all foreseeable eventualities. For example, the acceptance, as agreed and signed between the contacting parties by the supplier or lead contractor, needs to have clauses that allow for design changes (change orders), additional time and the formulation of related costs and profit accordingly. Such ‘in progress’ changes have procedures which are given in clauses dealing with ‘change orders’ which require assessing the cost of the change order implementation. Change order management may best be done by a firm of Quantity Surveyors.

The main contractor agrees with the owner to supply labour, materials and specialist equipment to fulfil the terms of the agreement or contract for a price. Special tax concessions, customs clearances and other legal requirements can fall on the shoulders of the Owner, or as negotiated from the outset. All these matters need to be clarified from the outset of any contract.

Time is of the essence. The time value of money is always at the forefront of the contract manager’s mind. The work is usually expected to be carried out to a time frame set by the owner. Therefore, the implementation of an agreement should be set in an agreed time frame with easily defined milestones marking progress and marking when appropriate payments become due.

Of course, contract administrators must make payments only when the work is verified as satisfactorily completed at each of previously agreed stages of the contract. Usually, there are time limitations, with penalties for time overruns. Owners want their goods delivered on time and to meet all contractual specifications on quality and performance. There should be clauses stipulating quality and quantity guarantees and guarantees of remedial repairs, continuing service agreements to be settled before an official handover and signing on completion of a contract. Final payment should be withheld until the guarantee period has expired. Preparing for these events needs computers, foresight and experience.

Small contracts are usually managed by the owner, but large, multimillion dollar contracts may be administered by an independent organisation. A contract is enforceable by law, with stated financial penalties for failures to abide by the terms of the contract, but all is subject to “Force Majeure.” This is when progress of the work is seriously impeded or impossible due to events totally outside the control of the Subcontractor.

Contract implementation is a large area, well catered for by laws in the English language. This letter can only raise questions about the quality of contract administration in Sri Lanka. Unfortunately, so few legislators have sufficient knowledge of English, resulting in loopholes allowing manipulation which may result in Sri Lankan public having to pay through the nose, pay dearly for incompetent practice.

I can suggest these improvements, but my actual experience is that all my letters, in English, to officialdom go unanswered and ignored.

Roger. O. Smith

Opinion

Sri Lanka Cricket needs a bitter pill

Published

1 day ago

2026/03/3

Thilina Walpola

A systemic diagnosis of a fading legacy

The outcome of the 2026 T20 World Cup, coupled with the trajectory of the sport in recent years, provides harrowing evidence that Sri Lankan cricket is suffering from a terminal malignancy.The Doomsday clock for Sri Lankan cricket has not just started ticking—it has reached its final hour.

Therefore this note is written to call the attention of the cricketing elite who love the sport.

The current state of affairs suggests a pathology so deep-seated that conventional remedies—be it revolving-door coaching changes or fleeting, opportunistic victories—can no longer arrest its spread.

What we are witnessing is not a mere slump in form or a temporary lapse in rhythm; it is a profound systemic collapse that threatens the very foundation of our national pastime.

The Illusion of Recovery: The “Sanath Factor” as Palliative Care:

Since late 2024, the appointment of Sanath Jayasuriya as Head Coach injected a much-needed surge of adrenaline into the national side.

Statistically, the highlights were historic: a first ODI series win against India in 27 years, a Test victory at The Oval after a decade, and a clinical 2-0 whitewash of New Zealand.

However, a data-driven autopsy reveals that these will be “palliative” successes rather than a cure.

Under Jayasuriya’s tenure, the team maintained a win rate of approximately 50 percent (29 wins in 60 matches).

While analysts optimistically labeled this a “transitional phase,” the recent T20 series against England and Pakistan exposed the raw truth: in high-pressure “crunch” moments, the team’s performance metrics—specifically Strike Rate (SR) and Fielding Efficiency—regress to amateur levels.

We are not transitioning; we are stagnating in a professional abyss.

The Scientific Gap:

Why India and Australia Lead

The disparity between Sri Lanka and global giants such as the BCCI and Cricket Australia (CA) is now rooted in High-Performance Science and Algorithmic Management.

Predictive Analytics & Biometrics

In Australia, fast bowlers utilise wearable sensors to monitor workload and biomechanical stress.

AI models analyse this data to predict stress fractures before they occur.

Sri Lanka, conversely, continues to cycle through injured pacemen with no predictive oversight.

Virtual Reality (VR) Training

While Australian batters use VR to simulate the trajectories of elite global bowlers, Sri Lankan players remain tethered to traditional net sessions on deteriorating domestic tracks.

Data-Driven Talent Identification:

India’s “transmission system” utilises automated data analysis across thousands of domestic matches to identify players who thrive under specific pressure indices.

In Sri Lanka, 85 percent of national talent still originates from just four districts—a statistical failure in talent scouting and geographic expansion.

Infrastructure vs. Intellect:

A Misallocation of Capital

Sri Lanka Cricket (SLC) boasts massive reserves, yet its investment strategy is fundamentally flawed.

Capital is funneled into “bricks and mortar”—grand stadiums and administrative buildings—rather than the human capital of the sport.

We build colosseums but fail to train the gladiators.

The domestic structure remains a “spin trap.”

By producing “rank turners” to suit club politics, we have effectively de-skilled our batters against elite pace and rendered our spinners ineffective on the flat, true wickets required for international success.

The Leadership Deficit:

A Failure of Succession Planning

The crisis of leadership post-Sangakkara and Mahela is a byproduct of poor “Succession Science.”

Australia maintains a “Culture of Continuity,” backing leadership even through lean periods to ensure stability.

India employs a rigid “Succession Roadmap,” ensuring the next generation is integrated into the system long before the veterans depart.

In contrast, SLC operates on a “carousel of convenience,” changing captains and coaches to distract from administrative failures.

This lack of imaginative management stems from a low literacy in modern Sports Governance.

From a philosophical perspective, our established cricketing traditions have failed to absorb the antithesis of the modern, hyper-professionalized global game.

As a result, a truly modern Sri Lankan brand of cricket has failed to materialise.

Instead, we are trapped in what is called a “Static Synthesis,” where the administration clings to the glories of 1996 and 2014 as a shield against the necessity of change.

This is not a transition; it is a refusal to evolve

We are witnessing the alienation of the sport from its people, where the “Master” (the administration) has become detached from the “Slave” (the grassroots talent and the fans).

The Verdict:

A National Emergency

The “cancer” in Sri Lankan cricket is a trifecta of political interference, irrational management, and a refusal to embrace the Fourth Industrial Revolution (AI, VR, and Big Data).

As someone who contributed to the formation of the Sri Lankan Professional Cricketers’ Association, I see the current trajectory as a betrayal of the players’ potential and the nation’s heritage.

Sri Lanka Cricket does not need another “review committee” or a new coach to act as a human shield for the board.

It needs a “Bitter Pill”—an aggressive, independent restructuring that prioritises scientific professionalisation over cronyism.

Without this, our cricket will remain at the bottom of the well, looking up at a world that has moved light-years ahead.

Shiral Lakthilaka

LLB, LLM/MA
Attorney-at-Law
Former Advisor to H.E. the President of Sri Lanka
Former Member of the Western Provincial Council
Executive Committee member of the Asian Social Democratic Political Parities